Hello all! Thanks to all who participated in our vibrant Meet and Greet discussion thread! You shared so many great reads by or about audacious women. My TBR list has mushroomed as a result. :) It’s not too late to join in, if you’d like. In fact, I think I’ll keep it open so as new members join, they can introduce themselves there as well. In the spirit of my last post, “Simone de Beauvoir and the Courage Women Writers Need,” I thought it would be fun to share some of our bold choices and desires here.
I love this later picture of Beauvoir. Doesn’t she look like she doesn’t give a f** anymore?
What move have you made in your life that felt bold or audacious, something that pushed beyond the boundaries of what seemed acceptable or expected or you? And/or what bold or audacious thing have you been wanting to do, and what has held you back so far? Imagine what it would feel like to articulate that desire and to share it with a supportive group! (And feel free to tell us where you’re writing from, so we can continue to get to know each other.)
Please also take a couple of minutes to read other responses and find at least two that speak to you or that you want to cheer on. I look forward to seeing you in the comments! (And I’ll get us started with my own response that question.)
My name is Stacy, and I am a historian by trade. I spent my 20s, 30s, and much of my 40s traveling about the world (well, Africa and Europe at least), and my bold move is to be okay with settling down in my 50s. I'm tired! I am working--with Anne as my developmental editor--on a book about Edith Wharton's engagement with a region that I am, for now, referring to as a vague Islamic East. The Greater Ottoman Sphere might also be useful in terms of thinking about the region. Hilary A. Hallett's recent book on Elinor Glyn, inventor of the It Girl, was an inspiring read. I remember my grandmother talking about Clara Bow's It Girl, and it was fun to see how that audacious female character came to be.
Anne's bold steps remind me of one I made when I was working. I was so miserable I was crying and decided I had to resign. Many good opportunities opened to me then and I was able to do many writing, editing, and management jobs that wouldn't come my way otherwise. My favorite was filling in for the manager of marketing for a national company while the person was on maternity leave. You can't see the beauty until you make the decision to leave the pain.
Hello, this is such a wonderful thread with so many encouraging and fantastic comments. Thank you Anne for creating this kind of space. I suppose I have made a kind of habit of doing whatever the next thing is that felt right as Anne said earlier. So I’ve moved a lot; I’ve left the conservative religious tradition that took up the first 35 years or so of my life; I’ve broken off relationships (as an absolute but necessary last resort) with family members who could not acknowledge passed abuse; I’ve done the work it takes (lots of courage) to heal from complex trauma; I left a graduate program in English Literature because it did not seem like a good fit, even with all the work I had already put in; I started writing consistently at 50, having wanted to do so most of my life (hence my newsletter); I’ve also started and maintain a couple of very small (as in just me) businesses. I would love to write a book someday. I would also love to travel more. Writing this list kind of surprised me. I have made choices over and over that aren’t comfortable but have also freed me and given me a self. The list gives me courage and reminds me that I can do other scary or difficult things. This group also is an incredible boost!
I want to commit to a writing practice and write in more genres than the traditional scholarship that I've published. Ideally, I'd like to write about music, and write fiction. I have a couple of publishing possibilities for writing about music--I'm feeling equal parts excitement and complete reluctance to try writing about something that I care about so much.
I've done a lot things that were bold and audacious - to me. They maybe weren't bold or audacious to others, but they took me from a place of comfort and put me in the middle of uncertainty. A lot of them had to do with moving - to different states, out of relationships that weren't working, into jobs that would demand more of me... I've never regretted doing a single one of them. Somehow, they were meant to be. I more so regret things I didn't do... see my response to Etta for one such exampe - staying too long.
A bold thing I've been hesitating to do (remember, this would be bold for me, maybe not to someone else) is to start a newsletter. What frightens me is the commitment it requires. Time writing newsletters (and engaging through social media) is time not spent writing novels, which is the true creative work I seek. But a newsletter appeals to me for the engagement it can create with others while I do the creative work of writing a novel. Writing is lonely, and engagement, I have found, feeds my creative side.
I've been thinking about Substack, and I have a topic/schtick, etc., but I wonder if I can sustain it or if anyone else will be interested in what I am passionate about writing. Time will tell. Let's just say it's the muck I'm wading through right now. Anne's posts are such an inspiration to me, as are others I've started to follow on Substack or on other platforms. The amount of creative thought and reflection out there is mind-boggling. Thank goodness!
My audacious moves are a lot like Etta’s. We even got PhD’s from the same university, though I’m many years older. Not many women in my high school class went to college, but I did and I knew no one going to the same university. I met my husband of 54 years there and he was wonderful about watching the kids while I went off to conferences to build my scholarly life. Like Anne, I always wanted to write a novel. Nine novels later, I can’t say I’m a best seller or that I’ve written the splendid novel I want to write. But I’m making my next bold move and traveling to a writer’s conference instead of an academic one.
