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Timmossholder on Unsplash |
A Most Agreeable Murder is such a good parody, I wonder if people unfamiliar with what is being parodied will get it. Must be they do, or enough do, anyway, because a sequel is coming in June.
Author Gail Gauthier's Reflections On Books, Writing, Humor, And Other Sometimes Random Things
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Timmossholder on Unsplash |
What I like about them is that they are things anyone can do. She says nothing here about MFA programs. She says nothing about writers' retreats in remote places. She says nothing about putting your butt in a chair and writing every day or you really aren't interested in being a writer, are you?
What she does do is write about things you can do right away. Like this afternoon.
A lot of what she's talking about is what I think of as how writers live. We do:
To support their effort, here is a list of books dealing with subjects under the diverse books umbrella that I've enjoyed here at Original Content.
A Splash of Red: The Life and Art of Horace Pippin by Jen Bryant and Melissa Sweet
Bad News for Outlaws by Vaunda Micheaux Nelson and R. Gregory Christie
Company's Coming by Arthur Yorinks and David Small
Don't Hold Me Back by Winfred Rembert
March: Book One by John Lewis, Andrew Ayden, and Nate Powell
Finding Langston by Lesa Cline-Ransome
One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia
Jasmine Toguchi, Mochi Queen by Debbi Michiko-Florence and Elizabet Vukovic
Strange Fruit by Gary Golio and Charlotte Riley-Webb
Home Field Advantage by Dahlia Adler
Mare's War by Tanita S. Davis
Dread Nation by Justina Ireland
Deathless Divide by Justina Ireland
The Field Guide to the North American Teenager by Ben PhilippeDear Haiti, Love Alaine by Maika Moulite and Maritza Moulite
The Hired Girl by Laura Amy Schlitz
Open Mic: Riffs on Life Between Cultures in Ten Voices, Mitali Perkins, editor
A Sitting at St. James by Rita Williams-Garcia
Winter's Orbit by Everina Maxwell
The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead
The Cooking Gene by Michael W. Twitty
The Women's History Month portion of my Heritage Month Project has provided me with an opportunity to do some thinking about two women writers who worked in times that were close together in terms of timeline but different in terms of what was going on in society. They also both wrote about the lives of housewives.
I am talking about my obsession, Shirley Jackson, and Erma Bombeck.
These essays are drole, but they don't focus on being funny. They are not jokie. There is no reaching to get a laugh, because making readers laugh isn't the point. The family members who appear in the essays are well-defined characters. Whether they are true to life or not is another thing, but from essay to essay they stay true to the characters Jackson created.
Because these essays were written so long ago, some of them seem like historical documents. The one on teenagers' need to conform, for instance. That was an issue in the 1950s? Who knew? Jackson gives the best explanation for the teenage desire to sacrifice individuality for the crowd that I've ever seen.
What Jackson doesn't do in the housewife essays in Let Me Tell You is complain about doing housework. I kept waiting for that, but it never came. She certainly doesn't glorify it or say anything to suggest it is women's God given role for which they should be grateful. Housework isn't a good thing, it isn't a bad thing. It's just a thing.
Around the same time Jackson was writing for women's magazines, Erma Bombeck, a humorist who wrote specifically about being a housewife and mother, began writing a column for a local newspaper. It wasn't until the mid-sixties, however, that she became a syndicated columnist and the '70s and '80s were her era.
Being old as mud, as I am, I remember Erma Bombeck. It is difficult to exaggerate how successful she was. I remember being surprised to see her as a guest on some evening television special. I was totally blown away when I learned she was pulling down half a million dollars a year, because that was real money back then. I didn't know until recently that she had an eleven-year gig on Good Morning America or that she developed and wrote for a sitcom. It was not a successful sitcom. However, this was before stand-up comics were getting their own shows. To me the failure of the show is far less significant than the fact that a woman got a chance to create one.
I have huge respect for Bombeck's achievement. I was just never a fan of her writing. It may have been because I was younger and felt the things she wrote about were somewhat dated. I may have found her humor obvious and contrived. I can't even recall. I tried to read one of her books this past month and just couldn't get through it. Bombeck's success must have put her under tremendous pressure to produce content for the columns and appearances she was making, which Jackson probably didn't experience. The "rush to publish" could easily have had an impact on her writing.
Is Writing About Housewives a Good Career Move?
