I Am a Woman. And I Write Fiction. (Uh Oh?)
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I don’t know where to begin, but begin I will… I am a woman. I am a writer. I am interested in telling stories about existential grays. About life and love and relationships and philosophy and pain. I have high hopes. With but one book under my writerly belt, I am still a rookie, but I do hope my stories will, over time, reach oodles of people. I also hope that they will receive critical acclaim should they deserve that acclaim. It would also be nice if, by doing what I love (and, man, this is it right here), I am able to contribute mightily to the financial integrity of the family I cherish. That’s right, here I am, at the starting gates of this literary race, hoping humbly and boldly for commercial and literary success down the road.
(Per New York law, dreaming big is perfectly legal.)
Late last night, friend and fellow blogger Kristen of Motherese sent me a link to a Huffington Post article by Jason Pinter wherein Jennifer Weiner and Jodi Picoult, two vanguards of women’s fiction whose talents and careers I respect deeply, discuss a recent online controversy about “the alleged shoddy treatment of commercial writers, in particular writers of what is commonly referred to as ‘women’s fiction’” that arose after the New York Times and other publications extensively covered Jonathan Franzen‘s most recent novel Freedom. In this Huff Po piece, Weiner and Picoult offer “their thoughts on what role gender plays in literary criticism, the importance of popular fiction in our culture, and whether progress is being made.”
I implore you to click over and read the entire article now because it is stuffed with insights and angles and I can only scratch the surface of it here. Picoult and Weiner argue, each wielding her own compelling arguments and anecdotes, that the literary establishment, and the Times in particular, tends to overwhelmingly review male authors over female authors and “literary fiction” over popular or “commercial fiction.”
Something Weiner said really struck me, and concerned me: “I think it’s a very old and deep-seated double standard that holds that when a man writes about family and feelings, it’s literature with a capital L, but when a woman considers the same topics, it’s romance, or a beach book – in short, it’s something unworthy of a serious critic’s attention.”
When asked why she deems it important that commercial fiction receive critical attention, Picoult responds, “Because historically the books that have persevered in our culture and in our memories and our hearts were not the literary fiction of the day, but the popular fiction of the day. Think about Jane Austen. Think about Charles Dickens. Think about Shakespeare. They were popular authors. They were writing for the masses.”
Is there this double standard? I don’t know, but maybe so. Why might there be this critical rejection of tales that appeal to the masses? Again, I don’t pretend to know, but these things worry me and make me wonder about the literary world into which I tiptoe at this very moment. Here’s the thing. I have tremendous respect for Picoult and Weiner. Both of these women are immensely gifted; their writing is good and resonates with so many of us. I also love the Times. I grew up watching my parents flip through this paper at the breakfast table and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of one day seeing a book of mine reviewed in its pages.
So what now? Should I duck behind my decidedly male name and allow some readers or reviewers to think I am a man? Of course not. Should I whip up some tales of espionage or murder? I don’t think so. I am a woman and I will write the stories I want to write.
What more is there to say? A whole lot. This thicket of questions and concerns is far too complicated for me to understand or address fully on this Friday morning. But what I can and will say is thank you. To Kristen for sending this article my way. To Jennifer and Jodi for standing up and speaking up on behalf of all of us. To Jason for bringing this article to life.
And thank you to you guys, my readers – writers and people – for allowing me to dream big here. And doubt big, too.
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- Have you followed this controversy? Have you read the article? Thoughts?
- Do you agree that there is a double standard in the writing world (and maybe in other professional worlds)?
- Do literary and commercial success need to be mutually exclusive?
- Why do we insist on a distinction between literary and commercial fiction? Can’t a book have literary heart and soul and pack a commercial punch?
- Do you think I should keep my unwieldy dreams to myself?
- Have you read books by Picoult and/or Weiner? Have you enjoyed them like I have?
It’s interesting that Jodi Picoult is classified as commercial fiction. Obviously she has a brand name going for her now, but her characters are so conflicted, with such deep psychological issues to deal with, that I’ve always thought of her work as more literary than commercial.
Then again, say the word “literary” and I tend to run the other direction.
I think it’s absolutely true that the best of commercial fiction is going to be what people remember and continue to read for generations to come.
You know what? I have always felt the same way about Picoult. I think her writing is simple, but poetic and her characters are often brilliantly complex. I wonder if the fact that she is so successful makes her automatically commercial? I don’t know. I genuinely don’t understand why we must subscribe to such dichotomies in the first place; often, they are limiting and distracting.
I think that with Picoult churning out a novel a year and with her increasingly frequent use of gimmicks, she is painting herself into a literary corner, not her gender. However, that being said, I do think that her points and Weiner’s are valid. I think the bottom line is that you need to write because you are a writer and that’s what a writer does. Whether or not the Times reviews you or not, if you write a great work of fiction, it will find an audience and respect. You can’t write for the money or the fame, because you will be repeatedly disappointed. You must write because you MUST WRITE.
You make a compelling point about one’s motives for writing. It simply cannot be about money and fame. Good writers write because they must, because it is in their bones, because they have something to say. I guess once that is established though, is it okay to think about these other things – i.e. institutional trends and biases, sales, and commercial success? I think so. We should not let these things consume us because that would be miserable and pointless, but I think it is alright and utterly human to every now and then think beyond the stories in our souls and words on our pages.
Oh, I think we should be businesswomen as well, of course. But I think we should be careful not to mix it up with the actual art and practice of writing. Otherwise, I think one taints the other. When you parse the practicalities of it too much and start asking if those practicalities should affect what or how you write, I think you need to be careful.
