During an interesting discussion over at the Historical Novel Society’s Yahoo group over whether female readers would read historical novels narrated by men (I certainly would, and do), someone brought up the Gender Genie, which purports to guess a writer’s gender based on a sampling of their work. I submitted the first chapter of The Traitor’s Wife, the prologue of Hugh and Bess, the first chapter of my work in progress (narrated by a woman), and several blog entries to the test. The result? Raging testosterone, baby. Except for The Traitor’s Wife and one blog post, Gender Genie is convinced that I am a man.
This may explain why I have never understood why anyone would pay $500 for a pair of shoes, my indifference to knickknacks, and why strangers over the telephone often address me as “sir.” On the other hand, it doesn’t do much to explain my total lack of interest in sports, my willingness to ask directions, and my two pregnancies.
As it’s time to get back to work, I’ll curb my distressingly feminine tendency to chit-chat and cut this blog post short. Besides, I need the extra time to search out some Bernard Cornwell novels tonight.