Bigotry in Writing

This week, Nobel Laureate V. S. Naipaul stirred up a big stinky pile of controversy. Here's the jist of what he said, as reported by Bookseller.com and initially from the Telegraph:

"Women writers are different, they are quite different. I read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two I know whether it is by a woman or not. I think [it is] unequal to me." Naipaul said this was due to their "sentimentality, the narrow view of the world". He added: "And inevitably for a woman, she is not a complete master of a house, so that comes over in her writing too. 

"My publisher, who was so good as a taster and editor, when she became a writer, lo and behold, it was all this feminine tosh. I don't mean this in any unkind way."
On Jane Austen, he added that he "couldn't possibly share her sentimental ambitions, her sentimental sense of the world".When asked if he considered any woman writer his equal, the 78-year-old answered: "I don't think so", the Telegraph reports.

Now, as a woman writer, I find that pretty offensive. Interestingly enough, however, the editor whose work he dismissed as 'feminine tosh' is acclaimed author and biographer Diana Athill, of all people!  I've read Athill's Somewhere Towards the End, and I'm absolutely positive that it's NOT 'feminine tosh.'  Athill's response to Naipaul--also from the Guardian--is worth noting:

"I was a 'sensitive editor' because I liked his work, I was admiring it. When I stopped admiring him so much I started being 'feminine tosh'," she said this morning. "I can't say it made me feel very bad. It just made me laugh ... I think one should just ignore it, take no notice really."

Naipaul has "always been a testy man and seems to have got testier in old age", said Athill. "I don't think it is worth being taken seriously ... It's sad really because he's a very good writer. Why be such an irritable man?"

It's not the first time the pair have clashed. When Athill told Naipaul that his novel, Guerrillas, did not ring true, the move led, indirectly, to his departure from André Deutsch. And Athill has previously said that, when she needed cheering up, "I used to tell myself: 'At least I'm not married to Vidia.'"

Amen, my sister. From some of the horrors I've read about Naipaul's marriage, I think I'd be able to say that to myself in jail.

Okay--here's my point: there's a longstanding and inherent bias against female writers.  We are dismissed instantly as writing 'bodice-rippers' or 'feminine tosh.'  When I tell people I'm an author, their first question is usually, "Oh, romance?" with an intonation in their voices that just drips disdain.  It's like no one can imagine a woman writing strong, relevant, gripping literature.  This is insulting on several levels. 

First off, women write in all genres and not just romance. Look at some of the powerhouse women in fiction right now. Can anyone dare to dismiss female writers when the most successful writer in history is JK Rowling? Can anyone honestly sneer at the work of Barbara Kingsolver? The Poisonwood Bible is one of the toughest books I've read in a long time--and absolutely lovely.  And then I think of some of my friends and acquaintances in speculative fiction, like Kelly Meding and Gini Koch, and I have to kind of laugh.  These ladies don't waste their time on feminine tosh, not when their heroines are kicking everything's ass in sight.

Second off, romance books are NOT EASY TO WRITE.  I've tried to write a straight-up contemporary romance novel; I can't. I'm not wired that way.  And when you look at some of the greatest classic pieces of literature, those books were romances written by women.  Jane Austen? The Brontes? And those writers aren't equal to Naipaul?  Come to think of it, I'm reasonably positive Naipaul would chew off his own leg to have a fraction of Nora Roberts or Danielle Steele's sales.  The Nobel prize is nice and all, but you can only eat off it for so long. But Naipaul doesn't see it that way:

Of Austen he said he "couldn't possibly share her sentimental ambitions, her sentimental sense of the world". 

The author, who was born in Trinidad, said this was because of women's "sentimentality, the narrow view of the world". "And inevitably for a woman, she is not a complete master of a house, so that comes over in her writing too," he said.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I am the complete master of MY house. Even the cats acknowledge that.

But finally, and most importantly, the main reason this disturbs me is simple. Naipaul, as a Nobel prize winner, has a platform--one that will reach millions of people.  He's used that platform in the past to denigrate third world countries, including his native Trinidad, and to express his loathing for people of color.  Now, he's using it to sneer at the accomplishments of women in literature, setting himself up on a pedestal and proclaiming the inherent inferiority of female writers. 

(In the interests of transparency, I've read some of Naipaul's work.  I like his earlier stuff; am not quite so fond of his later stories. I've found an underlying strain  of bigotry permeating his work, and felt that as he aged he got really, really preachy.  I've felt that way for years, which is a shame because I found A House for Mr. Biswas a lovely, evocative work.)

