Thinking about the Bechdel test
Sep. 8th, 2010 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bktheirregularThe links that have popped up about the Bechdel test got me thinking about my own writing. Being a guy, I suspect I have a tendency to default to "write what you know" - but then again, my writing generally hasn't been tailored to finding a profitable audience or what have you, so if a plot I'm working on calls for two women to have a discussion on substantive issues, then I just do it without worrying about audience demographics.
Probably the same for a lot of fandom writers - beta readers are for making a work more polished and enjoyable, but in general, you're not trying to *sell* the work, I guess.
Anyway, I was thinking, and a conversation from an old work-in-progress I've been turning over for about twenty-five years came to mind. Two women, talking about a substantive, potentially life-threatening topic. A man is brought up in the conversation as an example, but he's not the subject of the conversation, not really.
Would this pass the Bechdel test, I wonder?
...
Elliott slapped the power pack back into the grip, pressed the safety until the pistol powered down fully, and dropped the weapon onto the table with a clatter. "I don't carry guns on a story," she said firmly.
Major Harrelson crossed her arms and glared up at Elliott. "Wrong. Miss Elliott, you do not get to go down-planet with the contact team and pretend that you're just an ordinary field reporter on a routine assignment. We are going into potentially life-threatening danger here, and I will not let anyone down who can't defend themselves because they're squeamish.
"I've got two dead crew already in sickbay's cryo room, and I am not sending you to join them. It is my job to make sure that everyone aboard this ship survives this mission and comes home in one piece. I've already failed, but I will be damned if I let any more people die on my watch if I can help it. If I've got to split my attention to worry about you, then someone else I'm responsible for could be left uncovered," Harrelson said.
Elliott countered, "You have to have had unarmed civilians under your protection before. This shouldn't be different. I've dealt with tense situations before in the field, and I always handled it. Without a gun."
"Not this time," Harrelson grated. "You've shown you know how to use a weapon? Then you will damn well carry one down with you."
"Commander McKeegan's not wearing a gun," Elliott pointed out.
Harrelson gritted her teeth. "He's the captain. He outranks me, so if he wants to be a suicidal idiot down there, unfortunately, he has that right." She grabbed a skeleton holster off the weapons table, slid the pistol into it, and shoved the holstered gun into Elliott's chest. "You? Don't."
...
Very rough, just a snippet. Takes place on day three or four of seven, and my latest efforts have only gotten halfway through page one.
Oh, and that conversation was first written years before I'd ever heard of the Bechdel test.
Probably the same for a lot of fandom writers - beta readers are for making a work more polished and enjoyable, but in general, you're not trying to *sell* the work, I guess.
Anyway, I was thinking, and a conversation from an old work-in-progress I've been turning over for about twenty-five years came to mind. Two women, talking about a substantive, potentially life-threatening topic. A man is brought up in the conversation as an example, but he's not the subject of the conversation, not really.
Would this pass the Bechdel test, I wonder?
...
Elliott slapped the power pack back into the grip, pressed the safety until the pistol powered down fully, and dropped the weapon onto the table with a clatter. "I don't carry guns on a story," she said firmly.
Major Harrelson crossed her arms and glared up at Elliott. "Wrong. Miss Elliott, you do not get to go down-planet with the contact team and pretend that you're just an ordinary field reporter on a routine assignment. We are going into potentially life-threatening danger here, and I will not let anyone down who can't defend themselves because they're squeamish.
"I've got two dead crew already in sickbay's cryo room, and I am not sending you to join them. It is my job to make sure that everyone aboard this ship survives this mission and comes home in one piece. I've already failed, but I will be damned if I let any more people die on my watch if I can help it. If I've got to split my attention to worry about you, then someone else I'm responsible for could be left uncovered," Harrelson said.
Elliott countered, "You have to have had unarmed civilians under your protection before. This shouldn't be different. I've dealt with tense situations before in the field, and I always handled it. Without a gun."
"Not this time," Harrelson grated. "You've shown you know how to use a weapon? Then you will damn well carry one down with you."
"Commander McKeegan's not wearing a gun," Elliott pointed out.
Harrelson gritted her teeth. "He's the captain. He outranks me, so if he wants to be a suicidal idiot down there, unfortunately, he has that right." She grabbed a skeleton holster off the weapons table, slid the pistol into it, and shoved the holstered gun into Elliott's chest. "You? Don't."
...
Very rough, just a snippet. Takes place on day three or four of seven, and my latest efforts have only gotten halfway through page one.
Oh, and that conversation was first written years before I'd ever heard of the Bechdel test.
