Extraordinary Heroines

Friday, May 14, 2010

Last night, as we all met together at KGB for the SheWrites event 'Ordinary Women...Extraordinary Heroines.' In a night of sharing and insight and support, and surrounded by so much talent and achievement, I was struck again by the things that "women do" so naturally, to support one another. And the point of SheWrites was made in front of my eyes. I was proud to be a part of it.

With no question about the pride and necessity of declaring myself a feminist, I am, clearly, of two minds about how to succeed at integration and leadership, when segregation seems more practical, but self defeating, in the long run. There is no conflict, however, about the necessity of pulling the label off of "Women's Fiction" (as opposed the the legitimate genres of "Chick-Lit" or "Beach Book" or "Romance"), in favor of – Fiction (duh).

The conversation is going on without us and we should be leading it. We are the readers and the writers; the consumers of fiction, and – as artists – the consumed. The enemy is not, at you would be led to believe, Marketing. Certainly not smart, informed, sophisticated Marketing. And the damage in dumbing down the messages that go out to our audiences, serve no one. Least of all the pockets of our publishers.

And here's a case for a segregated effort: Perhaps – if we band together (SheWrites compatriots?) we COULD guide and mold the publishing industry, to correct the things we know it is getting wrong – to create better products, better business and a richer culture. If even a part of that were possible, we really would be fulfilling the model of last night's event – not just creating heroines "between the pages", but out there in the wide, real world.

Snipers, Assassins and a Woman Who Learns to Keep House

Friday, May 07, 2010

SheWrites, and our Heroine Panel "Ordinary Women...Extraordinary Heroines" at KGB Bar on Wednesday, are asking for a blog on the idea of unorthodox heroines. And, though I may be too literally interpreting the concept, I’m taking it to mean this new feminine model we’re seeing in literature and movies: the Superhero-ine who Whams! and Bams! with the best of them. Or the unapologetic, shit-kicking crank we find, by chapter five, can shoot the hell out of the dungeon and happens to be on our side; the assassin-heroine of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, or the little blue-haired girl in Kick Ass. Their appeal is undeniable. I mean, I get it. It’s fresh and new. But I’m really thinking of how much more effective -– and more importantly, how subversive – it could be to beat the odds with the tricks women have always known how to dish up.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not for censure, or limiting Creatives in their desire to develop tough talkin’ gals who know how to make bombs and tear the balls off of bad guys. If that’s the way an artist wants to express herself, go to it. And, of course, I want to live in a world where creative output is not defined by a chromosome. But I also want to make sure that we don’t buy the old male idea of what a hero is supposed to be.

If we look at the heroes our testosterone-rich writers have dished up for us over the last half-century or so, we see a bunch of action figures swaggering across page and screen, reflecting men who swagger across the globe -- brandishing their holy wars, genocide, ethnic-cleansing-brands of rape, and imperialistic campaigns for and about oil, gold and cola. Are these the role models we want to follow?

Iron Man cleans his dirty-weapon-designing-conscience by creating a fire storm of dick-hardening, death-machine action. Really? That’s all he could think to do? Kick more ass? Not exactly Alfred Nobel. And the Avatars – where do I begin? Sully, our earnest, American spy, learns so little from his sensitive, nature-connected Na’vi compatriots, that it never occurs to him to take the larger message of peace, the circle of life, the issues of environmental protection and – most of all – a push-back against arrogant imperialism, back to his own people, so that the pea-brained, scar-faced general might be removed from duty. Instead, he stays and fights. And fights and fights and fights until there is nothing left to save. He’s too stupid or stubborn to try something else. It’s nothing short of pathetic.

Oppressed classes value the traits and skills of their oppressors over their own. One can see why, of course. In the value system created by The Other, the skills of the oppressed – permitted or enforced -- seem so puny. So less-than. But value is in the eye of the beholder. (And when women horn players have to audition behind screens to make sure they’re equitably heard, it must also be affecting the ears of the beholders.)

