women writers

Did you know that the Bronte sisters, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne, wrote and published a book of poetry that sold only two copies? Though well reviewed, the book flopped. Even when they did achieve literary success, it came under male pseudonyms, and reviews after they were outed as females took a nosedive.

Yet Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre remain two of the greatest and best-loved novels in history.

The Bronte sisters wrote together, and we can imagine them bouncing their ideas off of one another, but they also wrote wildly. Their stories were too “improper” to be written by women. Yet they couldn’t help themselves. In their regular walks along the Yorkshire moors, strolling through thigh-high fields of heather, they captured the passion and raw fury of winds and rain and exposure, stamping unforgettable settings and emotion in their work. They wrote true to their natures, and their boldness has kept their novels in the public ever since.

Recently I had the great privilege to walk the moors the Bronte sisters once did. I visited the home where they made history, looking at their tiny clothes (including Charlotte’s wedding bonnet) and pondering their lives. Of course, I came home with a stack of books to learn more about them. As always, it helped me as a writer to literally walk their path. A hike to Top Withens, said to be the inspiration for Wuthering Heights, brought the stories more deeply into my bones.

I don’t pretend to even come close to the skill of these authors. I do know, though, as I walk along the moors, absorbing the life and strength they emanate, I am adding to the files of my imagination. The Bronte ghosts tell me they, too, were merely human, and struggled to balance their unusual writing styles with the marketplace of the time. Their struggles are different, but we understand each other. I return to my own work renewed and inspired to continue.

It sounds ironic, but I started to read Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’s Stop Talking by Susan Cain in order to feel less alone. For all you outgoing people out there, we Innies do like people — we just prefer solitude or one-to-one contact to large groups. I haven’t yet finished it, but I’m already excited enough to share it!

I’ve been quiet my whole life. My kindergarten teacher described me in a report card as “withdrawn.” I’m not sure we saw this as a negative — to my parents’ credit, I never felt that way, at least. The teacher wanted me to join in with the class, but noted that I preferred to play alone. As a writer, I continue to crave solitude, and I tend to “disappear” in big gatherings.

We are often given the message that the lone wolf is synonymous with guys like the Unabomber — not a self-esteem builder. At times, people misinterpret my quiet nature as being arrogant or stuck-up. When I have nothing to say, I just keep my mouth shut! By the same token, when I do talk, I expect people to pay attention because I don’t like to waste words.

Cain notes, however, that those of us who are quiet often prefer, as I do, to express ourselves in writing. We may be far more willing to disclose deeply personal information online that we would never talk about in person. Check and check!

As I read this book, I am part of an online writing group called Blooming Late on She Writes. I’ve mentioned the group here before in other contexts, but as a refresher, we’re a group of over-40 women who are dedicating ourselves to writing. We’re a lively bunch, and I am constantly inspired and engaged by these fine writers. I’ve been lucky enough to read some of their books (I’m still going down the list) and am excited by the overall high quality of the work.

We’re working on a promotional project. We’re looking at ways as a group that we can get the word out about our writing to build readership of our blogs and books.

What does this have to do with Cain’s book? What I’m finding is that group collaboration works well online, and Cain agrees. We’re still feeling our way through this project, but the combination of bouncing ideas off of one another — and then retreating to time alone to reflect on them — is producing some exciting results. While we’re in the infancy of the project, I’m seeing tremendous potential for our group that I doubt would happen if we were all in a room together.

As writing and publishing has changed, I have often wondered if I have become obsolete. What Cain’s book reminds me, though, is that in this strange new world behind a computer, I may have an advantage. I can embrace my quiet nature with pride. More and more, I find myself connecting with people online and doing the networking I could never do well in person. Hubby and I have both met people in person as a result of some of these connections, and that’s exciting, too!

Cain suggests that companies are now starting to understand that some of us work better if we have quiet spaces to retreat to. We don’t all work well as a big gang in a room, constantly surrounded by people. She cites Steve Wozniak of Apple as an example, and I think that many of our computer experts are leading the way in demonstrating that true innovation is often made alone, and not by committee.

If you have been “made wrong” for being quiet, or if you have an introvert in your life whom you struggle to understand, you’ll enjoy this book.

Walking the Moors – Thoughts on Bronte Country

A Book for Us Quiet Ones!