As writers, we should all be aware of the power of the written word. What we write can influence people, sometimes beyond anything we could possibly hope to expect.  Ever see a movie theater on opening night of a Harry Potter movie? Or, even stranger, the day a Harry Potter book was released? It's crazy. Did you witness the Team Edward/Team Jacob madness a few years ago?  Yes, writers have power.  We have the power to entertain, to inform, to invoke thought. Unfortunately, we also have the power to promote bigotry and prejudice through the employment of the language of hatred.

It's easy to dismiss Naipaul's comments.  After all, the gentleman is getting on in years and there's every chance that he might just be batshit crazy. This could just be jealousy rearing its ugly head, from a writer who once was very important and pissed away his momentum by alienating people in the industry and his readership.  Or, he could just be stupid.  Considering that eighty percent of the fiction-reading public are women, a writer would have to be an idiot to go out of his way to piss all those book-buying women off.  A writer on a forum I frequent made the mistake of saying that as this was just Naipaul's opinion, it was okay.

But it's not okay.  The language of hatred is NEVER okay. When a writer with the acclaim and notoriety of a V.S. Naipaul dismisses women at all levels of the publishing industry, it's most empathically NOT okay.  I mean look at precisely what he said: Sentimentality. Narrow view of the world. Feminine tosh. Not a complete master of a house. Banality.

Are women writers his equal? "No, I don't think so."

Come on.

Naipaul was slipping into obscurity before this interview, resting on the laurels of his prior acclaim and out of the public spotlight.  Now he's right back in the middle of it, but at what cost?  Even his authorized biographer, Patrick French, described Naipaul as, "bigoted, arrogant, vicious, racist, a woman-beating misogynist and a sado-masochist."

As writers, we need to be aware of the potential power of our words. Always.  Even a spec fic genre hack like myself can wield influence in the world--probably never at Naipaul's level, but some.

Very rarely, I'll find myself so disgusted with an author's political views that I won't buy his/her books.  Orson Scott Card is a good example of this; Ender's Game is one of the greatest spec fic books written in my lifetime, and yet his blatant hatred and prejudice of the gay community will keep me from ever putting a dime into his pocket.  It's sad, really, that V.S. Naipaul is now floating along in the same boat with Card.  That boat now has a Nobel Prize for an anchor, but it's powered by the sails of bigotry, hatred and prejudice.

Sail away, gentlemen. Sail far, far away.

World Fantasy Convention 2010--Day Two

Gini and I stayed up talking all night last night.  Not too smart, considering the wake up call was set for 8 am. After breakfast, while Gini was busy, I did a lot of people watching and this is what I've got.

Today, I was accosted with the worst pick up line EVER.  While I was smoking outside, this fellow came up to me and said, "I've only ever seen you with a girl.  Are you a lesbian?"

Seriously?  I mean, seriously, dude, does that kind of line ever work?  Somehow I don't think so.  So now, I've got the line of the convention and I'm going to repeat it until people's ears bleed.  Because, you know, it wasn't enough that this moron insulted lesbians everywhere by assuming a pair of straight chicks hanging out at a convention were lesbians simply because they were not with this particular troll-like speciman of humanity.  No clue who said dude was.  All I need to know is this: what a loser.

The smoking area has been renamed 'the pariah portico.' I take total credit for that name, by the way.  One thing I've definitely learned--make a point of hanging out on the smoker's patio at some point during every convention.  You'll run into some fascinating and important people.

I have a feeling that Lewis Carroll's rabbit hole actually runs smack dab through the center of the Columbus Hyatt Regency.  I keep wondering if I've fallen into Wonderland or if I've just accidentally wandered into asshole. It's easy to determine what category these writers fall into.  Those who I would gush over meeting?  They're polite and always happy to talk to another author or a fan.  Those who I've never heard of?  They're the ones sitting around the bar area with their noses in the air, pattering away on their laptops hoping someone will either recognize them or ask what they're writing.  If nothing else, it's a huge lesson in what NOT to do at a convention.

Here's another.  If someone expresses interest in your project, that isn't an invitation to whip out the I-pad and show them all your research.  Trust me.  It makes people cringe.

I've been watching an extraordinary agent at work throughout this convention and I have to say--I've learned more from watching her for a couple of days than I have from all my research over the past few years.  I've been learning the language of the sale.

