This is kind of a two-pronged blog, but both prongs are pointing in the same direction...
I’m a guy. Always have been. Have no intention of switching. So anything I say or do is filtered through the nipple-deep pool of testosterone in which I swim every day. This point may seem like a non-sequitur, but it becomes relevant later.
Now, the first prong of this blog involves a little activity that guys often do when they’re about, say, 15, and then stop doing once they begin having sex. That’s right...telling each other sex stories.
I remember on more than one occasion, sleeping over at a mate’s place, two of us, three, four...whatever. You hit the hay, but you’re not ready to sleep, because all that each of you can think about is that potent and unknowable deliciousness that is the female form. Alright, so it’s not unknowable, but at 15, for my friends and me, it felt that way. So we would lay in the dark and describe what it would be like to “do” our favourite girl from school.
Looking back, of course, it was ludicrous. The only parts I remember were along the lines of “...and as I stick it into her, I feel that thing...what’s it called? Oh, yeah, the...uh...hire man...I feel it break and she moans and begs me for more...” Basically, Penthouse Forum, as written by chimps.
Prong two involves a discussion I had on Saturday night at the Roller Derby. I was chatting with a fellow who has a low level education, but a high IQ. On top of that he’s vastly well-read and has opinions which I respect. He put forward a theory that, in general, women don’t write violence well.
I told him I’m not really in a position to agree or disagree. I read a lot of female authors, but not generally in a field which involves true violence (just the whips and chains, emotional torture kind). It was suggested that because physical action, explosive action (which can, obviously, include violence) is so hard-wired into the masculine sense of being, we understand its use far better than females. Further, it was suggested that, in the hands of women, violence becomes cartoonish. Grotesque. He listed a couple of female authors who he had stopped reading for this reason.
Which brings me to the stage where both prongs run parallel.
We were young man-children, and the pool of testosterone was way over our heads. We knew how the parts worked. At least, we knew how OUR parts worked...we’d been working them every chance we got for a year or more. We knew that Tab A went into Slot B (but precious little else). But we were talking utter crap. We had no idea what it was going to be like. We’d only ever read about it. If the other theory has any merit, then it would seem that both examples are cases of people, effectively, “writing what they don’t know”.
Again, I’m a guy (please see paragraph two above), and also I make no assertion that my friend’s theory is or is not correct. I put it forward here because I would love to get some feedback from women, and especially from women who write.
Do women write violence well? If not, what is it that women write better than men? Or is there just no real difference?