Ace makes a great point. In the time it took these gals to flip all the books around they could have cranked out a few thousand words in their magnum opus about angry feminists, disillusioned young women, urban hipsters, or some such.
One is further reminded of Herman Wouk's Caine Mutiny. The Caine of course has a novelist on board, the cynical Tom. When our protagonist Willie Keith takes over many of Tom's duties, he is shocked to learn how badly and inefficiently he performed them. Tom valued time above all else, time to write his novel.
Time people, make some. I know I do. Ok, today I blew it and let myself stay in bed all the way till 6:30. You can't blame me. Mrs. Stroock was too much of an alluring S beneath the blanket not to snuggle up to for a while. After that I got my coffee (life blood) and was writing this post by 6:40.
You think any of the gals in that bookstore or the ones who are cheering them on were up at 6:30 and thought they slept in? Look up what the feminist harpy Elizabeth Wurtzel was doing on 9/11. These people will sleep through anything.
Really, come on, girls. There's a fiction gap? I suppose maybe, for example, in historical literature. One suspects that most of your 19th century frontier novels were written by men. Most of the hardy frontier women were too busy, you know, with the household chores and just didn't have the free time of your modern, urban and hip young women with degrees from the writing program at Oberlin.
Have these gals been to a B&N lately? Have they seen the sea of romance novels, vampire lit and pastel clad tomes about pretty urban young women with great careers living in exposed brick apartments but still somehow single?
You know what there's a dearth of? Men's lit. That's why everyone I know who is writing about stuff men like (explosions, tits) is indy.
Hey, you want to write your feminist tome? I'm all for it. Get to work.
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