In the foreword to Let Me Tell You, Jackson's biographer, Ruth Franklin, says that Jackson "considered herself at least a part-time housewife." A lot of the writing she did about that part-time life was done in the early 1950s, a period we think of as the Golden Age of Housewifery, the era I've read that trad wives look back upon with nostalgia. Yet an article in The Guardian from 2016 raises the question of whether critics didn't take her seriously for a long time because of "her busy sideline producing funny tales about life as a housewife and mother for women's magazines." The era when being a housewife was most highly accepted was also a time when being a housewife marked you as lesser? Twisted much?
Bombeck, on the other hand, was writing during the second wave of feminism. Women were leaving the house. You'd think that would be a really bad time to be trying to make a career writing about housewives. But, no, Bombeck did fantastically well. Two theories about why, both my own:
"To stop receiving security material from the White House, hit UNSUBSCRIBE."
I laughed out loud at that one, though it doesn't seem that funny now. Maybe you had to be in bed to get it.
Or how about the skeets with something like "Me listening to White House war plans" with a clip from some movie of an actor playing a bored military guy with a telephone held to his ear? I've seen that one twice.
There was also a Maxwell Smart joke I liked, though I can't remember how it went now. And a really good one with a photo of Putin looking at a cell phone and saying, Hold it, guys. P. Hegseth is typing.
In addition to being Women's History Month, March is The Month of La Francophonie (also called Francophonie month), a time to celebrate French language and culture. March 20th, which I have missed by a day, is International Francophonie Day, again celebrating the language and, also, supporting language diversity. The date corresponds with the anniversary of the Agency for Cultural and Technical Cooperation in 1970 in Niger, formed to work toward Francophone cooperation.
This year's theme for International Francophonie Day is Je m'éduque, donc j'agis (look I got the accent marks in!), which means I educate myself, therefore I act. This tends to be my personal mantra (in the sene of a repeated statement rather than a sound to aid meditation), anyway, and it seems hugely appropriate for the times we live in, whether you're talking language or anything else.
I have observed La Francophonie Month a couple of times here at Original Content. This year I read the L'Avenir by French Canadian author Catherine Leroux. And I read the English language version, The Future, translated by Susan Ouriou, because my French reading involves picking out words here and there in, say, the intro paragraph of a magazine article. Reading a novel is way beyond me.![]() |
The French cover is much better |
Monster, She Wrote is what might be described as a popular history. There's a section for each author covered, and within that section is an overview/critique, a list of the author's best works, and a list of similar authors. That last section I particularly liked.
The authors begin with women writers of Gothic novels in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, since, they say, "There's a strong argument that horror as it exists in the twenty-first century evolved from the Gothic novel..." They cover six women in this section, the two best known (because I've heard of them) being Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and Ann Radcliffe. Now six is not a statistically significant number. But I was still surprised there were that many, in part because conventional wisdom tells us that women in the past just could not and did not work.
Later sections of the book tie time periods to subjects such as ghost stories, the occult, pulps, and paperback horror. I was particularly interested in women writing in various fields in the twentieth century. These writers moved around with work, some writing for television as well as paperbacks. Or, like Shirley Jackson, writing horror as well as domestic stories for women's magazines. I like the idea of not allowing yourself to be tied to one thing.
The last section, The Future of Horror and Speculative Fiction, included interesting people whose work I'm now interested in reading. In fact, I've already read a short story by Helen Oyeyemi.
For some time, I've been interested in women who self-identify as housewife writers. There aren't a lot of them, but I am trying to focus my Women's History Month reading on that. I'm not talking about homemaking as women's God-given role, what they are born to do. I am talking about homemaking as life maintenance, eating and putting clothes on backs and who does that for themselves and others? Why is that not considered as significant as roping a steer or running a store? I have a theory.
In their section of Monster, She Wrote called Haunting the Home Kroger and Anderson say, "Historically, women have been consigned to the domestic realm, running the household and caring for children." "Many of the women profiled in this book struggled with that dichotomy: the pressure to care for home and family, and the need to tend their writing career. Haunted house fictions play upon the complex fears and concerns about domestic issues that woman have long grappled with."
They include Shirley Jackson in that section. I consider her to be the ultimate housewife writer. More on that before the end of the month.
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You can read anywhere |
I used the U.S. Department of State's list of heritage months, which existed in February. It does not exist now. Back in February, when I wrote about this, I carefully made a list of those heritage months, though it doesn't include which heritage groups are recognized on which calendar months. You can also find an archived State Department Celebrates Heritage and History Months from a different administration that looks pretty similar to the page that disappeared.
You can read anytime |
You don't need a government agency's guidance to read about women, Arab Americans, Jewish Americans, immigrants, LGBTQ Americans, Hispanic Americans, or Native Americans. Google any of those topics, and you'll find agencies and libraries with book lists.
