misogyny

Homme de Plume: What I Learned Sending My Novel Out Under a Male Name

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This post by Catherine Nichols originally appeared on Jezebel on 8/4/15.

The plan made me feel dishonest and creepy, so it took me a long time to send my novel out under a man’s name. But each time I read a study about unconscious bias, I got a little closer to trying it.

I set up a new e-mail address under a name—let’s say it was George Leyer, though it wasn’t—and left it empty. Weeks went by without word from the agents who had my work. I read another study about how people rate job applicants they believe are female and how much better they like those they believe are male.

The thing I was thinking of doing was absolutely against the rules, the opposite of all the advice writers get, but I wasn’t feeling like a writer, and I hadn’t written in weeks. Until last winter, I had never faced a serious bout of writer’s block or any meaningful unwillingness to work. A blank page had always felt to me like the moment the lights go down in a theater—until the day it didn’t. I was spending more time crying on the phone than writing and I had no idea how to get back to work. Every paragraph was a negotiation—my instinct leading one way, and then a blast against it—don’t do that, you’ll confuse people. No one wants to read that kind of thing.

So, on a dim Saturday morning, I copy-pasted my cover letter and the opening pages of my novel from my regular e-mail into George’s account. I put in the address of one of the agents I’d intended to query under my own name. I didn’t expect to hear back for a few weeks, if at all. It would only be a few queries and then I’d close out my experiment. I began preparing another query, checking the submission requirements on the agency web site. When I clicked back, there was already a new message, the first one in the empty inbox. Mr. Leyer. Delighted. Excited. Please send the manuscript.

 

Read the full post on Jezebel.

 

Is “Likeability” Only an Issue if the Character is Female?

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This post by Kirsten Reach originally appeared on the Melville House site on 11/18/14.

Asked whether she’d want to be friends with the protagonist in her latest novel, Claire Messud famously quipped in an interview with Publishers Weekly last year, “Would you want to be friends with Humbert Humbert?” Nora, the main character in The Woman Upstairs, might be described as an “art monster,” a term Jenny Offill coined in Dept. of Speculation.

Nora devotes herself to her work with fervor, but she also behaves in a way the reviewer disliked, which changed her experience with the book. How much should that be discussed in a formal or informal review? Moreover, how deep does likeability go? Are readers at fault for not taking time to get further in the characters’ heads, or are authors supposed to be held responsible for the questionable behavior of their characters?

Messud’s interview seemed to kick off more than a year of authors reflecting on the way the women in their novels were received, especially if the reviewer assumed some traits in their characters were drawn from the authors’ own lives. Edan Lepucki wrote a piece for The Millions this week on the reception of her characters, especially the female protagonist, in her novel California:

 

Read the full post on the Melville House site.

 

Cultural Appropriation and the Inclusion of the Other

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This post by Alan Baxter originally appeared on his Warrior Scribe site on 8/8/14.

I read this excellent article by Jim C Hines today. I agree with it completely. There has been much discussion on published writing, especially SFF, being an old white man’s club and that we need to see more diversity in the stories we read. Then there are people saying that white people shouldn’t/can’t/aren’t allowed to write other cultures. It’s not actually a problem, because the second opinion is bullshit. Let me explain.

I don’t believe any subject or culture is off-limits for fiction. With fiction we actively engage with the world around us, we interrogate our reality and look at how it reflects back at us and we try to make some sense of it. Even the most dense, hard SF is, at its core, an exploration of simple humanity. In my world I’m surrounded by people of many races and cultures. I’m surrounded by people of varying sexuality. I will absolutely reflect that in my fiction. If I don’t, the darkest and most fantastical part of any dark fantasy or horror I write is this imagined homogenous world of hetero cis white people like me. That’s just horrible. I do not want to be a part of that vanilla environment.

 

Click here to read the full post on Warrior Scribe.

 

2014: The Year Of Reading Women?

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This post by Zeljka Marosevic originally appeared on the Melville House Publishing site on 1/24/14.

Sometime last year, I pinned a sheet of paper above my desk with the title “Women Writers” and began forming a list of names of female writers that I had read whose novels I enjoyed, admired or found important. I did this because I had too often found myself reading literary criticism or having conversations about books in which every author mentioned was male. A communal, easy forgetfulness seemed to spread over the article’s writer and his reader, or over those taking part in the conversation, a coercive amnesia where we forgot that women had ever written books, that they might even be good, and that they could be discussed alongside books by men —and would hold their own— rather than in separate fenced-off conversations.

Last year was a bad year for women in literature. As we covered on MobyLives, figures were revealed that showed how male reviewers and authors vastly outnumbered their female counterparts across UK publications; only 8.7% of books reviewed in the LRB were by women. In the US, the New York Review of Books flaunted a boy’s-only bumper summer issue when, out of twenty seven contributors, only one was a woman (April Bernard reviewed Frank Bernard, and we mustn’t forget an archive piece from Joan Didion).

2014, the Guardian reports, is being declared the “Year of Reading Women”, owing to a few small but important examples of how readers and critics are considering their next read.

 

Click here to read the full post on Melville House Publishing.

 

On the Issue of Misogynist Writers and Readers

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This post by Paula D. Ashe originally appeared on Dust and Shadow on 2/18/14. Note that it is intended as satire.

It’s important as a writer (or artist of any kind, really) to celebrate your successes. No matter how large or small. Seriously, the more I write and publish and talk to people about writing and publishing, the more I realize that there are so many people out there who are just livid at those of us who are brave enough to create something and be proud of it.

There’s been a lot of vitriol about Women in Horror Month after some insecure dudes on Facebook and elsewhere attempted to degrade the celebration. They said we women use our sexuality to gain success, that women writers of horror don’t write as well because we’re women, they violated the WiHM logo by including a clinical diagram of a vulva and analogizing the organ to a woman’s mouth, they made sexually violent and objectifying comments about women writers, and many of them said all this by prefacing it with “I love women but…”.

Obviously, those statements about women writers are totally true. For example, if you stare at the texts of my fiction and then slowly push it away from your face after about thirty seconds some titties will materialize on the page like those holographic 5-D posters they used to have in the mall. I do that because otherwise no one will read, let alone buy, my work. Also, as a woman, I’m very concerned about my fiction being too dark because nothing about being a human being, let alone a woman, is rife with existential or concrete horror. In fact, every time I write a death scene I imagine a unicorn emerging triumphantly from the corpse to calm my delicate feminine sensibilities.

 

Click here to read the full post on Dust and Shadow.