September 15, 2008
Here is an interesting article on female writing and journalism.
From what I’ve been reading lately (online and in Mslexia magazine) I believe that it’s probably very difficult for any writer to get started, genre writers are less likely to be respected in the profession, and that women’s writing is seen as a genre. Odd.
Despite this I would still like to publish under my full name. Just not here, obviously.
August 12, 2008
Although classy I was finding the old layout a little hard to navigate. The type was also too small. And I wanted tabs at the top, which I have now used to start noting down my list of books that I want to read that usually rattles around in my head. Undoubtedly this will grow, suggestions are welcome. I think I’m labouring under the falsehood that eventually I will be able to read ALL the books. All the books ever.
I think I have a stone uterus: I can feel a whole lot of squeezing but not a lot of blood is coming out. A good metaphor for my own stubborness but uncomfortable when stuck on a crappy office chair.
I apologise if that was a little graphic for anyone but it says on the back of my feminist membership card that I can and am actively encouraged to blog about mentruation. So there it is. I’m not sure what the rest of the card says; I’ve had it in my back pocket for a while and some of the words have rubbed off. I did pull it out yesterday though, after soon-to-be-ex Housefolk made some joke about not needing women’s sports to which I replied “We do need them, or else we wouldn’t have any Olympic medals.” Take that, foolish fool!
The conversation took place after Team GB had won gold for street cycling and gold and bronze in swimming. I’m not in to sports myself but hope that these medals go some way to strengthening the legitimacy of female participation.
August 4, 2008
There are things I want to write about at length but I don’t think this is the time. I’m still gathering my thoughts and it’s better not to be rushed. Something that has annoyed me this weekend is how hard it is to find a play showing that isn’t a cheesy musical. Musicals are like Heinz Beanz – the finest of beans, beloved by millions, and yet still just beans and not much good without toast.
I am planning to write more about gender disparity as I keep reading things that bring me back to similar ideas. As I was writing this I wondered if that also contributed to the view of musicals. The stereotypical view is that musicals are for women and gay men – feminine with bright colours and emotions. Real Theatre(TM) is serious, involves real acting and possibly ‘shakespearean actors’ – in short the highest form of the art. Musicals are on everywhere and run for decades, but are rarely regarded as high-art. They are more likely to be the lowest common denominator, the trashy beach novel of the stage. They may make the money but they are not respected in the same way. How did this lead to the less respectable musicals becoming the arena of women and queers and high art theatre being seen as more masculine?
I don’t know but I am annoyed, both because I want to watch a serious play and because I enjoy musicals. I’m sure I can even name more musicals that plays – is that wrong? Or just a reflection of our popular culture?
April 29, 2008
Due to some kind of crazy internet timing system that somehow escapes my understanding my previous entry, made yesterday afternoon, has been marked with today’s date. I’m not going to stress over it as it’s close enough, and as long as the posts stay chronological it’s really no big deal.
To open up the question in a more philosophical vein: what does now really mean in context? I’m currently reading a collection of women’s letters that spans the last 800 years and it mentioned the tradition of women writing about women’s novels from previous eras. It occured to me that I have never really considered that although I have full access to all that has gone before I assume that history happened in isolated nuggets. Which is wrong. Ok I’m not a total dumbass: it actually occured to me just before christmas when I was wikipeding some of my favourite authors and influencers, only to discover that they in turn had been influenced by what had come before them. I started to wonder how far you would have to trace this back to discover the origins of certain ideas.
Letters, that strange and seemingly obsolete communication medium, have been making a prominent appearance in my mind of late. Before the above mentioned collection I was reading a book called Virginia Woolf’s Women which featured a large number of extracts from letters both to, from and about dear Ginia. Letters used to be much admired (probably before VW’s time) and passed around to show the skill of the writer. This has been lost now but our culture still has a keen thirst for gossip and voyeurism as quenched by our disturbing media who frequently seem to miss the point. I was even more upset than usual by the Daily Mail website today when they ‘paid tribute’ to actor Kris Marshall after he was injured in a car accident by publishing a picture of him being scraped off the road by paramedics. Sad and grim. I guess this type of thing has taken the place of the public execution.
But anyway, back to things about me. As I have no assignment at work this week (going to work for no reason being the bane of my existence) I have been trawling teh interwebs and my find of the week is etsy.com the craft shop website. My new hobby of cross stitch (don’t laugh) that I started about a month ago is working out rather well, but as I am almost finished with my first project it struck me that after a while I’m going to have a massive pile of things I’ve made and only so much space left on the ceiling. So perhaps I might sell things. I’d have to make a good few more before I could make a shop, and I’m sure BFF will stiff me for one before I’m allowed any kind of profit. But yes, although profit may seem to be the enemy of creativity it does give me something to work towards and perhaps even a few pennies to go in the ‘one day I will own property’ fund.
The point at which my random ramblings intersects is this: what if I wrote a short story in the form of some letters and sold it as a work of art on etsy? I have always had a strong feeling that words and art were intertwined, hence my passion for William Blake and cross stitching phrases, and decorating words and writing on pictures seems to be the only way in my mind to show all the things I want to show. Seeing some of the things on etsy, particularly illustrated poems made up as booklets, and seeing that they sell well gives me a little hope that I could do something like that too. I probably wouldn’t be as successful as I am out of practice and outside the USA so my shipping costs would be higher but there is hope nontheless.