(Image by author)
Writers, I have put down my pen for much of this August and am reading.
It’s been wonderful, deliciously so, to allow myself big chunks of time each day to just read. I have a list as long as my arm of novels and stories I’ve been wanting to tackle, and am thoroughly enjoying working my way down the list!
But not all is delightful.
Like all writers, I have a life. That is, a life apart from writing. I know, it can be hard to believe that writers can find the time and resources to earn degrees, land jobs, fall in love, marry, buy houses, produce children, pay taxes, unclog drains, and weed the garden.
That our lives, on the outside, can appear so boringly, or brightly, normal to the casual viewer.
Olympic hurdler, Olga Gyarmati, 1949 (Wikimedia Commons, source: Fortepans)
I thought, having lived for decades as a consciously identified feminist, that I was aware of most gender differences. And, having written for years I’ve thought–when I gave the subject of gender differences in writing my attention–that I was aware of how differences between men and women play out in our writing lives.
Well, I stand corrected.
(Image attribution below)
Sutton Hoo (Chicago Quarterly Review, vol 14)
Martha leaned close to the glass case. Inside, in one corner, lay a desiccated fly, its wings caught in a puff of dust. In the middle of the case stood a low platform covered in beige fabric. On top of the platform rested a large black and red Grecian jar. Martha couldn’t describe its kind, or what it might have been, centuries ago, used for. She knew only that the jar fascinated her, and she didn’t feel bad for not remembering more from her undergraduate ancient Greek art class. She’d taken that class more than eight years ago. How often does one review the features–the handles, hips and shoulders, lips and feet–of Greek pottery?