San Francisco filmmaker Jennifer Kroot (To Be Takei) grew up with Armistead Maupin. She remembers all the adults around her dying to read the next instalment of his Tales of the City, a serialized story about gay life in the city that appeared daily in the San Francisco Chronicle starting in the late 1970s, before going on to become a beloved book and television series. “Then when I read it as a young adult, it still clicked with me. Gay and straight people living together in these beautiful streets,” says Kroot. “Armistead is definitely part of the San Francisco lore and mythology. People say he invented San Francisco, and that’s how I felt; he is one of the creators of the world that I live in.”

After discovering Maupin was a fan of her documentary of actor George Takei, Kroot was introduced by friends to the 73-year-old author, who agreed to be the subject of her new documentary, The Untold Tales of Armistead Maupin, screening at Toronto’s Inside Out festival. The film covers Maupin’s life, from his Southern conservative upbringing and beliefs, his wild years as a young man discovering his identity and community in San Francisco, his loves and controversies, and his current role as an “elder creative statesman.”

Q&Q spoke to Maupin about the documentary and his status as one of America’s most loved storytellers.

When you started writing Tales as a daily story for the Chronicle did you know what you were getting into?
I committed before I knew how hard it was going to be, and talking my editors into doing it. I presented a confident face to my editors that I could produce 800 words a day, but I think it was really about imagination and material. I had all sorts of brand-new material that wasn’t being covered, mainly gay life in a big city.

Do you keep diaries?
I tried it once when I was nine years old. Tried it again when I was 32. You won’t find many diaries in my hope chest. I am more on an anecdotalist, I tend to preserve my memories by telling stories verbally.

Would people shy away from telling you personal stories at dinner parties?
You’d be surprised. Once people found out who I was, they began to audition for Tales of he City. “Boy, have I got a story.” If you’re lucky it’s a good story, if not, you just have to be polite for a very long time.

Tales of the City introduced a group of people connected by community. Do you think that ideal is relevant today?
I think it is even more relevant, which is why I named my memoir Logical Family, a phrase I coined about 10 years ago in Michael Tolliver Lives, one of my Tales books. It seem more appropriate, especially in the Southern part of America that has grown increasingly divided by the Trump presidency. It defines certain issues very, very clearly. If you’re a woman, a gay person, a person who tries to adhere to decency and humanity, it becomes harder and harder to accept the members of your family who embrace political thought that denies those things.

Although you’ve been open about your personal life in your writing, is it more challenging to do so in a documentary?
There are a lot of parallels between the documentary and the memoir because I was participating in both at the same time. In a memoir, there are concerns about what honesty is. If you conspire to make yourself look self-effacing or noble in any way, you’re probably not telling the truth. There’s ego involved in writing a memoir, as much as you try to hide it. I tried to lay it out, admit to such foibles in the hopes I will be forgiven for them.

Are people surprised about your early years as a Republican who once worked for ultraconservative senator Jesse Helms?
I know that everybody isn’t aware of it because I talk about it every time I make a public appearance, and there’s always a gasp. Even at my own university, where a couple of years ago I reviewed honorary doctor of letters, I mentioned what sort of a young man I was when I was attending the university, and horrified the crowd when I mentioned working at Jesse Helms’s TV station. I ended up having to say, “Relax, he’s dead.”

Did this give you a sense of “know thy enemy?”
I think I’m very well prepared because once upon a time I was of that mindset. I know very well that the most adamant anti-gay politicians turn out to be gay themselves, and that conservatives are trying so hard to keep the lid on. It’s been proven time and time again. I think I’m a better activist because I started out on the other side. Harvey Milk did the same thing. Both of us were Republicans and served as officers in the navy, and didn’t snap out of it until we hung out with some theatre people, which I recommend for anyone.

What other advice do you give people?
Don’t waste as much time as I did. I didn’t come out until I was in my early thirties, and you owe to yourself to claim your own youth, to claim your own joys when you’re a young person. If you waste a moment kowtowing to a family you know is not as advanced as you are in the human-understanding department, you’re being a fool. We all want to be loved by our parents, but if that love is inadequate in some way, if they have conditions on their love, you’re looking in the wrong place.

I know people in their fifties who hate going home for Thanksgiving or Christmas become so-and-so will be there. Well, stop going, goddammit. Find the people you love and stick with them. You owe nothing to your biology. It’s the most random thing about you.

How has San Francisco changed since you first start writing, and do you still enjoy that same sense of community?
I live in the Castro and there is a remarkable community that still exists here among queers and among the straight people who chose this neighbourhood to live in. I have four Mary Anns living above me and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. What saddens me is the sense of entitlement on the part of some of our new citizens who come with a lot of money and arrogance and don’t understand the principles and traditions. They put on their hippie costumes once a year for Burning Man and for the rest of the time they’re working for a corporate monster. But I try to keep an open mind about everybody. I am not part of the one per cent. People assume successful writers are, but I am not. I still scramble for the rent every month, but I’m happy for the freedom that has been afforded me over the years.

What else is on your mind these days?
Like everyone else I am preoccupied with the state of the world and the creeping fascism of it all. I think about my husband and how much I love him, and I try to behave as if I love him every hour of the day so I don’t waste any time. You do that sort of thing when you’re 73 years old, and you’re not sure how many good years you have left. But that’s not a bad thing, I have to add with some degree of haste. It makes you worry less about trivial matters and focus on the stuff that gives you strength. For me, that’s love and friendship.

This interview has been edited and condensed.