And yes, Modesitt's vest was even more colorful and elaborate than the day before.  We said hello to him again today, and he was just as polite as before. I think he's starting to recognize us, though.

The mass signing tonight was precisely that: a MASSIVE signing.  The Regency ballroom was very hot and stuffy.  I spent that three hour block holding down real estate in the bar.  (What? I was thirsty, and besides--how was I going to pick which author's books to get signed?  Besides Gini, of course.)  After that, we went to a couple of small press parties.  We hung out for a while with the folks from EDGE--all very nice and lots of fun--and then went on to the Chi-Zine party, where I got to get a good look at the really outstanding books they're putting out as well as pulling out bottles of beer from the tub.  Pretty darn cool.

Today I met both Elizabeth Bear and Anne Bishop.  Very nice, interesting ladies both. Gini ran into a fan in the elevator, which was totally cool, and believe it or not, we managed to drag our exhausted butts off to bed by the reasonable hour of 1:30.

World Fantasy Convention 2010--Official Day One

---Okay, so Gini invited me to stay with her in her hotel room for a couple of nights of the convention.  I thought that would be a great idea--it would let me stay longer and get out into the action earlier (which seemed like a good idea at the time) and work out a whole mess of business.  So yeah. Good idea, right?

Right. It was, as a matter of fact. I'm known for some pretty darn clever ideas, but that Gini Koch.  Genius. Sheer genius.

We saw LE Modesitt again.  I think I must be destined to run into him and his lovely vests.  Interesting thing about Modesitt--he's always very polite but he's always also just a little wild-eyed if you approach him.  I'm thinking some half-insane fan has approached him at some point in his past, the poor man.  Very charming overall, though, and there's always that moment of "Oh my gosh--that's LE Modesitt!"

My fangster pal Beth Bernobich's Passion Play (just debuted from Tor) is visible everywhere.  Interestingly enough, right after I wrote that in my journal, Tom Doherty (as in Mr. Tor) walked by and I nearly fell through the floor.

Today is the first official day of the convention, and while there were lots of people in the hotel last night, tonight is absolutely packed with a whole slew of folks that look like speculative fiction writers, editors and fans.  It's kind of like this:  I've been to romance conventions, and there really isn't any way to look around and say, "Oh yeah--romance people."  But sci fi or fantasy?  You'd better believe it.  Overall, it's a very comfortable place to be, and thank God it's more than acceptable to do jeans and tennis shoes.  Gini is introducing to me to scads of people and I'm ashamed to admit I have no clue who ninety percent of them are.

Maybe I should take some time off from writing and do a little reading in my field?  Nah.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the convention so far has been listening to some old school gossip about some of the greats in the field back in the day.  I spent quite a bit of time with my mouth hanging open, looking like a starving Venus fly trap, while I assimilated information that under no circumstance would I ever be able to write about in this blog.  So forgive me for that "I know something you don't know!" moment.  I just couldn't help it.

But I do know something you don't know.  Just so you know.

The company was so interesting that we completely missed the opening ceremonies, but I'm thinking we didn't need to know that the convention was now officially open.  The madness in the bar made that obvious enough.

Day #1--World Fantasy Convention 2010

So tomorrow, the World Fantasy Convention begins in Columbus, Ohio--but for me, today was the first day.  I went to pick up my friend, the uber-fabulous Gini Koch, at Port Columbus.  Originally, my husband was supposed to go with me but he had to work, so my daughter Audrey drove and we took her daughter Aurora (who turned one last week) with us.

The first sign of imminent awesomeness?  A text message that reads, "I'm the gal with the pink zebra print matched luggage."

After pulling her luggage from the baggage claim--it was easily spotted, by the by--Audrey and I took the luggage while Gini took the baby and we went to the car.  As I've mentioned before, little Aurora is one of the best babies in the world.  Today she had her first trip to the airport, a convention center, a big hotel and a Max and Erma's and that baby did not cry or fuss once.  She was completely enthralled by Gini and, I must say, the feeling is mutual.  Once we got Gini checked in at the Hyatt and settled in her room, we went across the street for dinner.  Hordes of complete and total strangers stopped by our table to grin and wave at the baby--who took it all calmly, as if she expects the star treatment and isn't fazed when she gets it--while Gini, Audrey and I had an animated conversation and showed off pictures of children and pets on our cell phones.  Then Audrey took the baby home and Gini and I...

...hit the bar.

What?  Are you surprised?

