Because I wasn’t feeling bleak enough about my literary prospects already, there’s been lots of talk in the news recently about the extreme underrepresentation of women’s voices in literary magazines. I linked to VIDA’s study on the subject last week, and now Salon, The Sisterhood, and Bookslut, among others, have weighed in. Shortly put: it’s not a very welcoming place for women writers. Magazines don’t review many books by women because publishers don’t publish many books by women, despite the fact that women buy and read considerably more books than men. And despite all the breath people spend decrying this disparity, it doesn’t ever seem to change much.
But it wasn’t all doom and gloom for me today. My Latin exam went well, I think, late day at Montessori was fun (so much Lego!) and there’s some indication that the other shoe will drop on a couple more of my applications very soon, one way or another.
I’m really at the point where even bad news is better than no news, and I’m pretty close to making peace with the possibility of striking out again this year. It’s not over yet, but if it winds up that I’m not accepted anywhere this time around, I’ve got some good things to fall back on. As I said to Kristin the other day, it’s really not individual rejections that get me down — unlike last year, when particular schools could break my heart — but more an atmosphere of exclusion and general uncertainty. I had a tough time in elementary school, and a lot of days I would come home in tears, asking my parents, “Why don’t they like me?” That’s what this whole MFA thing has really been about for me: I have faith in myself, but sometimes I really struggle to understand why it seems that nobody else sees what I see in myself. But. People do see that, and I know it and I’m grateful to them for their constant support, and the trick is not to let others make me doubt myself. As Michelle and I constantly remind one another: it’s their loss.
Small Things:
Commemorating (plus, my child's hands!)
Hour of Gold 