I used to love Picoult, but after reading Handle with Care I decided I needed a break. She just seemed too consumed with the last-minute twists or manipulative, maudlin turns.
Another good and important point. I think we need to write the stories we want and need to write first and foremost without regard to concerns about category and criticism and commercial fate. At some point though I think it is okay to think about these things, these industry patterns, these debates that are ultimately about far more than writing and sales and money. I think that the article struck me so because I have never given much thought to questions of gender in writing. I think about writing all the time, about the life it entails, about how the world becomes material, etc, but I have rarely stopped to think about what it means to be a woman who writes as opposed to just a human who writes.
Love this conversation, Mama
PS – Read your fitness post. 5:30am? Impressive!
I was there again this Thursday. It’s so not me to get up and go to the gym at oh-dark-thirty, but I have no choice!
I think one of the biggest problems facing women writers today is that anything a woman writes seems to be “chick lit” no matter what it is about or how it is written, and therefore it is dismissed. To me, that attitude towards women is far more menacing than reviews in the Times (which is probably just a subset of that issue) and money.
Mama–I’m with you. I loved “My Sister’s Keeper” and several earlier ones, but it’s hard to root for her characters. A friend of mine said she couldn’t read Picoult anymore because the adult characters were always so self-centered and impossible to root for. I can see that, but I can also appreciate the psychological issues she explores. But in both of her most recent novels, I saw glaring inaccuracies about Catholicism–being a Catholic, those kinds of things get under my skin pretty quickly. And they’re always so central to the story. I just think that if people aren’t going to take the time to get Catholics right, they shouldn’t write them at all.
It would be great if the Times would get copies of books without the author’s name and then just review it and see what they think. From what I’ve read online, they’ve never reviewed Jennifer Weiner’s books. Is the same true for Jodi Picoult and other “women’s fiction” books? Have there been any exceptions? If not, I don’t understand how they could review David Nicholls’ One Day — which is sooo contemporary fiction/women’s fiction. I wonder if they also reviewed Garth Stein’s The Art of Racing in the Rain? It was from a man’s/dog’s perspective, but the same thing — commercial/women’s fiction!
To be honest, I am not personally well versed in the NYT book review history. I was just struck by Pinter’s article and Jodi and Jennifer’s answers to his questions. I do not pretend to know whether there is in fact a deep-rooted double standard, whether male authors who right about themes of love and family and such are treated any differently than women who write about these things, but if this is true it is upsetting to me as a writer and as a woman. Ultimately, I am just encouraged that there is a conversation here. Change, it seems, cannot occur without conversation.
Writers need to write the stories that they know how to tell, period end of story. If you are not writing because the stories are bubbling out of you there is something wrong- or so I think.
I will admit to not having read the article yet. It is ready to be read when I want to get to it. That having been said, I think there is a gender gap/issue in most businesses, writing included.
The main issue is normally that women tend, even as business women, to be more emotional. Men, on average but not all men, do not know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to not deal with it. I can go into the toughest situation with a lot of forethought and assuring myself emotions will not get the best of me and sometimes they just do.
I am not a fan of Piccoult’s style. I have yet to be able to get totally through any of her books and my daughter has many of them. I have never read Weiner but I think, that in some cases, the gender gap may be brought on by the author. I do not see/hear people classifying Barbara Kingsolver’s fiction as “chick lit.” Yet, Kingsolver is has many titles to her credit.
I see myself reflected in “I am a woman. I am a writer. I am interested in telling stories about existential grays.”
I find my need for affirmation reinforced in “I am a woman and I will write the stories I want to write.”
Each of us has a story to share that no one else can tell. I wish there was time to read all of them.
B. Lynn Goodwin
http://www.writeradvice.com
Author of You Want Me to Do WHAT? Journaling for Caregivers
So you want to write about the pain of relationships…
Have you talked about how obsession can come in and replace what is good and sweet in a friendship with something that sucks the air out of the room.
How to avoid doing that… How to sense it before it goes totally awry?
I need to read these chapters
I have to admit that I delayed writing my first book for years because I was so hesitant about what “genre” I would be included in. I knew the stories I came up with and the style I enjoyed leaned heavily toward the commercial women’s fiction genre, and I admittedly was worried that I would not be taken seriously as a writer. I never thought too much about it until I was about halfway through writing my first MS. There I was, spending hours upon days upon months of my free time pouring my heart and soul into this story, just as thousands of authors have done before me. Only to know that it had the potential of being dismissed as “chick lit” or a “beach book.” I mean, I realize that should this get published I won’t care if people are reading it on beaches or on a spaceship to the moon so long as they’re reading. But it’s just a little degrading. I could go on and on!
This is definitely something that I think about. I’m a college student, an English major, an aspiring writer. And when I think about what book to read next or what kind of book I want to write, I can’t help but also think about this issue. I love reading “popular women’s fiction” because it is simple and beautiful and so frequently speaks to experiences that I’m either going through as I read them or have gone through. But as an English major, I also love reading “literary fiction” because it challenges me in new and exciting ways. But I don’t ever find the two mutually exclusive. Although women’s fiction is frequently written off as fluff meant for the beach, I have found myself thinking about books that are considered women’s fiction for weeks afterward. I believe that all books are capable of being gems. And I do believe that there is a severe double standard for women writers right now. I’m hoping that with time that will change. But for now I think that the best I can do is continue to read said women writers and hope that one day it helps them rise above stereotypes.