After I read Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates to the writer’s group last week, it struck me how much of my recent fiction work has been grappling with the subject of sexism.
Chocolates started out as a story about what happens when Hope gets out of Pandora’s box at last. Now it’s a story in which Pandora’s box releases a wave of stupid macho behavior across a small Florida town (Destin, where I used to work, but with the serial numbers filed off).
Bleeding Blue deals with misogyny and sexism in policing.
Only the Lonely Can Slay starts with a woman paying an assassin five bucks to kill the woman’s abusive husband (the assassin’s cut rate is her equivalent of pro bono legal work).
Impossible Takes a Little Longer, if I ever get back to rewriting it, will have a misogynist/incel-ish villain (or so it looks now).
My as yet untitled tarot in Hollywood story may deal partly with the Patricia Douglas rape case (again with the serial numbers filed off).
Am I just responding to the male supremacy rallying behind Trump? Or is it that writing Undead Sexist Cliches has set my mind in this groove?
Either way I don’t think it’s hurting the story so I shall let my mind rove as it will.
#SFWApro. Image by Caroline Marsh, all rights remain with current holder.
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