Greetings, writers—
I got the text from my neighbor, D, on Sunday: “We are signing our marriage certificate on Tuesday at 6pm. We will eat pizza and hang out. Would love to have you and the fam attend if you are free!”
It was an exciting text to get, even if I didn’t really understand what it meant. Had D and H unofficially eloped? Had there been a paperwork delay? Or had they held an actual wedding ceremony without signing the certificate? I once knew a couple who forgot to sign their certificate after their big splashy wedding, a fact they only realized when they went to get divorced.
So yesterday evening, we put on clean clothes and wandered next door, where there were actual rows of chairs in the tiny backyard, and I realized what you’ve probably already guessed, which was that this was a last-minute actual wedding. The dog was wearing a bowtie, there were babies everywhere, and I felt like I was back in the wedding season of my life (the late 90s) and also like I was very, very old.
We stood around, making smalltalk with the other guests. Little kids ate Annie’s crackers and dragged their stuffed animals back and forth, and my 13-year-old told me to stop making stupid faces at the babies.
Then it was time for the ceremony, which was truly sweet and very quick. During the vows, the bow-tied dog rolled ecstatically around on the astroturf, which, judging by the slightly acrid tang in the air, he had been watering liberally with his urine.
Maybe that detail kind of ruins the vibe, but truth in reporting, etc. etc. Afterwards, I got to hold the baby I’d been making the stupidest faces at, and guess what, she loved me, and all in all I was reminded again that a wedding is a wonderful thing, and that one of these days Jon and I should have one.
I was also reminded of Susan Minot’s gorgeous book, Evening, which takes place at a wedding and was one of my companion books when I was writing Hello, Goodbye. A companion book is one you keep close at hand (in the upper left corner of your desk, if you’re me) while you’re working on your own story, and it earns its place there for any number of reasons— because it’s tonally resonant, it’s set in a similar place, it shares themes with your work, or you just flat-out love it and think it has something to teach you about the story you’re trying to write.
It’s different than a book you need for research (I keep those on the right side of my desk, which makes me sound much more organized than I am), because you aren’t after facts; you’re after inspiration. I love research books—when I started working on my last collaboration with James Patterson, I checked out every single wolf book in the library catalogue—but not like I loved my Hello, Goodbye companion books.
For my Alleged Novel, which I’ll be returning to soon, I have gathered a few research books (all on Bach so far), but no companion books. I don’t know who’s written them or what they’ll be, but I want them as soon as possible, as companions for the journey.
Do you have a book that’s been a friend, a guide, or an inspiration for your writing? If so, please share it!
Emily
P.S. A book that was, in a way, both research and companion back when I was in grad school was The Modern Library Writer’s Workshop by Stephen Koch (a kind, wise man and actually one of my professors at Columbia).