What is bold and audacious? Depends on circumstances, I think. My husband died almost four years ago. I’ve realized that I never before have lived alone. The little things give me a sense of triumph. Changing a light bulb high on the ceiling. Putting window washer fluid into my car. Driving through the car wash—they creep me out. Driving the steep, curvy hills to go hiking and the highway with crazy trucks to visit a friend. The biggest triumph—renting a car and learning to pump gas (in Oregon where I live, we’ve only started to allow gas pumping). It doesn’t sound like much—certainly not like Anne’s enormous life choice. True confession: I’m 80 years old. I can still drive, can still ride a bike, can still hike and cross country ski on those hills, and, yes, can still write. Novel #10 is with my publisher and novel #11 is in progress. Boldness might be small, but it’s still bold.
Hi, everyone, and Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone who celebrates!! I grew up in a very traditional Scotch-Irish family in the US south--conversative Protestants, I will add. That matters to this post--because I was fully, fully enculturated to put "man's" wishes and dreams first--whether father, husband, minister, teacher, coach, etc. Anyway, I've been married a long time (38.5 years now, but who's counting???) to a patient, kind, loving man. Throughout our marriage, I've taken many professional steps (as a literature professor) that sort of ignore his professional dreams and goals (he doesn't talk about those much). I took my first position halfway across the country from where he had been working for a decade, I've traveled far and frequently--to conferences, to teach abroad, etc--leaving him in charge of our two sons. My professional moves might not be considered bold to many people--but they shocked my parents and, sometimes, even myself. I know I have friends who say such decisions (by either spouse) would not work in their marriages.
Now, our sons are adults, I've left teaching, and I'm open to what's next. My husband is nowhere near ready to to "retire" from his profession. I'm trying to remain patient as I figure out what the next open door will be -- or what doors--plural--I want to see before me. I guess I need advice on how to keep alive the passion and energy I've had in the past as I move through this foggy phase. Advice?
Something that felt particularly bold and audacious to me was giving up tenure. I had wanted for years to find a saner career that allowed me to be more creative, but I was terribly afraid to make the leap. During the pandemic, though, my fears melted away in the face of stress-induced illness and burnout. I've heard before that when we don't make the changes we need to in our lives, our bodies will force us to change. That is what it took for me to finally cut myself loose.
Something that I'm dreaming of doing but that feels pretty audacious is write a novel. What a risk that is! The endless hours and hard work could turn out to be for nothing. So many novels are never published. If I'm being honest, though, what is truly audacious about this is that I want to write something important, something that pushes against what is expected from a novel. Do I have the courage to do that? I'm not sure yet. But Simone makes me want to try.
My name is Stacy, and I am a historian by trade. I spent my 20s, 30s, and much of my 40s traveling about the world (well, Africa and Europe at least), and my bold move is to be okay with settling down in my 50s. I'm tired! I am working--with Anne as my developmental editor--on a book about Edith Wharton's engagement with a region that I am, for now, referring to as a vague Islamic East. The Greater Ottoman Sphere might also be useful in terms of thinking about the region. Hilary A. Hallett's recent book on Elinor Glyn, inventor of the It Girl, was an inspiring read. I remember my grandmother talking about Clara Bow's It Girl, and it was fun to see how that audacious female character came to be.
Anne's bold steps remind me of one I made when I was working. I was so miserable I was crying and decided I had to resign. Many good opportunities opened to me then and I was able to do many writing, editing, and management jobs that wouldn't come my way otherwise. My favorite was filling in for the manager of marketing for a national company while the person was on maternity leave. You can't see the beauty until you make the decision to leave the pain.
Hello, this is such a wonderful thread with so many encouraging and fantastic comments. Thank you Anne for creating this kind of space. I suppose I have made a kind of habit of doing whatever the next thing is that felt right as Anne said earlier. So I’ve moved a lot; I’ve left the conservative religious tradition that took up the first 35 years or so of my life; I’ve broken off relationships (as an absolute but necessary last resort) with family members who could not acknowledge passed abuse; I’ve done the work it takes (lots of courage) to heal from complex trauma; I left a graduate program in English Literature because it did not seem like a good fit, even with all the work I had already put in; I started writing consistently at 50, having wanted to do so most of my life (hence my newsletter); I’ve also started and maintain a couple of very small (as in just me) businesses. I would love to write a book someday. I would also love to travel more. Writing this list kind of surprised me. I have made choices over and over that aren’t comfortable but have also freed me and given me a self. The list gives me courage and reminds me that I can do other scary or difficult things. This group also is an incredible boost!
