by Michelle Gagnon
Part of me thinks that he’s deliberately avoiding my books, afraid that he’ll see himself or our life mirrored in the characters. Despite regular reassurances that I have not killed off anyone resembling him (not yet, at least), he remains resistant. I’m not sure why. It couldn’t be the length of the books, it’s certainly not as if I wrote War and Peace. Or the subject matter: if I was writing treatises on the mores of Victorian Women, sure, I could understand his reluctance. But I write thrillers, page turners. I’ve had friends finish my books during a single plane flight.
Of course, I knew at the outset of our relationship that he was not much of a fiction reader to begin with. He’s an action guy, someone who would much rather putter around his boat or work on his motorcycle than settle in with a book. And when he does read, he prefers historical texts about ancient Rome or the Celts.
But do I occasionally wish that I had a Mr. Penny Warner? Sure. If nothing else, it would be great to have someone haul those books around for me, especially if he remembered to bring change (I never do). And I have hatched a plan. Our next vacation will be to Kauai, during Hawaii’s rainy season. I’ll have both of my books on hand. And this time I’m hiding the bathroom reader.
Last week I attended a library event with two other authors. One of them, the lovely and talented Penny Warner, had her husband in tow. He not only carried her box of books, he worked the crowd during the dinner portion of the evening, handled the money as she sold books, and generally behaved as one of the best publicists I’ve ever seen. He was charming, enthusiastic, and even managed a smile when his wife joked that while her hero had, “The mind of a poet and the body of a construction worker, her husband had the body of a poet and mind of a construction worker.”
I went up to Penny afterwards and asked which husband catalogue she shopped from.
I lurk on a number of listservs, and periodically there will be a thread where writers either applaud or bemoan the level of support they get from their spouses. I fall into the latter category, sadly. While my husband has many fine qualities, he’s completely in the dark as to what I’m doing with my writing career. In fact, he’s only read one of my books so far. That’s right, one out of three. And that was because we were trapped in a cabin in Hawaii with no television, in a steady downpour, and he’d already exhausted the bathroom reader. So when I read someone’s post claiming that their partner is their first and best editor, my jaw drops. When spouses show up at conventions, I’m in shock. My husband managed to make it to my book release party last year, but I suspect the promise of wine and hors d’oeuvres factored strongly into that decision.
Part of me thinks that he’s deliberately avoiding my books, afraid that he’ll see himself or our life mirrored in the characters. Despite regular reassurances that I have not killed off anyone resembling him (not yet, at least), he remains resistant. I’m not sure why. It couldn’t be the length of the books, it’s certainly not as if I wrote War and Peace. Or the subject matter: if I was writing treatises on the mores of Victorian Women, sure, I could understand his reluctance. But I write thrillers, page turners. I’ve had friends finish my books during a single plane flight.
Of course, I knew at the outset of our relationship that he was not much of a fiction reader to begin with. He’s an action guy, someone who would much rather putter around his boat or work on his motorcycle than settle in with a book. And when he does read, he prefers historical texts about ancient Rome or the Celts.
And as I said, he’s extremely supportive in other ways. He minds the house and family when I travel for events or conferences. His paycheck insulates us against the whimsical nature of my royalties and book advances. He’s willing to listen to the occasional gripes about the publishing industry, even if he doesn’t know enough about the field to offer advice. And there are definitely times that I’m happy we’re not both writers. For one thing, we’d probably be living in a cardboard box under a bridge right now. And for another, it forces me out of the insular world that’s created when a person works alone in a room day after day.
But do I occasionally wish that I had a Mr. Penny Warner? Sure. If nothing else, it would be great to have someone haul those books around for me, especially if he remembered to bring change (I never do). And I have hatched a plan. Our next vacation will be to Kauai, during Hawaii’s rainy season. I’ll have both of my books on hand. And this time I’m hiding the bathroom reader.
So I’m curious: how much spousal support do you get? On a scale of 1 to 10, I’m giving my husband a 5. Where does your partner stand? (Feel free to post anonymously J)
Michelle Gagnon is a former modern dancer, bartender, dog walker, model, personal trainer, and Russian supper club performer. Her debut thriller THE TUNNELS was an IMBA bestseller. Her next book, BONEYARD, depicts a cat and mouse game between dueling serial killers. In her spare time she runs errands and wonders why it always rains on her vacations. Sign up for her newsletter at www.michellegagnon.com to enter drawings for an Amazon Kindle, iPod Shuffle, Starbucks gift certificates, or other fabulous prizes.
