Today I got in an argument with a male friend over whether I should present as male when looking for readers to check the accuracy of my space novel. Some background: the book I’m working on is a science fiction story with four main characters, two of whom are physicists, three of whom are astronauts, and one of whom is a former fighter pilot. Here’s a transcript of my first conversation about the novel with my mother:

Me: I’m totally excited about this idea. One of my characters is an astronaut who used to be a fighter pi-

Mom: Oh, what do you know about fighter pilots? You don’t know anything about fighter pilots!

Here’s a transcript of my first conversation about the novel with my father:

Me: My new project is about astronauts.

Dad: A subject that you know… so much about.

And my second conversation:

Me: I’m reading physics blogs because two of my characters are physicists.

Dad (perhaps having forgotten the first conversation): Which you know… so much about.

You get the idea.

Now since it would be ridiculous to suggest that only fighter pilots, physicists, and astronauts can write stories about fighter pilots, physicists, and astronauts, we can assume that this isn’t the reason my parents were so dismissive; I think any reasonable person would agree that a writer can write about any subject on earth with enough research. (Does Richard Powers have a brother with a brain injury? Did Ian McEwan fight in World War II? Nuh-uh.) So why the negative reaction? Well, I’m sure everyone has already figured it out, but in case anyone out there is a little slow, just imagine how bizarre and condescending those two conversations would sound if I was a man. That’s right - CAPTAIN SEXISM STRIKES AGAIN!

Yes, we still live in a culture that believes that women are incapable of understanding traditionally masculine endeavors like science, spaceflight, and the military. Why, even the White House spokesperson claims that “men just by osmosis understand all these things [military jargon], and they’re things that I really have to work at.”

Now, combine this with the fact that manuscripts by female writers don’t get fair reads (from mslexia.com: “In a now-famous experiment by Philip Goldberg in the Seventies, manuscripts by John T McKay were consistently judged as cleverer, better, superior in every way to identical manuscripts by Joan T McKay”*) and you’ll see why I’m in a double bind. Not only am I working in a field that’s generally biased against me, I’m writing about subject matter that most people think, consciously or not, I’m unable to grasp. A book by a woman is bad enough, but a book by a woman about a fighter pilot? What a joke!

Today I was working on a scene in which one of the astronauts begins his training in a jet (a futuristic incarnation of the T-38 Talon). I realized that at some point I’m going to have to find someone to help me make sure I have all the little details right. But I could just imagine someone’s reaction to a woman requesting information about in-flight procedures and military life.

So, I wondered if it might make sense to put a male name on the emails and manuscript. I’d be honest if I was asked, of course. But… you know… I’d just go by the male version of my name.

Obviously there are other less drastic possibilities. I could seek out female readers (probably doable in the field of physics; maybe not as easy in NASA and the US armed forces). I could send out feelers to people who seem like they wouldn’t be overtly misogynist (although the bias would still be there). But I really hate the thought of crippling myself before the manuscript even finds a publisher. I hate the thought of being given substandard feedback that could hurt the novel’s already slim chances at a publisher, reviewer attention, and reader interest. I hate the thought of not being able to find any feedback at all.

But when I told my friend what I was thinking, his rejection was immediate and firm: Don’t do it. It’s deception.

So what the fuck do I do, people? If I comply with the system, my book won’t be taken seriously and my career will suffer. If I subvert it, then I’m a dirty liar and it can backfire. I’m not allowed to be a woman and I’m not allowed to be a man. I reach for those bootstraps, but it turns out I have to break a glass case and set off an alarm to get at them.

Some of you might remember that I put the project on hiatus a few months ago. I think part of the reason I got such horrendous writer’s block was because the stress of writing about forbidden subjects finally got the better of me. After doubting my ability and hearing others echo those doubts - not to mention dealing with all the normal issues involved in writing fiction - I gave in to the idea that I just couldn’t do something like this. That I’m just not qualified to attempt it.

I’m about sixty pages into this sucker and I imagine I’ve got about four hundred to go. (Oh, yeah - it’s going to be long, too. Another type of novel that women aren’t allowed to write.) I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to make it there. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know where my support is going to come from.

In other news, my agent sent out the second round today. Obviously keeping the first one a secret didn’t prevent a jinx, so I’ll go ahead and try announcing this one to the world. Seventeen publishers, including the one I used to intern for. Please, god, let someone accept my novel. Please let someone accept my novel. Please, please, please, let someone accept my novel. Please, god, please. Oh make me happy.

* One could argue that a lot has changed since the seventies; however, if you look at publishing and reviewing trends from the late nineties, you’ll see that not a whole lot of progress has been made.

EDIT: Usually I leave readers to figure out for themselves what my titles are referencing, but in this case, I’ve just found out that this post is coming up on Google before the short story it’s based on. So, the title comes from Kevin Brockmeier’s excellent new short story collection, The View From the Seventh Layer.