I read this essay about beloved writer Ellen Bass here on The Rumpus—a terrific essay by Ellen F. Brown—with some dismay. Because, here was a writer I admire (and have admired since twenty years ago), a writer who had appeared on Oprah, and she was described later in life in her major coup as an older writer as “having disappeared.” On a national radio show. Talking about her poem in the freaking New Yorker.
So, if Ellen Bass, terrific poet and major feminist rabble-rouser in the 70s, can disappear, can it happen to us? Is in inevitable, or is there something we can do about it?
There’s a certain amount of press given to younger women writers at their debut, especially if they’re charismatic and attractive. I think Ellen caught a wave of good publicity due to her passionate politics during a time when “feminism” was just starting to be part of the public’s vocabulary. As an undergrad reading poetry anthologies in the nineties, I just loved the No More Masks! anthology, and later, in my twenties, found her writings on adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse very helpful in my personal life. There was never a time in my adult life I didn’t know who Ellen Bass was.
But getting attention for women writers in mid-life or late-life? They tend to “disappear”—even if they never stop writing, attending conferences, holding workshops, giving readings. They just don’t get—here’s the word—the publicity. Some of this is structural—sexism is at least as big a problem in the literary arts as in every other part of society. The work done on highlighting the disparity in publishing between men and women by groups like VIDA illustrate this powerfully. No matter how unfair this is, the effect is still there. They don’t look as pretty, as fresh, as hopeful in their headshots—and the punishment is maybe having a prominent male writer talk about you in a radio piece, praising your work, saying “Where the hell have you gone?” or worse, having no one talk about your work at all.
In the essay, Brown describes Ellen Bass as having stopped writing and submitting poetry for some years mid-life, while running numerous workshops for abuse survivors and others. That must have been very draining but rewarding work—and since I myself took a twelve-year break from writing to earn a living in the tech sector, I understand how these things happen. But the story of her search for mentorship was particularly disturbing. At a time when she had clearly lost confidence in her writing and in her place in the poetry world, how hard was it for her to find someone just to read and give feedback on her manuscript—not for a first book, but a fourth or fifth book! Over twenty years away from her last graduate student day working with Anne Sexton, when she reached out to others to help, they simply said no. Dorianne Laux, being the generous, compassionate poet that she is (she was one of my own mentors while I was at Pacific University as an MFA student) is described as having helped Ellen out—and I didn’t know it, but it was around the same time she was mentoring me! In my last semester at Pacific University’s MFA program in 2006, Ellen Bass visited, and I was just starstruck to have met her—not realizing the struggles she had been going through with her own art.
So, how can the mid-life woman writer attempt not to disappear right before the eyes of prominent male writers, king-makers, editors, judges and juries of prizes and grants? How do we stay seen and heard when perhaps our youthful charms may be diminishing but our art may be improving?
This essay made me think about how much I admired Ellen Bass, but never thought to seek her out, write her a letter, or otherwise let her know about my admiration. I bought her books, yes, but never reviewed them. I think we can all get caught in the trap of worrying about our own writing and our own mentorship and our own career trajectories and not stopping to think about helping others.
This is one reason I’m writing a PR for Poets book for Two Sylvias Press, though I don’t necessarily love writing non-fiction guidebooks and struggle with both the feelings of “not being good enough” to write the book and the feeling that some poets may think I’ve sold out or represent less than ideal things about the poetry world. It’s because I worry that too many writers—particularly women writers, young, mid-life, or older—don’t know or think about the promotion of their own work or the promotion of the work of those they admire. This neglect of women—to promote themselves—may represent the different public lives of Walt Whitman—the ultimate American self-promoter, writing his own book reviews under false names, etc.—and Emily Dickinson, who struggled to get even one of her terrific poems published, abashed by criticism from male mentors while she was alive. Is it wrong of women to wish to have a better public career as a writer, to wish to be, for example, paid for readings, or to have great book sales, or to get published in x or y coveted journal, say, the New York Times? I celebrate with Ellen when her poems are lauded—but think it is such a shame that it took so long for her to be publicly acknowledged after a very promising beginning to her career.
To refuse to disappear at mid-life—I am forty-two as of the writing of this essay—is perhaps the best rebellion a woman poet can make to the literary world and to the world at large. I worry about my natural tendencies to try not to make too much trouble, too much of a fuss. “Oh, I don’t want to bother you, but could you please… blurb my book? Review something I wrote? Publish me in your magazine?”
Go out and make some noise, not only for yourself and your own writing, but on behalf of other women writers. Splash out and mentor someone, review other writers you admire, start a press, work as an editor at a literary magazine. Make yourself un-ignorable. If you and your friends don’t champion each other’s work, if you don’t insist on making yourselves and each other heard, then there’s the possibility that you too will become a disappearing act.
