More Writing Life…

… and then there’s that other issue with writing, and that’s being friends with other writers. I had a writing professor who used to say that he preferred friendships with painters. Because when your painter friend asked you to see his new work, you could spend an hour, and go. But with writer friends, you have to read the whole book, and you have to say something intelligent about it, not just in general, but with some detail, to prove you read it and that you were paying attention at the time.
On top of that, they often have questions: Did that metaphor at the beginning of Chapter 3 work for you? Do you think most people know what Borg means, or do I just know a lot of geeks? Do you think I need to footnote who Dagny Taggart was?*
Annoyances, the lot of ’em.
Thanks to my friends, who for all these years have answered my annoying questions, and read drafts of mss., and second drafts, and then even finals, to see if I made it not suck in the end.
* Coming soon, to a theatre near you.

The Writing Life

When I’ve gotten into a fight with my siblings over money, or sometimes just in casual conversations, someone who has never written a book will mention that they could. Or should. Or would. Or something.
And I always want to say, “I’m sure you could, but you haven’t.” I’m not talking about getting published – that’s business – I’m talking about having an idea for a book and sitting down and writing it.
One of the things a lot of writers will agree with me on (I think) is that so much of writing is about not doing anything. I often joke with Betty that my personality is much better suited to be putting caps on bottles; I’d leave work satisfied every day that I’d done my job. Or maybe overseeing batches of wedding invitations printed and beribboned and mailed. I like projects like that; they’re very satisfying to my anal retentive self.
But writing is so not satisfying. First of all, it looks to most people like you don’t DO anything. Betty, for instance, has learned not to interrupt me when I’m staring at the wall, because it means the writer thing is happening somewhere in the recesses of my brain, and I have to keep still to channel the message, as it were. Or to translate it. Or whatever that process is.
The reason I think most people don’t write books – even when they intend to – is that you don’t feel like you’re doing anything when you’re writing. You feel like you’re talking to yourself, mostly. If you can address the issue of why on earth anyone cares what you think – that is, if you’ve got a big enough ego to just slide right by that one – then the next question is why you’d put so much time into something that people consume so quickly.
I’m not going to divide what I made on MHB for the two years I wrote, reviewed, and promoted it. I’m not. & I’m definitely not going to think about what that ends up in hourly wages.
Which would be the other reason practical types like my brother never sit down & write that book they know they could write.
Right. Back to bottlecaps.

IFGE

I’m not sure I can even express what a good time I had at IFGE this year. It was one of my favorite conferences the first time around, & I’m very glad I got to go back – even if it had to be without Betty.
My first night in, hanging at Players’ bar, I had a tentative older man ask me if I was Ms. Boyd, and then whether or not I would hang around long enough for him to go get books for me to sign. I said yes, of course, and when he came back down he was so full of compliments and thanks I was nearly embarrassed – and he said it all while Meredith Bacon was sitting next to me, catching up. She looks great, very French academic, imho, with her banged bob. Ironically, five minutes later someone else came up to me & told me that the section I wrote about her was “dead wrong” which prompted someone within earshot to say, “so I get the feeling people either love you or hate you,” and I have to admit, that seems awfully true.
I have to thank both Kristine and Alison for organizing such a great conference, and for being so welcoming. Kristine especially has a certain wryness about her when she’s observing a room and its goings-on that I love.
At IFGE, this is the way it goes: you see Richard Docter across the room and want to go say hello, and then you notice Dallas Denny sitting on a couch nearby, and then realize that the two people Dr. Docter is talking to are Nancy Nangeroni and Gordene Mackenzie (the latter of whom won a Virginia Prince award, & who is one of the loveliest people you could hope to meet). For me, it’s just remarkable, and any conversation I have is one I’d otherwise mull over, except they come at you so fast you almost can’t keep up. Two academics (one was Richard Docter) told me students love MHB and really engage with it, which makes me endlessly happy, because I don’t think people should need to read theory to think intensely and creatively about gender.
I met a bunch of people for the first time: the flirtatious (and fearless leader of Trans Veterans), Monica Helms. Dottie Berry, albeit briefly. Gordene Mackenzie, with whom I had one of the best conversations I’ve had in forever, and who was so wonderfully sweet and supportive about my writing and my work. She in turn introduced me to the legendary Phyllis Frye, who has one hell of a sense of humor and this downhome way of talking that charmed my socks off.
I got to meet and chat with Alice Novic, after some misunderstandings between us; I’d only ever met her in guy mode and she is a looker, hands down. (She’s definitely one of those crossdressers who make the whole ‘transsexuals pass and crossdressers don’t’ bullshit, bullshit.) Rachel Goldberg – who is on the board of GenderPac and who came in for a last-minute assist at this year’s Trans Issues Week at Yale for me – smiled & said hi a few times and yes, she’s beautiful, too. (As I mentioned earlier, I was noticing every beautiful dark-haired tranny who walked by, since I was sans Betty and had no idea what to do with my urge to flirt. I always have to be careful, since I think I’d have a taker or two if I weren’t.)
I had a great catch-up with Holly Boswell, who is just – I’m not sure I can explain the aura of sweetness and light that Holly radiates, and her hair, her hair! I’m always envious.
Mara Keisling is Mara Keisling, and she is one of the funniest most charming people ever, and it’s a really good feeling to know she’s on our side! I was envying a suit she wore, too, though she’s sworn she’s going to be femme this year…
Mariette Pathy Allen is ever-present, with camera, flitting, introducing. She’s the one who introduced me to Monica Helms.
I was a panelist for Mona Rae Mason‘s workshop on Defining Our Community, which we did not, in fact, define. I annoyed some people & pleased others with suggesting we maybe get on with things instead of spending another 10 years defining our terms.
I intended to see Sandra Cole and didn’t, pah.
I got to bug numerous people about returning my Five Questions With… interviews, and you all can consider this another reminder!
I got to hang out with Lore, a transman I recently met here in NYC, and met Alan, a 21 year old transman from Berkeley who is on the IFGE board. As Michelle pointed out to me during lunch, I had gathered the butchest table at the luncheon. I’m still processing a lot of my feelings about my own gender, but it’s always a relief for me to be around the FTM set.
My own workshop went well – thanks Lore for the loan of the watch – and I was absolutely tickled that the remarkable Hawk Stone showed up for it – especially because he’s seen me speak before and came back for more! He’s a good nodder, exactly what you want as a speaker to know if you’re making any sense.
Thanks to all the fantastic partners who came, and said hello, and who are trying to make this work – especially the woman who said hello to me after my workshop and who is with her partner post-transition – and that after 30 years of marriage. She said some lovely, reassuring things to me about Betty’s possible transition, along the lines of “I didn’t expect to be able to do this either.”
Mostly I’m just overwhelmed with the humor and grace of the trans community. The flirts, the heavy hearts, the activists, the educators – it’s such a beautiful diversity of people, and that we all get along at all is remarkable. I spoke with an emerging transwoman about her possible transition and her own “Hobson’s Choice” as she dearly loves her wife of 24 years, and was there under the strain of an ultimatum.
It was sad to leave when I had to; I felt like I’d invited a bunch of people to a great party & then once they all got there, I left. More & more people were showing up as the weekend approached, & I’m sure tons more showed up Friday night & into Saturday.
& I haven’t even touched on all the new thoughts I had about my own gender, Betty’s gender, and gender in general. But then I have to get back to writing, so I’ve got a nice jumping off point to do so.

