The Girls Are Better Writers
…at least here on Medium anyway.
I’ve always viewed writing as a distinctly guy thing. You know…tiny room, wife beater undershirt, boxer shorts, messy desk, a bottle of wine, cigar maybe…
…little classical music playing on a small, vintage radio…
…laboring over where to place a comma or a semicolon…
That sort of thing.
It’s not that I was in any way against women writers, it’s just that they often fell outside the realm of my Bukowskian romanticism, so it quite literally never occurred to me to read them.
I prefer gritty, first person, semi-autobiographical writing, about deeply flawed people who are often redeemed — or killed — by their stubborn refusal to play by societal rules and often find themselves in the margins as a result, struggling to survive while still nurturing a very improbable dream to write, or paint, or create music, or whatever.
Typically they’re the drinking types, for obvious reasons…
And those type of people tend to be men. I think the women are too smart to play that game.
With the exception of Hunter Thompson, I don’t like the druggies. They don’t appeal to me. There’s something repulsive and deeply hypocritical about them. William Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, and that group — the “Beats” — , their ethos of limitless freedom and rigorous individuality was mostly just an excuse for their continued depravity, debauchery, and unwillingness to accept any sort of responsibility in their daily lives…
I prefer Celine, Bukowski, Dan Fante, John Fante, Knut Hamsun, Hubert Selby Jr. Yeah I know there’s very little plot in their novels but plot is overrated. And I know they were kinda debauched too but I’m willing to make some allowances there for various reasons…
…but I digress.
Moving on…
And by the way, when I say the girls are better writers, I’m talking about people with vaginas. And no, not makeshift ones fashioned from the remnants of mutilated penises and back fat. I’m talking about real, honest-to-goodness vaginas here…
Remember those? Aw man! The good old days!
Well, that’s what inspires men to write. Oh, there’s a few other reasons, like self-expression, some desire for recognition maybe, money perhaps…um…er…let’s see, what else?…yeah it’s just mostly to do with vaginas.
Ladies, we want to impress you. It’s built into our biology.
Hey! Biology! Remember that? Wow, I miss biology too! But don’t worry, not enough to acknowledge it openly. That would be hurtful, and I do understand that.
By the way, you’ll all have to forgive me. Yes of course I was going to title the piece “The Birthing Persons Are Better Writers”, but I got caught up in nostalgia and went retro. I hope I haven’t offended anybody…
Anyway, where were we?
Mike, enough with the sarcasm…say something kind about the women writers already…
Ah yes, thank you voice in my head, I will…
I’m tempted to name names, but I know myself too well — I’ll spend the rest of the day and evening neurotically reviewing the mental list of women writers here I admire, and I’ll obsess over the 2 or 3 I forgot to mention and be up all night composing apologies to them in my head. But no matter what I eventually say to them or how many times I say it, it won’t relieve the sense of guilt I feel. “Sorry I missed you! You’re great! Truly! You Are! No really, I mean it! Seriously!…”
It’s not that I imagine — even for a moment — that my acknowledgement is in any way meaningful. It’s just that I’m cursed with this obsessive fear that I might hurt someone’s feelings in some way by omitting them — someone I like or admire — and that type of thing will eat me alive.
No, no, I’m not making the case that I’m good boy. I’m not a good boy. My ex-girlfriend will vouch for that. The last time I saw her she was slowly backing out of my apartment door, with her arms and hands burdened by boxes and various kitchen appliances, and she was unloading all the frustrations she had obviously been keeping hidden over the last year or so….
“Oh you’re so clever and witty with your little jokes! Oh yes! The great Knittel and his little stories and little novel! Oh, you’re so brilliant and wonderful buddy! Oh I’m soooooooo impressed…”
“Yes, go on,” I told her.
She was clearly being condescending. But it amused me to think that if a transcript were ever made of this exchange, a literal interpretation of the words would actually look complimentary. The thought made me laugh.
“Oh this is soooo funny buddy! Glad you’re amused! I swear, you’re…you’re…” And here she stopped herself, as if reassessing her verbal strategy moving forward. Her eyes darted desperately around the room, from the ceiling to the floor, to the desk to the TV, as if one of these inanimate objects might impress upon her the words she was so desperately searching for…
And then she suddenly composed herself, and very soberly and matter-of-factly said, “You’re just a terrible person Mike.” She almost whispered it. And then she walked out the door…
It really wounded me, I’ll admit it. Because I could tell she meant it. She almost didn’t say it, despite all her anger and frustration, and that’s a testament to her character. I must have really screwed up in some way to give this impression…
The argument all started with what began as a discussion on the differences between women and men writers. Harmless enough, right?
Wrong.
The details of that discussion would require another article entirely, but for the sake of this little piece here I’ll just say that I was less than complimentary of women writers. Being a woman writer herself, a very skilled one with a real honest-to-goodness vagina, she obviously took offense…
And then one thing led to another, this and that was said, so on and so forth…and you all know how that goes.
So perhaps this little piece here is a penance of some sort, but I don’t really think so. The women here on medium are better writers than the men, and I don’t have any problem admitting that. Not only are they better, it seems like there’s much more of them. And I think it’s refreshing.
Nearly every time I’m reading something, and I’m impressed with a turn of phrase, or a joke of some sort, or whatever, it’s a woman writer who has written it.
As I said, I’m tempted to name names, but I’m just not gonna go there. All you birthing persons know who you are. Keep up the good work.
***
Please consider supporting me here. Many thanks: https://ko-fi.com/mikeknittel83646