More important than reading about these groups, read books by authors who are members of these groups. It doesn't matter whether you buy their books or get them at a library, whether you read a traditional or e-book edition. Read something. If you like what you've read, use your voice to tell people.
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Image from Netflix |
This piece was time sensitive, in that "With Love, Meghan," which did, indeed, trigger the dream described, released last week and anything written referring to it would need to be published soon. This is significant, because in addition to being introverted, I am quite a slow writer. This may only be the second time I've written, submitted, and had something published this fast. Maybe it's the third. I don't know. It's unusual for me, at any rate.
One of the issues I was dealing with here is that this piece is pretty much an essay. Borderline memoir. That cuts down on the number of places I could submit it, because some humor sites don't accept essays. Additionally, as a reader of on-line humor, I don't want to sit in front of a screen reading a lot of text. Thus, the judicious use of subheadings.
MuddyUm requires their writers to use kickers, a line above the title that helps define what the piece is. I came up with "Introvert Humor." Now I'm thinking maybe I could do more of that.
The Cooking Gene: A Journey Through African American Culinary History in the Old South by Michael W. Twitty is another book I've owned for some time but didn't read. I was attracted, I'm sure, by the culinary history aspect. But now that my body is shot and I'm limited in what I eat, reading about food, itself, doesn't interest me as much as it used to. I've started following gluten free Facebook pages to give you an idea how my mind runs these days.
This book, though, isn't just about food.
Twitty is a food writer, culinary historian, independent historian, and historical interpreter. I'm not sure if he's a cook/chef, though he does cook as part of his work as a historical interpreter, demonstrating food cooked as slaves would have done it in the south. For my last unsold book, I did research on independent historians for one of the characters, and I am delighted to be able to point to The Cooking Gene as an example of the kind of work that historians who are not connected to an academic institution can produce.
And as a food writer, Twitty does very fine work, too. If he cooks a third as well as he writes, he must be very good with that, too.
What Twitty is doing with The Cooking Gene is using his family history to connect with the history of slaves in this country and tying it together with food. We get genealogy with this book, just as we did with Pearl's Secret, though Twitty has the benefit of DNA testing, which Neil Henry didn't have when he was doing his family research. Twitty did more than one DNA test and got dramatically more information than I got with the one Ancestry.com test I was willing to pay for. He also had a personal genealogist. Here's something you never hear: "If I win the lottery, I'm hiring a personal genealogist!" Just so you know, I'm saying it now.
Twitty travels to different parts of the south where his ancestors lived and writes about the different foods that were common there, as well as historical issues for each area. Once again, I'm supposed to know a little history. When I thought of crops in the old south, I thought of cotton. But it wasn't just cotton. It was tobacco (which I sort of knew about) and rice (which I didn't). As nasty crops to work with go, rice sounds the worst.
Twitty makes an interesting point about cotton: We think of cotton as having a huge impact on the enslavement of Blacks, but it did more. It had an impact on immigration in the north, because of all the cotton fabric mills that employed them. Evidently the so-called "Americans" who didn't want to work in the fields in the south, meaning we needed unpaid slaves, also didn't want to work in the mills in the north, so we needed underpaid immigrants. Which raises the question, what did "Americans" want to do?
The issue of immigration in the north connects with my people, because French Canadians came into this country in the nineteenth century to work in those mills Twitty mentions. But that's a story for another month.
While I was reading this book, I was acutely aware that Twitty was raised knowing a great deal more about Black cooking than I was raised knowing about French Canadian or even Franco American. But, again, that's for another piece of writing.
This was a great book to finish my Black History Month reading, since it relates to two of the other three books I read. As I said, it does some of what Neil Henry does in Pearl's Secret. But it also covers grim material like The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead. It's grimmer, in fact, because when Twitty writes about auction blocks and Black men and women being stripped so white shoppers can check them out, that was real. Readers can reassure themselves that The Underground Railroad is fiction. The Cooking Gene isn't.
I've had a good month of reading. Time to move on to Women's History.
As I said earlier, reworking material for different markets is often done. I've been interested in reworking some old OC posts as well as the posts I plan to write for this year's Heritage Month Project. The first draft is done here, anyway, so we're only talking revision. Revising could involve restructuring a piece, as I did with I Came for the Genealogy, or it could mean adding new material. It's interesting work, but not terribly taxing.
