Friday Friends : Elaine Joyce HONEY, I HAVE TO WRITE A BOOK.


I had been writing for quite a while, doing OK at it. I was nominated for an award along with two other authors for an anthology we had done. Unfortunately, I had hurt my knee and couldn’t go. My husband went in my place. Little did I know how much that weekend would change my life.

When he got home Sunday, I was greeted with, “Honey I have to write a book.” I should have known he’d be bitten by the bug sooner or later. He had sat next to an editor at lunch and he told her about an idea for a book. Something he hadn’t even told me at that point. The book was about the life of Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes nemesis.

OK, this was going to take some adjusting, especially since we were both working what we called “Rent Paying Jobs” For more than 10 years I had been the only writer in the family. At least I knew what to expect and could help him.

Luckily we each had our own computer, for years we shared one. Our reference books began breeding, Everything was doubled, computer paper, ink, memberships to writers groups and conferences.
We each are the others first editor. I have GDS(grammar difficulty syndrome) and he helps correct my mistakes. I on the other hand try to control his tendency to info dump.
We basically write differently, not just genres but style, he is more formal than I am. I have to remind him to use contractions.
A former research librarian, he has helped me research many things. He may not know something, but he does know where to find out about it. We’ve plotted while grocery shopping, swimming, on the bus, in the car. One day we were going to visit my dad and had stopped for lunch at a small cafe. We were on Cape Cod. Before we had stopped at the restaurant I asked him, what would you do if a revolutionary war soldier suddenly showed up and started shooting at these machines he knows nothing about. We were off, what would he wear, what would he think? How he would talk? As we entered the cafe we had begun talking about guns. My husband inherited his fathers love of military history and knowledge of guns. The cafe was quiet, it was late afternoon and an elderly couple came in and sat at the table next to us. After a few minutes of listening to us they very quietly got up and walked to the other side of the room. We were probably lucky they didn’t decide to call the police on us.
However, a second writer in the house also means, you don’t have to explain your strangeness to him. When he comes home you greet him with” _______(insert character name) decided to talk to me today.” He doesn’t look at you like you’re totally crazy.
Its nice to have someone to bounce things off, who is right there, it’s can be a blessing. As long as they are truthful.
A two writer family, whether its husband and wife, parent and son or daughter, is like a marriage. It takes understanding, trust, honesty and love.