"It was miraculous, I wanted to shout into the wind, how much space opened up in your brain when you stopped filling it with a steady stream of other people’s thoughts!" - Emily Gould, "How Much My Novel Cost Me."
(Never mind the irony that I'm posting this somewhere that ends up on a Twitter stream and a Facebook account - I heartily recommend sectioning off your online life and occasionally turning it off entirely.)
And over on Huffington Post is a post that basically, well, tells a very successful female author to stop writing books. The writer, an author herself, writes, "You've had your turn. Enjoy your vast fortune ... But it's time to give other writers, and other writing, room to breathe."
Okay, we know this writer cannot expect that the VSF author being addressed will read the piece and say, Gosh, you have a point, I'll just go retire happily and steer all my erstwhile readers to you instead. Some folks like to rabble rouse; others speak/write before they think. Or want publicity, never mind at whose expense. (There's a reason I'm not linking to the post, although by just mentioning it I'm part of the problem.)
But I prefer to think (and I'm aware this is likely wistful thinking) that this is satire, that this author will soon stand up and say, Couldn't you all see I was joking!?! Hey, I said I never even read her books!
And very tired and jaundiced part of me wonders if this author would have aimed the same sort of diatribe at a male author. Neil Gaiman also stepped into the world of writing adult novels - part of this writer's point seems to be that, having 'conquered' one genre, authors should be polite enough not to step over to another genre.
But I'm still waiting for the Gotcha! response from the writer.