This post is from over On The Book Pile, the place I talk about reading and writing. I also have some works in progress password protected over there too, if you’re interested in checking them out just let me know.
In A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf concludes, after exploring the absence of books about women by women in libraries and expounding upon the lack of women’s financial legacy to fuel their own education, that what women need to create a work of art is financial stability and an education of sorts. The education should be about seeking new experiences, travel and generally living life.
Of course, Woolf expounds upon the injustices of women’s role in society and lack of appreciation of a woman’s perspective in literature. The male views, of football fields and wars, are valued over the female views of drawing rooms and families. I believe this is true even today.
Female and family is familiar. Familiarity breeds contempt. No one want to be an aspiring romance novelist, or a folksy writer of *gasp* short stories or hundreds of blog posts. I’ve been in countless writing workshops where colleagues admit literary aspirations and haven’t published a single word. And I have hundreds of sentence fragment-filled nuggets of truth circling the globe. Just check out my blogroll. And people read ‘em too. To Continue Reading…