I’d suggest we take another look at the things we’ve just moved beyond in our rightful quest to pick up the reins of power. When Mary Robinson was made the president of Ireland, one of her first acts was to put lighted candles in the windows of the presidential residence, as a symbol to welcome back the Irish who’d emigrated away from their homeland. I find it a very womanly, nurturing thing to do, and no less powerful because of that fact, as business and money, not to mention tax advantages, followed. She didn’t declare war on Denmark because she wanted butter.

But in our art, we’re left with the value of a good punch over wisdom; some brute force, rather than a move forward by inspired negotiation. So – I’m just saying that it’s a shame we’re not likely to see the values of progress, the things we were taught at our mother’s knee, the things we have always known to be smarter and richer and more powerful than aggression, as we look to create New Heroines.

She Writes For Free

Friday, April 30, 2010

SheWrites, is a kind of on-line support group for and about women who write. And while I'm pretty hostile to the idea of dividing genders -- especially in things professional -- there is, I have to admit, some logic in reaching out to women who share, sadly, a set of challenges that reflect the pathology of our culture, and make it just that much more difficult to produce, to be taken seriously, or more to the point—to support ourselves by our wit, creativity and craft.

Today there was a piece by an enterprising Amy Tiemann, who gave an account of self-publishing. http://www.shewrites.com/profiles/blogs/the-writerentrepreneur-amy . When she started, she knew no one and realized that she needed to build a bridge as a first step. Here are her own words:

"When I first pitched Mojo Mom to agents in 2002-2003, the response I got was "This is a good idea, but it's a crowded marketplace and you are not famous, so we'll pass."

That's a real chicken-and-egg dilemma. I knew for sure that I was not going to get famous sitting around waiting. I cared enough about the project enough to invest in publishing it myself. I didn't know anybody when I started out: no other writers, no agents, nobody in publishing. I "built my platform" with a ton of hard work.

She advocates building an audience by giving away (in her case, through downloads) content. I see it all around me. And I'm asked to contribute to blogs and magazines—all for free—in the name of spiriting my book around to a larger audience. But I have a book to sell. I am leading the people who care to follow (at least I hope I am), —to a place where they can get to know me in a deeper way, by actually buying my book. Something to warm the heart of my publishers, to be sure, but I'm not sure, in the effort of trying to "build an audience" that many writers aren't actually shooting themselves in the foot.

I so admire the gumption of Amy's efforts and article -- and her generous spirit about sharing knowledge and connection with a larger world of like-minded people. But I worry that in this article, as in so many I am reading these days, we seem to be moving to a point of actually teaching a digital audience that we will 'give our talent away'. And while I completely understand the marketing value of using this 'taste' of talent or enterprise to build a following, I worry that if we're not also teaching them to support us with their patronage, we will find ourselves working in a medium that expects us to create for the love of it. God knows, publishers have been talking like that since before we were born. Do we really need to instruct the next generation of 'end-users' to not value talent?

I actually don't believe that readers mean to cheat us. But when we're standing there, arms outstretched, with something for free, they have no way of connecting to the fact that our time, our energy and most of all, our skills and talents, have been used in its production. If we don't tell them, how will they know? And does it look as though WE value it? At least a "gift with purchase" suggests the purchase. We're not helping ourselves, I think, unless we accompany this kind of outreach with clear and directive ways the audience can participate in our commercial and professional enterprise.

As an audience member, as well as a content provider, I want Stephen Sondheim compensated for the song I've download. Isabel Coixet should be covered, when I buy a DVD of Elegy. And I wouldn't steal Olive Kitteridge, as a book or a download from Elizabeth Strout, or her publisher—or a bookstore. I could be hooked reading a free first chapter, listening to a song I could not download, but enjoy, or catching a movie I might fall in love with on HBO or TCM. I would appreciate the taste and the introduction, but I'd know clearly how to support the artist with further patronage.

