Storytellersunplugged

Richard Steinberg

The View From The XY Set

“The misogyny that shapes every aspect of our civilization is the institutionalized form of male fear and hatred of what they have denied and therefore cannot know, cannot share: that wild country, the being of women,” Ursula LeGuin

Let me begin with one clear and unrelenting statement of truth: 

I like my penis, and the two companions that it’s so attached to.  We’ve known each other for over fifty years now, and while they have sometimes led me to places I shouldn’t have gone, it was certainly no more often than I led them astray.  And I would no more sever my relationship with them, than they would wish to be severed from me.

But, this having been said, why should our mutual respect and deep personal attachment prevent me from creating vivid, three-dimensional, compelling, interesting and very cool characters dominated by the XX chromosomal configuration? 

Or, to put it another way:  Ms. LeGuin is wrong.

If I can know, share, and appreciate the wild country of prehistoric creatures, slavering monsters, and/or ancient civilizations founded by societies from the distant future, I can write women; with fairness and conscience.

And write them well . . . even if my three friends might handicap my understanding in the eyes of some poly-X zealots.

One of the most interesting aspects about writing is, to me, the gift of discovery.  The ability to take time – our most precious commodity after life itself – and delve into things we are not, places we have never been, a consciousness or two that we might never become or have considered before.  It’s the ultimate E-ticket ride.  Even more, it’s a thing we must do if we are to call ourselves writers as opposed to creative typists.

This need to know, however, is not limited to which side of the city the river is on, or what is the quickest way from the Pinakothek of Modern Art to the Deutsche Museum using the MVV in Munich.  It also includes who the people are that you’ll encounter in that train station or along the river.

Then, to write them fairly; as they are. Not as you are.

I think my biggest pet peeve among most writing is exactly that:  a lack of differentiation between the characters of a story; both from each other and from my most common reality.

And how much greater that difference must be between male and female characters’ realities?

My mother became a writer near the end.  But even before she began that truly insane journey so many of us are on, she was very conscious of this problem.  She would read a book – and reading books was one of her most favorite things in the universe – and comment that:  “this writer doesn’t like women.”  Or that:  “the writer didn’t spend much time on the women in the book.”   Or her ultimate indictment:  “Do you suppose this writer has actually met a woman?”

A woman, as opposed to a little girl.

Maybe at its heart, that’s the problem.  Male writers drawing distinctions (often quite subtle ones) between their male characters’ levels of maturity and development, and the reasons for them; but forcing their female characters into one size fits all cookie-cutter molds.  And it’s not always sexism that causes it.  Sometimes it is as simple as writing complexly about the things the writer knows and thinks they understand and giving short shrift to those things they don’t.  No sexism intended.

Laziness rules.

There’s another factor at work here as well; a thing that has nothing to do with gender bias.  Some creative typists believe that understanding their non-lead characters and their motivations is just not necessary.  If your story is about a college professor who stumbles across a plot to assassinate Marianne Faithfull, it’s light years easier to give depth and pith only to the Professor & Marianne then it is to spend the time necessary to develop and understand all the other castaways in and around your story.

Easier, but not right.

People are people and do have great commonalities among them.  Much that can be said of one gender applies to another.  We live on the same planet, breathe the same air, aspire to life and happiness, hurt for ourselves and our loved ones, rejoice in subjective beauties, ponder great truths, and seek important answers to almost incalculable mysteries.

But does a man getting out of a car on an isolated level of a darkened parking structure do so the same way a woman does?  Does a boy in his twenties step out of a public pool the same way as a corresponding girl?  When a man in his fifties considers his place in the body politic of his steam-fitting plant does he consider whether or not he is still viewed as attractive (and thereby vital) by his coworkers?

Obviously, in many of these examples and many others, the answer is that there might be no difference between the male and the female perception.  But the harsh truth is also that in most, gender plays a role.  Gender that we need to write honestly and in an informed manner if our works are to live up to our responsibility as writers as opposed to creative typists.

So how do we pull of this alchemy: men writing real women?

“Sometimes they lie. Sometimes they cheat.
They can give you cause to doubt ‘em.
It may be safer crossing the street;
But the world would be so boring without ‘em.
If it’s piece of mind or them, well . . .

“I love men!”  Amanda McBroom

Honesty is critical

I am a fifty year old, white, Jewish, heterosexual, single male.  I need to remember this as I start to write any character I have never been.  I’ve spent my life standing on the less discriminated against side of most arguments.  My knowledge of what it means to be the only woman executive in a corporate environment is therefore rather limited.  But no more than my knowledge of what it means to be a Hesperian Death Merchant in a Soul Bazaar.  But unlike a character created from whole cloth and thereby without any restrictions on its creation, women are readily available for research.

