When I think about the lives of my women writer friends, the things we talk about in urgent yet hushed tones, I think of this essay by editor Carole DeSanti. It speaks to our problem which still has no name, that unnameable something that has probably brought many women to this forum--specifically the fact that "she needs help." Here's a preview: "Where are those who used to read drafts, shore up doubts, shush children, cook meals, endure writerly tantrums, encourage the wild experiment, agree to move abroad, hold salons, point out plot glitches, and bring the writer back to her heart’s desire?"
Read it. You'll be glad you did.