I want to commit to a writing practice and write in more genres than the traditional scholarship that I've published. Ideally, I'd like to write about music, and write fiction. I have a couple of publishing possibilities for writing about music--I'm feeling equal parts excitement and complete reluctance to try writing about something that I care about so much.
I've done a lot things that were bold and audacious - to me. They maybe weren't bold or audacious to others, but they took me from a place of comfort and put me in the middle of uncertainty. A lot of them had to do with moving - to different states, out of relationships that weren't working, into jobs that would demand more of me... I've never regretted doing a single one of them. Somehow, they were meant to be. I more so regret things I didn't do... see my response to Etta for one such exampe - staying too long.
A bold thing I've been hesitating to do (remember, this would be bold for me, maybe not to someone else) is to start a newsletter. What frightens me is the commitment it requires. Time writing newsletters (and engaging through social media) is time not spent writing novels, which is the true creative work I seek. But a newsletter appeals to me for the engagement it can create with others while I do the creative work of writing a novel. Writing is lonely, and engagement, I have found, feeds my creative side.
I've been thinking about Substack, and I have a topic/schtick, etc., but I wonder if I can sustain it or if anyone else will be interested in what I am passionate about writing. Time will tell. Let's just say it's the muck I'm wading through right now. Anne's posts are such an inspiration to me, as are others I've started to follow on Substack or on other platforms. The amount of creative thought and reflection out there is mind-boggling. Thank goodness!
My audacious moves are a lot like Etta’s. We even got PhD’s from the same university, though I’m many years older. Not many women in my high school class went to college, but I did and I knew no one going to the same university. I met my husband of 54 years there and he was wonderful about watching the kids while I went off to conferences to build my scholarly life. Like Anne, I always wanted to write a novel. Nine novels later, I can’t say I’m a best seller or that I’ve written the splendid novel I want to write. But I’m making my next bold move and traveling to a writer’s conference instead of an academic one.
What is bold and audacious? Depends on circumstances, I think. My husband died almost four years ago. I’ve realized that I never before have lived alone. The little things give me a sense of triumph. Changing a light bulb high on the ceiling. Putting window washer fluid into my car. Driving through the car wash—they creep me out. Driving the steep, curvy hills to go hiking and the highway with crazy trucks to visit a friend. The biggest triumph—renting a car and learning to pump gas (in Oregon where I live, we’ve only started to allow gas pumping). It doesn’t sound like much—certainly not like Anne’s enormous life choice. True confession: I’m 80 years old. I can still drive, can still ride a bike, can still hike and cross country ski on those hills, and, yes, can still write. Novel #10 is with my publisher and novel #11 is in progress. Boldness might be small, but it’s still bold.
Hi, everyone, and Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone who celebrates!! I grew up in a very traditional Scotch-Irish family in the US south--conversative Protestants, I will add. That matters to this post--because I was fully, fully enculturated to put "man's" wishes and dreams first--whether father, husband, minister, teacher, coach, etc. Anyway, I've been married a long time (38.5 years now, but who's counting???) to a patient, kind, loving man. Throughout our marriage, I've taken many professional steps (as a literature professor) that sort of ignore his professional dreams and goals (he doesn't talk about those much). I took my first position halfway across the country from where he had been working for a decade, I've traveled far and frequently--to conferences, to teach abroad, etc--leaving him in charge of our two sons. My professional moves might not be considered bold to many people--but they shocked my parents and, sometimes, even myself. I know I have friends who say such decisions (by either spouse) would not work in their marriages.
Now, our sons are adults, I've left teaching, and I'm open to what's next. My husband is nowhere near ready to to "retire" from his profession. I'm trying to remain patient as I figure out what the next open door will be -- or what doors--plural--I want to see before me. I guess I need advice on how to keep alive the passion and energy I've had in the past as I move through this foggy phase. Advice?
Something that felt particularly bold and audacious to me was giving up tenure. I had wanted for years to find a saner career that allowed me to be more creative, but I was terribly afraid to make the leap. During the pandemic, though, my fears melted away in the face of stress-induced illness and burnout. I've heard before that when we don't make the changes we need to in our lives, our bodies will force us to change. That is what it took for me to finally cut myself loose.
Something that I'm dreaming of doing but that feels pretty audacious is write a novel. What a risk that is! The endless hours and hard work could turn out to be for nothing. So many novels are never published. If I'm being honest, though, what is truly audacious about this is that I want to write something important, something that pushes against what is expected from a novel. Do I have the courage to do that? I'm not sure yet. But Simone makes me want to try.