"A very queer, composite being thus emerges. Imaginatively she is of the highest importance; practically she is completely insignificant. She pervades poetry from cover to cover; she is all but absent from history. She dominates the lives of kings and conquerors in fiction; in fact she was the slave of any boy whose parents forced a ring upon her finger. Some of the most inspired words, some of the most profound thoughts in literature fall from her lips; in real life she could hardly read, could scarcely spell, and was the property of her husband" (Woolf 43-44). 

This passage from Woolf's A Room of One's Own and the examples she gave from novels such as Pride and Prejudice (one of my all-time favorities) and Jane Eyre (another good one) made me realize the struggles of the female writer throughout history even more, and of the female character. Being an aspiring writer myself, I wonder how writers such as Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte went against their times, and the fights they fought to get their works read, and later published. Even to write such works was an endeavor for these women, which makes their achievements even more remarkable. If I couldn't write, I'm not sure what I would do sometimes. For me, writing is my escape-my portal to another realm almost when I'm having a bad day, or need to sort my thoughts. Writing is how I can openly express my thoughts and know that most often, they'll come out a little less scattered than they are in my head. Putting words on paper, or typing onto a screen lets me figure out my emotions, my most random ideas become organized, and world seems to right itself. Its like an artist taking their first strokes on a blank canvas: they may have an image in their head, but sometimes it takes time and patience for it to make it onto the space. Even as I write now I can notice areas of this blog post I'd go back and edit, but since this is the "blogging world" I'm going to let my thoughts roam free. 

This passage also made me (once again) realize the differences in the world or reality compared to the world of fiction. The woman in literature is often celebrated, cared for, worried over, etc. But in history, the woman was often in the background, an afterthought almost to the lists of men who fill our history books. This is a tragedy almost, but a victory for the women who do manage to "interrupt" the lists and lists of men and have their name among them. For example, Queen Elizabeth I. She ruled without a king, against many who wanted her dead, and in a time when women were thought unfit to rule. Her own father didn't want her alive, holding out through his numerous wives for a son, who ended up dying young. But she managed to advance her kingdom and country in ways her predecessors had been unable to, and is still studied today for ruling in a time of such change, growth, and conflict. Like her, Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte fought against society to deliver the heroines Woolf talks about, the Elizabeth Bennett's and Jane Eyre's of the world who can inspire us all. Women and writing have always been a powerful pair, and when they are able to come out of the darkness of absence, the domination inside shines through.

My Writing Metaphor

Writing for me is like teaching the five-to-eight-year-old kids I coach on my pool’s summer swim team how to swim breaststroke.  A few kids have the natural talent to be able to do the “in, out, and around” movement that goes along with bending their knees and awkwardly pointing their feet at an outward angle; other kids try over and over, going through the motions in the pool, while sitting down on the deck, and even with me attempting to move their legs for them, but still never quite catch on. In the end, I know I can get most of them to have, at least, a legal stroke, but it takes time, patience, and more often than not, a lot of tries.

Teaching breaststroke seems almost instinctive to me; as a kid, I was a natural at it.  In junior year of high school, oddly enough the same time when my swimming career ended due to becoming sick, I realized my inherent talent for writing. Just as swimming breaststroke came easy to me, the more I wrote, the more I realized writing did as well.  My English teacher that year commented on this to me one day as I received my third ‘A’ in a row on one of his papers. He told me that he tried, but couldn’t find a reason to give me a grade any lower. He also recommended I apply to be in one of the two advanced English courses offered senior year, AP English and Creative Writing. I took the Creative Writing course senior year, where my love of the “craft” only grew.

Writing may be a natural gift of mine, but that doesn’t always mean it comes easy. Often, my final products, like most writers, come after many attempts and many drafts. I never like what I first put onto paper or type out. Mostly, the work I hand in has been worked and reworked. And then worked again. Dillard spoke about how the image in her mind never actually makes it onto the page. It is warped and changed to the point it is barely recognizable. I think this happens with many writers, and is part of the overall process. At least I know I’m not alone in that respect. But as I coach my kids into swimming breaststroke, I can coach a good, or at least respectable, piece of writing onto a page.