So, with a deep and all abiding commitment to my craft, I throw myself into women.

 The Ethereal Sledgehammer and I have known each other for decades.  Working in a heavily male dominated industry, Sledge has carved out a pretty good career; rising to a Senior Executive position in her company.  But it’s only in the last few years that she’s had some female associates around her.  What was that like, I asked her?  What were the challenges?

She smiled sadly and shrugged.  “After a while, you understand that there are not challenges, plural.  There’s one challenge:  knowing that every day in every way (from your job performance to what you’re wearing) you’re being judged.  And usually judged by men who think I’m after what they’ve got.”

I was engaged to The Patient Narcissist for a time, and while the marriage never happened the friendship continues.  We were getting ready to go to a gathering of friends; an informal, thrown together thing because none of us had plans or wanted to cook.  Pizza and music in the background kind of thing.  The evening was nice and comfortable and laid back and went very well.  On the way home, I expressed as much to Narcissist, who nodded her agreement.

“It did,” she began, “but why do you think Julia was in a dress?”

Thinking about it, Julia – not her real name – was in a casual sun dress while the other women were in slacks or jeans.

“I guess she wanted to wear a dress,” I suggested.

“Yeah, right,” my fiancée laughed as if I was a slow child.  “And that’s why she never took her eyes off her husband whenever he talked to one of the other women.”

Women’s perceptions differ not only within the social/professional contract, but also within the casual world.

Blue Jean was not only one of my most favorite people in the universe, but was one of the most insightful I’ve ever known.  We once were at a social/business party together when she pointed out a publishing executive across the rather massive party floor.  “She’s not happy,” she announced after observing her for maybe thirty seconds.  “No one’s recognized her yet.”  The woman looked happy enough to me, but at Jean’s urging I kept watching until a midlist author walked over and asked the Executive where the bathroom was.  The Executive beamed as if she’d been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize as she gave directions.

Jean knew people.

We were walking down 7th Ave one evening when she pointed out a mega-celebrity coming out of a local restaurant.  He wore a heavy coat, a hat pulled low, walked unassumingly and unnoticeably.  I suggested that the man didn’t want to be noticed, and Jean agreed.

Sort of.

“He just split up with his girlfriend,” she said.  “And the reviews of his new film aren’t out yet.”  Interesting gossip, but not much more.  Later that evening, coming back from the restaurant, we saw him again.  Only this time the hat and coat were gone as he walked by . . . not signing autographs but acknowledging his fans as they recognized him.   “Must have been a good review,” Jean suggested.  The night was warmer then it had been, and the rumors were that the new film was awful, so I bet her a dollar and went and got the New York Times which had just come out.

And ended up a dollar poorer for my trouble.

I’m not suggesting that women are more perceptive than men, or that they are more driven by cosmetic discriminatory practices then men.  Far from it.  I know male executives with the CIA who had hair transplants at their crotch so that they would look more viral in the shower, and others like His Sartorial Splendor who can look at a person from a distance and recite to you their life story with great accuracy.  But there are difference reflected here that do delineate male/female diversions.  That we – as writers – need to be conscious of.

Getting out of a car and walking across a darkened parking lot.

Going into a job interview.

Running down the street.

Working a source for information.

How a seat is selected at a coffee shop.

These and many others are issues that are often approached differently by men and women.  Sexual politics, gender based discrimination, perceptions of vitality or competence all differ as they are filtered through the eyes and hearts of the viewer. And while writing all your characters the same regardless of gender differences both cheats the character and your reader.

And yourself.

“If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant’s life, she will choose to save the infant’s life without even considering if there are men on base,” Dave Barry

The Angry Pacifist disagrees with me.  She believes that the perpetuation of stereotypical sexual images must end, and that the only way for that to happen is to force the issue.  She writes all her characters from the same sexual nexus, regardless of gender; believing that only through this homogenization can equality be found.

But reality flies in the face of that idea.

Men and women are different.  And we, as writers, need to acknowledge the fact and move forward.  All should not be written the same.  A male perspective should not be forced onto a female character anymore than a particularly effeminate one should be.  But that being said, it is incumbent upon me to admit that – having never been a woman – writing them with dimension and breadth (as opposed to dementia and breasts) is a tough gig.

But if I pull it of, well . . .

Women of the world will rise as one too proclaim my greatness, sexual liberation . . .

. . . desirability, and sexual magnificence!

Sorry.

I let my three friends write that part. 

I am a liberated writer, not just a male writer; and I strive on every page to write real women and real men in all their glory, silliness, and intriguing depths.  This is my task as a writer: to write with depth and honesty all my characters.  And I relish that challenge, that often difficult test.

Of course part of my three friends’ statement is quite true.

I am sexually magnificent!

Believe . . . please?