Are Men Really From Mars?

ARE MEN REALLY FROM MARS? by Maree Anderson for Writers Gone Wild

I'm a bit pressed for time today, so I'm gonna cheat and base this post on an excerpt from my website and offer it up as a question for discussion.

If men really are from Mars then (aside from an obviously masculine author's name emblazoned on the front cover) is it really that simple to figure out whether the romance book you're currently reading is written by a man or a woman?

What if a male author uses a pen name? For example, I'm pretty sure I remember the incomparable Donald Maass telling us that he had published a number of category romances under a feminine pen name. I wonder, if I read them today, whether I would be able to pick that they're written by a man. Would there be any little behavioral clues, nuances, word-choices and the like, that might give the author's gender away?

Your thoughts please!

And I'm not making judgements here. There's a popular male author currently writing for HQN Nascar and I really love his books!

It's merely that enquiring minds -- namely me! -- are curious to know.

And just for fun, here's the except that I mentioned from my website -- posted back in 2006, I think?

It's a prime example of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”, offered by an English professor from the University of Colorado for an actual class assignment.

The professor told his class one day:

“Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will email your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on… back and forth.

Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the emails and anything you wish to say must be written in the email. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached.”

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students, Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY (first paragraph by Rebecca).
At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her of Carl. who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(Second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed, asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. “A.S. Harris to Geost Station 17,” he said into his transgalactic communicator. “Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far…” But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship’s cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for completely ruining things with the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. “Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,” Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu’udrian mothership had launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left the Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien emipires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anu’udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverise the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered, tedious, neurotic, whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. “Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F–KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I am such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!”

(Rebecca)
Asshole

(Gary)
Bitch!

(Rebecca)
F**K YOU – YOU NEANDERTHAL!!

(Gary)
In your dreams, HO. Go drink some tea!

(Teacher)
A+ – I really liked this one!

LOL! I'm still laughing over this.

And incidentally, over at Romance University today, their He Said, She Said: A Tale of Two Scenes as part of their regular "Anatomy of the Male Mind" feature, highlights a scene written by a male author, and then the same scene written by a female author.

Very interesting.

Cheers!

:-)
M