I don't know how long I'll continue with this, though, because the bottom has fallen out of the Medium publishing platform as far as readership is concerned. If you look at the eleven (eleven!) pieces published with mine by Books Are Our Superpower on February 27, no one is getting a lot of attention from readers as far as claps are concerned, even though that publication has 66,000 followers. More people could be reading and just not responding, but the claps are a quick and dirty way for a reader to see what's going on with other writers.
Another way is to read Medium articles about publishing on Medium. Readership and income has been plummeting for many writers there since last fall. To give you an example, in the past I've had three articles chosen for what is called the "boost program," meaning they were selected for further promotion. Those three articles made anywhere from $80 + or - to over $600. The Heritage Month article published on February 9 of this year was boosted and made $11.28.
I just realized the other boosted articles were all humor. Maybe that just does better on Medium, though self-help and tech are supposed to be the big draws there. Not that I write either of those.
At any rate, I am rethinking what I'm spending my time on this next year. I won't be changing my goals, but probably my objectives.
The Underground Railroad is the story of an American slave, Cora, living in the early nineteenth century south. The time is significant, I think, because we know the Emancipation Proclamation (1863) is long in her future, assuming she's even still alive when it comes. The beginning of her tale is heart-breakingly grim, about life on the plantation. But it's a kind of heartbreak most of us have heard about before. It's not until she enters the underground railroad that something unique happens.
What happens is that The Underground Railroad turns into alternative history.
The historical underground railroad was an informal network of people who helped American slaves escape into free states, where they might end up being captured and returned to the south, or into Canada, where slavery had been against the law since 1834, when Great Britain outlawed it in its empire. The railroad metaphor for the system was enhanced by the use of the terms "conductors" for guides, "depots" or "stations" for buildings where slaves could be hidden, and "stationmasters" for the people who owned the homes or otherwise were responsible for a building, accepting and hiding slaves there.
Whitehead's alternative underground railroad involves a real railroad that is truly under the ground. When Cora gets onboard, she begins a journey story in which she makes stops that provide her with respite but only for a while.
Her first stop is in South Carolina where we immediately understand that we're not in the historical south anymore, because one of the first things Cora sees is what is called a skyscraper. Life is a lot better for Blacks in South Carolina, which has what might be called an enlightened attitude. But there's something not quite right here, in a very futuristic scifi kind of way. Sure enough, South Carolina has a little eugenics thing going on. Before this can become an issue she has to deal with, Cora finds out she is being hunted by someone who makes his living catching and returning escaped slaves to their owners.
She boards the railroad again.
A second stop has a Holocaust feel and another a utopian commune vibe. The ending reminded me of The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood, which makes sense. The Handmaid's Tale is a story of a woman caught in a nightmarish future, and The Underground Railroad is a story of a woman caught in a nightmarish past.
I'm not totally comfortable saying I enjoyed a book dealing with a historical issue that is so painful. But the alternative history aspect helps to give distance. Black experience makes some great source material for genre writing.
By the time I finally started reading Pearl's Secret, I thought it was going to be a Finding Your Roots thing. That worried me since I stopped watching that show, because I find it so formulaic. ("Your ancestors suffered horribly. How does that make you feel?") Then I thought the book was going to be a memoir of Henry's experience hunting for his white family members, maybe some nerdy stuff about hunting high and low. You do get a little of that. Genealogical research was much more of a chore before the Internet, even if today sites like Ancestry.com are only as accurate as the strangers who are doing the posting there.
But what the book really is is a family history as it relates to race, first through the Black side and then the white side of Henry's family, once he connects with them. I personally think family histories relate to the greater histories families lived through, and Henry's story supports that.
Henry describes his childhood in Seattle as the youngest son of a surgeon and a librarian as being Leave it to Beaverish. It was an idyllic suburban life interrupted by episodes of racism. He's invited by a couple of little white girls in his neighborhood to come over and play only to be chased down the street by their grandfather when he goes to the door. Not at all surprised he remembered that years later. In his family there is talk of the value of having light skin and good hair while at the same time feeling great respect for their Black history and culture. Believe me, no one was talking about French Canadian achievements and listening to French Canadian music when I was growing up. My mother's side of the family didn't know they had any kind of achievements or music, which I suppose can easily happen when your name is Adams.
Henry's own story of being adrift while attending Princeton and working for Ben Bradlee at The Washington Post tended to drag for me, because I've read about guys going to private schools and having good jobs in journalism before. His grandparents are nice people, but he doesn't talk that much about them. The relatives who are the stars of his family show are his parents, who experienced life under Jim Crow and survived and overcame it. Their stories are riveting, shocking. Seriously, I am shocked by how little I, who have taken a history course or two and read a few history books, have known about the Jim Crow era until recently. I kept talking about these people at the dinner table while I was reading about them.