At any rate, the feeling at WFC is much different from the Romantic Times convention I attended earlier this year.  To begin with, there's a certain atmosphere that surrounds spec fic writers that is completely missing at a romance convention--a whole bunch of people who look vaguely familiar, as if I know them from the backs of book jackets, and yet seem easily approachable.  I met several other authors (LE Modesitt Jr. stopped by our table, for example), went to one of the party suites on the fifth floor (where I discovered that, yes--there actually ARE drinks that are mixed too strongly for me to imbibe), got into a huge discussion about Star Wars (darn that George Lucas!), Harry Potter, the hero's journey, steampunk, John Wilkes Booth, Stephen Sondheim, steroids in baseball, Greco-Roman mythology, seven foot tall aromatic ill-groomed hobbit look-alikes (don't ask), agents, contracts, the future of the fantasy genre, OCD and just about anything else you could possibly imagine in a four hour conversation over wine and cocktails.

We also decided that Gini and I were probably twins separated at birth, despite the miniscule difference in our ages.  Always great to find a long lost sister!

At any rate, tomorrow I'm attending panels on  mashups, fantasy maps, the Surrealists and Asian horror. Should be fun.  I have now officially vetoed wearing ANY sort of heel at this convention--no way no how--and am spending a little time in the morning getting my publishing resume together--something I've neglected to do so far seeing as I'm up to my eyeballs in edits at the moment.

A day of accomplishment.  I am pleased.

By the way, Gini's second book Alien Tango (the sequel to her Booklist starred debut novel Touched by an Alien) will be available from DAW on December 7, 2010.  Pre-order it if you can; TBAA is one of the funniest sci-fi adventures I've read in a loooooooooooooooooooooong time.  Trust me.

A Month in the Life--April 6,2010

Ah, my life is never dull.

(Yes I know. I missed a day. Keep reading and you'll figure out why.  It's not hard--Monday, I couldn't type.)

At any rate, after an early morning trip to my doctor, an awful, harrowing, long needle-filled hour, I received the news I least wanted to hear.

Bedrest. Ten days. Again.

*sigh*

And, since my shoulder hurts so badly it's hard to type, that means no extensive writing. (I'm cheating with this post, but I'm typing one-handed.  It takes forever) So my initial hopes of having Terella in presentable shape by the RT convention are now endangered.  I did get a huge cortisone shot today, so maybe it'll start working quickly and I can get back to it.  It better, anyway--anytime a needle that damn big goes into my shoulder which is already hurting, I'd better see quick results.

At any rate--between the doctor and the subsequent trip to the Walmart pharmacy and the obligatory waiting forever for new prescriptions to be filled, I lost my entire morning.  I set up camp on the couch in the living room, and with two new books I'd bought for pleasure reading (which I have sorely missed), a couple of cats (they switched out every hour or so) and a big glass of ice water (craving it like a mother) I settled down for an afternoon of absolute brain and body rest while brainless shows on television made a soothing and yet uninteresting noise in the house.

This lasted for an hour.

Then I cracked and opened the laptop.

I spent a couple of hours answering emails, working on proposals, talking to one of my writers (Lizzie T. Leaf--she's a dear lady and we had a lovely and productive conversation), and making one of my infamous lists--something I could type a little at a time.

By four, the roast I'd put in the crockpot was starting to smell fabulous.  I went back to one of the new books and finished it. By the by, it takes me a little over two hours to read your standard romance novel of 350 pages. I picked up a couple of historical romances by popular writers to see what the market was looking like. And then at six, I gave up just a little bit more and started to edit. I figured it wasn't really cheating; after all, most of what I do as an editor is backspace over offending sections and leave little comments, right?

At eleven, when the pain in my shoulder was bad enough that I was ready to cry, I realized I'd been editing for five hours straight.  I took my meds, turned on an old movie (Dragonwyck with Gene Tierney and Vincent Price and Walter Huston) and finally went to sleep a little after twelve thirty.

But what a depressing day--no word count total, only about forty pages edited and nothing really to get excited about as far as productivity.

But what the hey--I got two new books, my friend Gini Koch's new novel was released by DAW (Touched by an Alien--go get a copy now!) and I had roast beef for dinner.  No great loss without some small gains, I guess.

Congratulations, Gini!

Drive By Post

Yep, I'm posting in a hurry today because I've had the most productive day of the year so far! I've cleared out all my submissions, sent off two sets of edits to my writers, written a letter of recommendation for a friend applying to graduate school, doctored up a sick kitty, finished up my laundry, sent out Aurora Regency's very first offers of publication to some very very good writers and started to work on paraphenalia for the Romantic Times convention.  But, in between all of this and my mandatory writing block which begins in fifteen minutes, I had to come post this little nugget quickly.

