Mommy is Going Away for a Week
On leaving my kids to write, the unencumbered male genius, good writing, and the parent-residency problem
I think a lot about the image of the male genius, sitting by the window, gazing out longingly at green pastures, writing. I think about this guy a lot because he’s an illusion. I think about this guy a lot because he’s the ideal writer. I think about this guy a lot because he is very much not me.
I write from chaos. My desk is covered in stuff. My calendar is too. Lyz Lenz recently posted a picture of her desk, overflowing with books and papers, on Instagram. I replied eagerly, like a dork, so glad I’m not alone! But the image spoke to me because it represented something other than the image of The Writer on which so much literary culture is built, someone more like this guy:
