How to write a content warning for your self-published book: Interview with Alistair Caradec, author of The Old Love and the New

In my previous blog, Should you include a content warning in your self-published book?, I looked at what content warnings are and at some of the arguments for and against their inclusion (spoiler alert: I think they’re helpful).

This blog is a little different. It’s an interview with Alistair Caradec, an editor and author who I think really nailed the content warning in his own book.

I was lucky enough to be Alistair’s editor on The Old Love and the New, a queer dystopian novel set in a world where an epidemic has led to the quarantining and disappearance of women from everyday life. His main character is a young man with schizoaffective disorder, whose carefully controlled world is turned upside down when his best friend brings home the first woman either of them has seen since the epidemic began.

It’s a book that deals with some heavy issues. But it’s sweet and hopeful too.

And his content warning reflects that. It isn’t just a stark list of words. Instead, it feels much more human, a personal note that puts those potentially negative experiences into the context of the book as a whole.

I’ve reproduced it here (with his permission):

Dear reader,

Thank you for your interest in Sid’s story. Before you carry on, please be aware of the following.

The Old Love and the New is set in an oppressive police state. It depicts and describes abuse, self-harm, suicide, and mental illness, including schizoaffective disorder, depression and anxiety. It contains strong language, alcohol and drug use, graphic sex between two men and graphic violence.

I took my foot entirely off the brakes because sometimes, the brakes aren’t even there to be stepped on anymore. However, this means we will be driving full speed into the good things as well as the bad.

The Old Love and the New also depicts love and friendship, identity and passion, trust, hope, and unconditional support in the face of adversity.

So here’s to figuring ourselves out. Here’s to sharing the bad and the good, here’s to pulling each other back up, here’s to laughter, here’s to love, and here’s to you.

Don’t forget your seatbelt.

A.

So, Alistair, at what point in writing The Old and the New did you decide you would include a content warning?

Alistair: Quite late, surprisingly.

I started writing The Old Love and the New back in 2011. Content warnings in books weren’t nearly as ubiquitous as they are now. It didn’t even occur to me that it was a possibility until I started frequenting the Twitter writing community, just about a decade later. By then, the book was basically done and it was quite obvious that it contained some very violent, very warning-worthy moments.

What examples inspired your approach (whether from other books, films, or anywhere else!)?

Alistair: I’m going to mention what I always mention on social media when I talk about content warnings, and that’s the Disneyland roller-coaster warning messages.

They typically give a bit of a teaser about the general experience of the ride. “Space Mountain is a thrilling high-speed, turbulent roller coaster-type ride in the dark that includes sharp turns, sudden drops and stops.” That’s smart. If you know these types of rides hurt you or make you sick, you’ll likely be turned off by it. But if you’re fine with those things, you’ll get even more excited about it.

Same thing works for books. If you say, “You should expect loads of gore and body horror”, most of your horror readers will go “Yesssss!” But I’ll be reading something else, because I have intrusive thoughts that get triggered by gore.

Why write a personal note like you did? Why not just a simple list of words?

Alistair: The simple answer is, because a list of words is boring.

The more complex answer is that it’s very easy to add a list of triggers to a book and then go on to write about those things in a completely disrespectful way. The list doesn’t absolve the author of all blame. If you’re writing about sexual assault, for instance, there are many different ways you can do that. A list that just says “sexual assault” (among other things) doesn’t tell me how it’s going to be handled on the page. It could very well be fetishised. And it often is. I wanted to sort of reassure readers: “This is why I wrote this the way I did. You can trust me not to make light of your experiences.” Something like that. Hopefully it comes across.

(Note from Kate: It does!)

How did you decide which potential triggers to include?

Alistair: That’s the issue with PTSD and C-PTSD triggers, isn’t it? They could be just about anything, and they are often extremely specific.

My biggest trigger is storytelling that condenses a life into a short period of time. This means I got unexpectedly triggered watching the Muppet Movie. But obviously, I don’t expect the Muppets to warn me ahead of time that there’s about to be a montage of Kermit and Miss Piggy growing old together. That would be ridiculous.

I doubt coming up with an exhaustive list is a realistic approach, and I think that makes it a risky approach. If it looks like every little thing is listed, an omission will feel like it’s coming out of left field. I really didn’t want that. I tried to keep it relatively vague. Themes rather than scenes. That way, if your triggers fall anywhere within these themes, you know the book might be dangerous for you.

What else would you want to say to anyone considering whether to include a content warning or not?

Alistair: A big misconception I see regularly from both camps (for and against warnings) is that the content warning is there for the reader’s comfort. You’ve got well-meaning people arguing that the reader’s comfort is paramount, and I actually disagree with that. I don’t think literature should be comfortable. Some of the best writing I’ve ever read was extremely unsettling. I’m thinking of Burdekin’s Swastika Night, of Hugo’s Le Dernier Jour d’un Condamné, of Rimbaud’s Le Dormeur du Val.

Content warnings are not for your average reader who doesn’t want to step out of their comfort zone. They’re for your combat vets, your sexual assault survivors, your readers with psychosis or OCD. Most of these people are perfectly fine being challenged, unsettled, or uncomfortable. They just don’t want to suddenly be unable to leave their house for three months, or suddenly become convinced that the neighbour is trying to kill them, or that they need to switch the lights on and off twenty times to keep their family safe.

That’s not discomfort. That’s serious harm.

If you’re planning to include a content warning in your own book and you’re wondering how to do it well, I hope it’s been inspiring to see Alistair’s approach and advice.

You can buy Alistair’s book, or hire him to help you edit yours, through his website: https://www.alistairedits.com/

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