I'm sure most everyone else feels the same way. But if we don't remind our supporters that they are 'patrons', not our 'users', how will we, in the long run, be able to afford to provide them with the things they've come to appreciate from us? Or will our void just be filled by others willing to give talent away for free?

I'd love to hear from more of you on this.

The Ghetto of Womens Lit #2

Monday, April 19, 2010

Thrillers. Mysteries. Romance. Sci-Fi. Even with their confusing-to-outsiders-sub-genres (Science Fantasy?), the writers and the readers both know that they're aiming for the same target when they approach the bookstall. But Women's Fiction/Chick-Lit gets a little cloudier.

If we're talking about an easily-digested, pink-iced-confection, designed to amuse and entertain but not to stick to the ribs, I suspect that we can all agree, from Princess Daisy to The Devil Wears Prada, we're looking at a genre that used to be dubbed, the "Beach Book". Like all genres, the writing itself can be good or horrible, but craft is not really the point. If you crave a genre, you're likely to overlook a creaky sentence or a clich if the Jimmy Choos (or who-done-it-butler or the zombie, or the hunky pirate) keeps your heart beating.

I don't doubt their value on the market, or wonder why people like them -- but what about the books that are not intended as genre-lit? Why do we see some books that are about so much more than fluff, reduced to girly covers and Women's-Lit cataloging? Why are Anna Quindlen, Cathleen Schine, Curtis Sittenfeld all skirting the category? And if stories about women who are not grappling with heroin addiction or their status as a sniper, but working through fairly normal contemporary relationships, is fair game for a category called, "Women's-Lit" (as opposed to Fiction, for god's sake - ), then what about Anne Tyler? And --- except that we now see their stories as history, what are we to do with John O'Hara, Henry James? Edith Wharton, Flaubert? It wasn't history then.

When I get reader-reviews that complain that my book is NOT Chick-Lit, what am I to do, except wonder why the reader thought it was?

The smart and savvy, Lizzie Skurnick (turn to her blog http://www.lizzieskurnick.com - for some of the brightest insights on the written word you'll find on this continent) moderated our Empire State Book Festival panel (see my last blog), and mentioned - straight away - that the flowers on the cover of my book almost certainly eliminates its chances for most serious reviews or options of prizes. Really? Flowers? The flip side of this is almost as scary. Readers will be swayed by the flowers --- and either disappointed see above or, and here's the real likelihood, won't take the work or their own taste seriously enough.

As for covers going wrong, I'm reading Cathleen Schine's The Three Weissmanns of Westport right now. I liked her immediately. And I'm loving her book. A considerable feat of wit and whim and satire, so deftly thrown in the air and twirled around, you don't notice the skill. Like those men who twirled plates on Ed Sullivan. They seem more magicians than craftsmen, but they're not. Craft it is.

I would never have bought Cathy's book, given the cover. It hissed, Women's Fiction, Chick-Lit. 'Hen-Lit.' Okay, maybe no flowers, but girly-cheese instead. I would never have read the book had I not sat next to Cathy Schine on the panel. And it would have been my loss.

It's unlikely Amazon has a much more active customer than I and I'm no slouch at our local Independent Book Store either. I'm what the publishers are hoping for: a reader. A buyer. A giver of books. A supporter of the written word. A consumer. I read new work and classic work. I read all the time. And yet, I wouldn't have turned that Three Weissman cover over to have read a bit of information about the book. If Dominique Browning hadn't written a stunning review, I doubt many of the fans of the book would have taken a peek. And their loss. And Cathleen Schine is on the best seller list. Not because her publisher did the right thing but because a reviewer knew well enough how to position the work. And, while the reviewer was an editor of a stylish Woman's Magazine, she has enough gravitas to be taken seriously by us all. Is that what it takes? Someone to fly over the head of the category to make us see that there is a life between the covers someone dressed for the wrong ball?

To be continued...