THE DOCTOR IS IN

PERCEPTION AND PUBLISHING, PART 2

Every year when MJ posts Oprah’s male-dominated book club picks, she adds the caveat, “I'm not suggesting affirmative action here. I never am. I don't believe in it.” 

I do believe, strongly, in affirmative action, but I don’t see how it could work in publishing, which is, in essence, a popularity contest. It’s not like athletics, or surgery, in which there are clear markers of excellence. Your book is considered a success if either influential people think well of it, or a lot of regular people want to buy it. So if the consensus among experts is that ten men, and no women, have written superior books this year, or if readers are racing to buy books by white authors but not by authors of color, how can you argue with that? The cognoscenti and the public have spoken, and the publishers are just following suit, right? Maybe some groups are just naturally better writers than others. 

Well, no. There are the matters of preconception and presentation. Last week I wrote about erroneous assumptions people make based on shaky evidence. This happens in art, as well. 

For example, until the 1970s, woman musicians were relatively rare in prominent orchestras. There were widespread assumptions about women’s lack of ability/dedication/confidence, which weren’t seriously challenged until orchestras began conducting “blind” auditions—in which applicants were identified by numbers rather than names, and played while hidden from sight behind a screen. Then the numbers of women accepted into orchestras began to climb significantly. 

In the past, women novelists could write under male pseudonyms in order to be taken seriously. George Eliot, George Sand, the Bells, Isak Dinesen, and James Tiptree, Jr. only “came out” (or were outed) after their work had achieved some success. And as Samuel Delany points out,

We know of dozens upon dozens of early pulp writers only as names: They conducted their careers entirely by mail—in a field and during an era when pen-names were the rule rather than the exception. Among the “Remmington C. Scotts” and the “Frank P. Joneses” who litter the contents pages of the early pulps, we simply have no way of knowing if one, three, or seven or them—or even many more—were not blacks, Hispanics, women, native Americans, Asians, or whatever. Writing is like that.

Of course, that sort of anonymity is no longer possible, now that writers are expected to also be publicists. (And creating a male persona to perform this function for you tends to backfire; just ask Laura Albert.) 

Yes, I know, Gay Girl in Damascus and “Paula Brooks.” But honestly, had you ever heard of these people before “Amina” was “kidnapped”? Me, neither. 

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. She is the author of Getting Unstuck without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity (Seal, 2007). Her Career Coach column appears every Monday on Inside Higher Ed's Mama, Ph.D. blog, and she is a regular guest panelist on Litopia After Dark. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com. 

 

 

Comments

[Eternalbondnovelist]

If you're talented it shouldn't matter, but people are a lot more prejudice than they would like to admit. Men are using female pen names in order to write romance novels because of the assumption that men can't be romantic. Also, women are using male pen names to write technical books, because women aren't considered good at science or mechanics. But if it didn't work, writers wouldn't be doing it! It's been proven time and time again if you package it right, it will sell!