Writing the Opposite Sex

A friend of mine asked me how I write in the point of view of the opposite sex. My first response: I honestly haven’t thought about it much.

I think it’s because I’ve read books all my life, and a lot of those books were written by men. All those plots, all that internal monologue, all those ways of seeing into a character – it’s encoded in my memory. Having started with Stephen King and worked my way to Robert Crais, I spend so much time with the brainchildren of these writers that I think like them to some degree. If my appetite were women’s fiction, I’d probably think more and write more along those lines.

I honestly can’t tell the difference between the basic characters of people, male or female. That’s because every character is different. We’re unique. Everyone is, to some extent, the exception to the rule.

I’m not saying there aren’t general differences between men and women. Physical, cultural, sociological – you name it. But people are basically people, and I’ve never had a problem getting into some guy’s head—especially because I’m inventing him. It’s my party and I’ll write what I want to.

Also, I think a writer must have a really good ear. They can hear a man talking and thinking, or a woman talking and thinking. A lot of the time, they’re thinking the same things. Dr. Phil has a list of universal needs in human beings. He says (and I believe him) that the number one need for any human being is the need for acceptance. Followed by the fear of rejection. Go with those – I don’t care if you’re male or female – you’re going to do all right. If you think of characters as people. Individual, specific, particular people.

There are writers—even successful ones–who are tone deaf. There are male writers whose own insecurities and poor instincts lead them to objectify women, as they would in real life—it’s the author coming out. On the distaff side, women objectify men, too. There are romances I’ve read where a woman tries to be in a man’s head, but it is truly a fantasy. It’s what she’d like to think the guy is thinking—usually about her, the author—and it rings false.

Plus, there is sexism, which is often perpetrated more by women than by men; probably because as a group, men don’t think about it as an issue all that much. I remember being really angry as a kid reading Marguerite Henry’s books about Misty, the pony from Chincoteague. It was always “Paul and Maureen”, never the other way around. Paul always got the good stuff (most of the riding, although when he was through, Maureen got her shot), and worse, Paul would say, “You can’t do this because you’re a girl”.

Well, screw Paul.

When I became a young adult and started having relationships, I noticed this: not only were men great company, but they were people just like me. We had the same hopes, dreams, and fears.

It’s possible that the college years are looser, freer – and people are more homogenous then than at any other point in their lives. It’s possible that over the years, the soft cement of our upbringing hardens into concrete and we become more of what we were raised to be. I often think I’ve returned to the person I was before puberty hit – about eleven. That was me, somehow, and more of that person is coming out.

As we grow older, we remember the things we picked up as children: Men don’t ask for directions. Women always say, “What are you thinking”? Men don’t remember to buy gifts. Women are self-sacrificing. What a bunch of crap.

I think of men and women as those bottles of salad dressing – the ones they used to have back in the seventies where you fill it up with oil to one level, vinegar to another level, then the herbs, then the water—and you shake it up. I think with males and females, as individuals, our levels are all over the place. They don’t necessarily fit with the conventional wisdom.

I don’t have any real answers why one writer feels that writing the opposite sex is incredibly easy and another is filled with apprehension to even try. Perhaps it’s wired into our DNA. Or perhaps it is how we were raised. Who knows?

There are things that scare me. Public speaking, for one. Other people don’t even think about it. They wonder why I’m so freaked out. Maybe writing the opposite sex is like that.

My suggestion to anyone who wants to write in an opposite’s point of view is to just write it. Don’t worry about it, just write it down. I’m guessing if you write enough of it, you’ll start to realize that it’s not such a big hurdle after all. It’s like the Toastmaster’s theory. Keep doing it and it becomes easier.

Maybe read Dr. Phil’s precepts – what fears and actions are universal to men and women. There’s actually a lot of good stuff in Dr. Phil’s books that could help a writer. Like the five main things that formed you to be the person you are now. I’ve used that method to develop my leading characters.

Another thing you could do is write something from the point of view of your own sex, then change the name. See if it rings true.

Chances are, people being people, it will.

-- Margaret Falk