Netflix! Where are you? I would watch this mini-series.
I don't want to say too much about the Beaumonts, Henry's white family, because there's sort of a creative nonfiction thing going on here, with a narrative climax that I don't want to give away. Though I will just say, "boll weevil." Yes, I had heard the name, just as I had heard "Jim Crow." I had no idea the significance, though.
Regarding Peal's secret, itself--That's a bit of a surprise, too. It's not that she was a Black woman hiding her white background or a Black woman passing as white, because she was neither of those things. Her secret is something else.
Pearl's Secret is a great example of how reading about people you are less familiar with opens up opportunities to see something different, to add to your personal knowledge base. My feelings about this book reminded me of reading Don't Hold Me Back, a picture book memoir written and illustrated by the late artist, Winfred Rembert. Rembert was a few years older than me, but not a lot, and I actually met him. In his book, he writes about growing up in the south at the end of the Jim Crow era. I found it disturbing that someone nearly my contemporary had to pick cotton as a child and saw the bodies of lynched Black men hanging from trees. Now I realize that growing up poorish in rural Vermont when I did, without weekly news magazines or a daily paper coming into the house, was probably a great protector for little Gail in terms of what was going on in the rest of the world.
James Marriott, a columnist with The Times (London), wrote a few days ago that "Our society has been peaceful and healthy for so long that for many people serious disaster has become inconceivable." It's also inconceivable if we never knew it happened.
Jane, our biracial main character, is going through a desperate period. She teaches writing at a so-so college where she is at a crucial point. She has been on leave for a year where she is supposed to be finishing...and selling...her novel about mulattoes that she has been working on for ten years. If she can't sell it, she won't get tenure and will be stuck with the heavy workload that the untenured have to shoulder there. Additionally, her funny (yeah, he is funny) artist husband is talented, but his work doesn't sell. The family is constantly moving from one less than desirable living situation to another. One of their two children appears to be in the early stages of being diagnosed with a neurodivergent issue. (Seriously, that can take what seems like forever.) Jane's hopes for a black bohemian bourgeois life for herself and her family are all pinned on that book. That desire is intensified after having housesat for a year in her wealthy TV writer friend's home and experiencing the good life.
I may not have found this book particularly funny because this white/failed middle grade writer/homemaker identified a lot with its mixed race/failed literary writer/academic. I mean a lot. I, too, am a woman writer who can no longer sell a book and is flailing around with other kinds of writing and has a little boy like Flinn in my family. I found myself shouting to Jane in my head. "Come on, Jane! You wrote and published one book. You know another book isn't going to fix everything." "Jane! Jane! Don't drink all Brett's expensive wine!"
Jane leaves novel writing after it becomes clear her second book is dead before it even gets in the water. She finds it a relief. I have left novel writing, too, and Jane is right. It is a relief. Except all the little writing projects I come up with for myself can be overwhelming. And, wouldn't you know it, Jane comes up with smaller writing projects that are overwhelming her. Her's involve pitching a comedy show about mulattoes to a Hollywood wheeler and dealer named Hampton Ford.
Now Hampton Ford is also desperate. He complains that the ideas Jane pitches him aren’t mulatto enough, that they’re about random things and the characters she's talking about don’t have to be mulatto. They could be anybody. I wonder, is that why this book grabs me and evidently a lot of other readers? Is this a book about a mixed-race woman living a desperate life, writing a book about mulattoes, pitching ideas about mulattoes, but she could be anybody?
She could be so any of us?
After what seemed to me like quite a bit of rejection the past couple of months, including two last Friday, I had three pieces published in three different Medium publications this past week.
Anyway, the backstory to this story is pretty much there in the story. The only interesting bit is that the weekend before it was accepted, I found myself with some extra time, because we were expecting snow the day I was supposed to visit with some relatives and help with the little people there. I spent this time making three small-batch recipes while my husband made one, so I could take pictures for this submission. One of my recipes didn't get into the pictures, because it was not photo ready when it came out of the oven. But that's how the photos in the article came about.
Interesting point: Tastyble has editors who do edit. Many publications on Medium don't. Editors can be helpful. The Tastyble editor I worked with made an excellent point about my original title. It was arty, but told nothing.
The snow didn't develop, I could have gone to my family's house instead of baking and taking pictures for work, but probably wouldn't have because it ended up that two people therre were sick. I worked instead of doing the mother thing.