Sylvia Plath and the bitch goddess

I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and flashing sun.
-The Crystal Gazer by Sara Teasdale

It terrifies me when people ask when my next book will come out. When in fact, publishing a book actually terrifies me more as far as made me feel burdened about writing. Writing for me is more about helping myself. And finishing Sylvia Plath’s biography by Edward Butscher recently reminded me of that.

It’s no doubt that Sylvia is a gifted poet and author. But only in her final year after separated from her beloved husband did she finally freed herself and became the bitch goddess (a term for her rage-filled and liberating writing style), which allowed her to produce some of her best work.

I’m not into poetry, but I guess what drew me to her is more about her tragic story. Before the book, I’ve only known Sylvia Plath as a pop symbol. Upon reading her book, I found that we share the same curiousity about death and disdain for patriarchy. And the former is particularly exhilarating, since many consider it as taboo.

It astounded me how easy suicide was in the past, and I kind of feel like it’s not fair how it becomes so difficult now. If one is to commit sucide today, I don’t think we have an option relatively clean and painless.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no suicidal tendency myself, so this is purely philosophical. But it struck me how somebody can procreate freely, but we don’t let people choose to die. Of course, I’m saying this not to encourage people to commit suicide. And I guess it’s fair to disclose that I’ve never had someone close to me die of suicide, so maybe I’m saying this out of ignorance.

Anyway, all in all. The book reminds me that I don’t owe the world my writing, but I owe myself to write, which is why this post exists. Sylvia’s biography reminds me of that and it’s a much needed slap.