11 responses
Good piece, but I’m going on 66 and never “appeared.” I never really stopped writing, but it wasn’t always as easy to submit or participate in a literary scene as it is now. When I was in my early 40s, the Internet as we know it now barely existed. And I had to work (also in tech) and I was a mother. I’m not making excuses, but I guess I don’t want to be judged for not doing enough.
I was violently attacked in two reviews this year — by men. But I don’t think it was because of my age. Honestly, I don’t understand this complaint. Sure debut writers sell, but I have felt nothing but more power and more respect (from others) as I have grown older. AND I expect this to continue. Look at the big female writers: Nadine Gordimer, Didion, Sontag, Oates, Atwood, Ferrante, Diane Williams, Amy Hempel, Lydia Davis. None of these women are complaining that they are not ingenues. Honestly, I feel like women should just get on with their work and stop looking in the mirror!! This perpetuates women as second class citizens. Respectfully, Louise
To some extent, this is true. Google the top 100 writers in New York, for example.Almost all the women mentioned are young, and beautiful. Don’t forget beautiful, whether ethereal or sexy. Always one or the other. And always thin. Fat, ugly women don’t become raging literary successes, not in this country or era.
Terrific and too damn true essay, Jeannine Hall Gailey…it happens day after day, year after year, to you, to me, to too many of us…and we are still here, but in shadow, and then…and then…And then I remember, while thinking about how we try to hold on to life, and to our words and talent and passion…to hold onto the globe itself… I remember how even a depressive macho male could nail it right (sometimes) : “If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.†(― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms)
I am Susy Kuttel, the author of “Bella e Intelligente”, two books with my life story, editor Albatros il Filo, who never helped me publishing. The books are written in Italian and I would like to see them also translated into English for the U.S. First book was honouraby mentioned by Assoc.Unicamilano, Premio Culturale Nazionale, “Emilio de Marchi -I ponti del Naviglio”. Here in Italy, it is very difficult for a woman who does not have a famous name to be recognized. It is really a struggle. If my name was Sophia Loren, the book suddenly would have been accepted by an editor, although my life stories are for sure more interesting than the ones of Sophia. I always have been alone, struggling and working hard with many companies and no husband helped me to get famous. If you click “recensionilibri.org” click sito “Susy Kuttel” you will see more. Once I even stood-in in a movie, called “With Love Sophia” and when a journalist of Wolper Prod. wante to publish a photo of mine, he did not get the permission. This is the way a woman gets treated. And this was in 1968. My books are visible in Amazon.com and are very interesting and all I went through is true. I would like to find a company which helps me in transation and another editor, as I do not want to prolong the contract with Albatros il Filo. Can one give me good advice.
Thank you so much for this piece. I read the interview with Ellen Bass and was also very affected. Her directness about still needing mentoring and the challenges of midlife writing were so honest and real. I’m with you all the way about not turning away, but there needs to be so much more than self-will at work to keep propelling forward. Chances are good if a woman has kids, she’s shouldering more childcare at midlife than her partner, and with the economic realities of low to no income generated from doing the kinds of things that cultivate notice — book reviews, interviews, readings traveled to at the author’s expense – this also factors in. Many women are just stepping into a literary career at midlife and the odds stack terribly for all the reasons you mention. I think of my own (female) mentor once saying poignantly, “How did I lose my fame?” She didn’t want to be ignored, but the rubric of fame no longer valued what she had to offer.
I love this piece, and I love my fellow woman writers. I do try to be supportive, and as I was lucky enough to have all my shame surgically removed, I also ask for support back. Asking for payment is also such a useful skill to acquire. I didn’t know that Ellen Bass had such strugglers, but I do know renowned Brit poets who are more or less ignored by the poetry establishment, including the mighty Fiona Pitt-kethley.It’s very sad, and something to fight.
Great essay, Jeannine. I like that you not only comment on the problem but issue a call–for you, and for all of us–to redress the problem, to do the mentoring, reviewing, supporting of books we love that aren’t getting enough attention. Well done.
I totally admire Ellen Bass. Here’s why: She wrote and published in the New Yorker the poem, “When You Return.” I wrote her and told her that this poem was most likely the most important and relevant poem in this century. And, personally, I didn’t start writing poetry until I was 62 years old! I completely reinvented myself. My fourth poetry book comes out this month. I teach workshops, a poetry course for UVA’s OLLI program, write a regular column for Southern Writers magazine, have lucked into have my poems published. How I would love to meet Ellen Bass and Dorianne Laux.
This is a really good piece. I think of all the writers who disappear or find their work unwelcome at the presses that have generally taken them seriously. Smaller presses, then even smaller. Less PR. Newspapers unwilling to assign their books to reviewers when there are so many “new” books. And it makes me want to hunt out those books and celebrate them. And take the time to write to their authors. Is it enough? No. But it’s a start.
“Make yourself unignorable.” Good advice. Met Ellen at AWP. What a gracious woman. She looked me in the eye.
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