Remember me telling you I was going to be interviewed by future Hugo nominee (at least, she'd better be nominated at some point damnit!) Gini Koch?  Well, the interview is up and live in the Spotlight section of her website!  Go to http://www.ginikoch.com/spotlight.htm and take a look.  You'll find out things about me you might never otherwise have known!  And then, be sure to check out Gini's upcoming novel Touched by an Alien--which will be released by DAW on April 6~! Gini is a fantastic writer and you won't be disappointed. Touched by an Alien is available for pre-order. Get it now! You won't be sorry.

*sniff*

An interview? With me? Wow. I am overwhelmed.

Way Too Much To Do

It never fails that on a day when you have way too much to do, your body suddenly sits up, screams, "Hell, no! I'm not doing squat!" and provides you with the fabulously entertaining afternoon of trying to explain to the rest of the world why you're not getting done what you need to be getting done.

For example...and don't be so modest. You knew it was coming.

For example--I have two of my own books in edits right now. Both Covenants 2: Warding the Covenants and Mythos 2: Daughter of the Sea are with two entirely different editors.I am also editing two--no, three!--manuscripts for three entirely different writers. Plus, I am writing three...no, four contracted works at the moment and really busting my ass to get Mythos 3: Beloved of a Mortal in shape which means, naturally, that the muse wants to work on any. story. but. that. one.  The kids are coming home next weekend for our wedding anniversary, which means I need to get the house in order and the guest room de-catted.  Then I'm sending the girls with their girls to go get Easter portraits made for all the grandparents and great grandparents.  Then I'm still waiting on my promotional document stands to get here for the RT convention; they have to go in the closet by the sports bottles I got last week. Plus I need to make all my promotional gear for RT--business cards, postcards, bookmarks, cover flats, CDs and covers, table decorations, gift baskets and so forth--NOT TO MENTION the costumes for the two costumed events and work on my pitch and get my other agent-ready manuscripts finalized and start promotion for the nest Mythos book and the next Covenants book AND I have to do review submissions for AMP AND work on royalties AND wade through the slush pile for Aurora Regency and start to whittle it down to viable submissions AND I'd intended to do so much of this this week, starting today, so I sat down for a minute to eat a roll and watch my new favorite and only non-TIVOed television show (Undercover Boss on CBS at 9 pm EST on Sundays--the only show my husband and I both like and watch together so it's our weekly date) and as I bit into the roll--a soft yeast roll, because I love them--something strange happened and...and...

The tooth I was going to have a root canal on the week after this snapped off at the jawline.

The WHOLE tooth, save for a few purgatorial spears of bone, came out in my hand when I spit the strange hard object from my mouth.

First off, I'd just like to point out that considering how much I'm paying for dental care, this really annoys me.

Second, a big I TOLD YOU SO!!! to my dentist who insisted last month that the tooth would make it five more weeks until the root canal.  No, Doc--sorry. It didn't.  And I wasn't chewing ice. I was eating a soft yeast roll.

And, naturally, my third thought was OUCH!

Owowowowowowowowowowow--man does that hurt!  So, despite the hectic schedule this week and the work that is piling up faster than bonbons on a conveyor belt when Lucy is manning the line, everything comes to a screeching halt while I try to coordinate enough time--not only on my schedule but the dentist's--to get this little problem corrected all the time not looking in the mirror at my homage de la Alvin and the Chipmunks facial swelling and seeing double anyway.

All that spring forward crap? I sprang forward--and it looks like I sprang right into a brick wall.

Oh, by the way--I'll blog more about this tomorrow BUT be sure you head to my friend Gini Koch's website on Wednesday, March 24.  She's interviewed me for her site and you might find it funny.  Gini's sci fi novel Touched by an Alien is about to be released by DAW books and is available for pre-order at Barnes & Noble and Amazon. 

Gini is one of the most prolific writers I know. She writes faster than I do, and that's some trick. She's also a hell of a damn good writer with sharp characters and completely amazing world building skills.  I don't say this about many writers so you know I'm telling it like it is.  Hop on over to her website and check it out.  You'll enjoy it--I promise.  Be sure you take a look at Touched by an Alien too.  I've already pre-ordered my copy and you won't regret picking yours up too.  I guarantee you--she's a future Hugo winner! I have faith in her.