Wolfpit Opened

Last night I got in on a 5:18 train from Philly and went straight to the theatre where Wolfpit was opening. Everybody else was dressed up; I was in traveling clothes (which yesterday meant jeans, button down, sweater, DMs. I was going to go buy a tie at Macy’s to dress it up a little but decided against it when I realized I had my luggage to lug around.)
Donna, Joanne, Caprice and her wife all came, and it was lovely to see all four of them. As Donna has mentioned elsewhere, Betty had a little surprise in store for me, but I can’t tell anyone what it is. It was a very nice surprise for me, that’s for sure. If you do go, let me just say that you’ll see a side of Betty that you’re not expecting to see (and that no one in the trans community has ever seen before, I don’t think).
The irony of course is that I’d just spent three days alone at IFGE with trannies aplenty, and had the bizarre moment of realizing every dark-haired girl who passed by was turning my head – yet another twist in the ongoing unexpectedness that is my life these days. But there are some very beautiful transwomen and crossdressers out there; some days I think for the good of all I should be polygamous.
Anyhoo, more on IFGE when I get around to that, but for now, I just wanted to recommend that anyone locally go see Wolfpit – it’s a bizarre and wonderful and disturbing play, with beautiful language and a really well-chosen cast.

Off to Philly

Well, I’m off to Philly, by myself, without Betty, all by my lonesome.
But really, I’m excited about going.
Okay, I’d be more excited if it didn’t mean sleeping two nights without Betty.
But still, I’m looking forward to being part of Mona Rae Mason’s presentation on Thursday, and of finally doing my ‘trans sex & identity’ workshop on Friday.
See whoever’s going, there!
(No cats, either! How am I going to sleep?!)

Back

We’re back from Meriden, CT, where we had a lovely time at the COS Banquet. Especial thanks to Staci for inviting us back, and to Diana who picked us up/dropped us off at the train station.
I would post the speech I gave except that as usual, I delivered a different talk than I wrote beforehand. I got at the same themes, but I was on cold meds. So I also learned: just read the speech when you’re on cold meds. I’m afraid I came off as far less organized and direct than usual, though I still received some nice compliments. Betty says I didn’t suck, but I didn’t meet my usual standards.
This cold sucks, for the record. But it’s slowly getting better.
Betty got the usual questions about her dosages, and I had my usual night of having some nice one-on-one conversations with people who attended. It’s really the part of being me I enjoy the most, talking with people about their own experiences, stuff they’re having trouble with, or meta conversations about the larger trans community. Still, I left (again) with the impression that COS is a cool organization that gives its members a lot of support; I hope they continue to thrive, and if you’re in the area, I recommend you say hello – even if it’s just for the social outings to dinner, etc.
The other thing I learned is that I love trains. Well I re-learned that, really. My hatred/fear of planes has made me feel very vulnerable, but also very restricted. But there’s Amtrak – and in some ways, this trip reminded me that I can still travel – it might take longer, but I can, without horrible fear and anxiety attacks. Which is, you know, a good thing. Besides, it’s great for writing, and listening to music, and for actually seeing the country you’re travelling through.

Eating, and Drinking, then Talking

Betty and I are off to the Connecticut Outreach Society’s Annual Banquet tonight, where I’ll be giving the post-dinner speech. We’re pleased to be going again, because we really enjoyed ourselves the first time I spoke at this event, in 2004. You’d think they’d have had enough of me by now, but my guess is that they want to know if I’ve gotten any better since then!
We also made the smart move to take the train. I love trains about as much as I hate cars and planes. So it’ll be nice to stare out the window, each of us with our headphones on, and read, and write, and stare out the window.
Our thanks to those at COS for having us again.