The Mother’s Hour (2006)
A lot of what I’ve written has an element of answering the question “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” This isn’t necessarily because, as one critic memorably suggested, I am a masochist (at least I hope I’m not). It’s just that I think the most interesting dramatic possibilities come in moments of crisis. So I put my protagonists through the wringer by asking: What if your ex-boyfriend writes a column about your sex life? What if your sister steals your boyfriend? What if your baby dies?
One of my current preoccupations as a mother is the standards parents hold themselves up to, the way mothers judge themselves and one another, the debate between working versus stay-at-home mothers, those who stay in the city versus those who go to the suburbs, those who hire nannies versus those who opt for day care . . . and on and on and round and round it goes. This story touches on some of the tension implicit in the choices, and the sacrifices, that modern mothers make, and takes up my old favorite question, slightly tweaked—“What’s the worst thing you didn’t do?” I think this is as close to a horror story as I’ll ever come.
(Interesting side note: This was almost published by a women’s magazine that was fine with everything except the ending. Would I consider changing it, the editor wanted to know. I decided not to. I think, given the circumstances, and the choices the characters made, it ends about the way it should).
Tour of Duty (1992)
My mother actually told me that my father was leaving on our way back from my interview at Princeton, at the Vince Lombardi service area on the New Jersey Turnpike. (“Well, where was I supposed to tell you?” she demanded, when I pointed out that this was perhaps not the most appropriate venue for such a revelation.)
This was the first story I ever got paid for. Seventeen published it in the fall of 1992. They paid me $1,000, which was an unbelievable amount of money, especially given that I was earning $16,000 a year at the time. I used the check to buy a couch from Ikea.
Oranges from Florida (1994)
My brother Joe used to fall asleep listening to talk radio, and that’s where the idea for this one came from. It was also an interesting challenge to write from the perspective of a man and view the end of a marriage through his eyes.
Redbook published the story in 1994 (they retitled it Someone to Trust, for reasons I never understood).
Dora on the Beach (1998)
I wrote an early draft of this story years before my second novel, In Her Shoes, but I think it contains the germ of the idea that formed part of that story: a girl with a surplus of chutzpah and a lack of funds heading to a resort community and, essentially, kidnapping a grandmother so she’ll have a place to stay.
It almost got published twice, but was turned down by two different magazines. (I think the main character wound up being too old, and the teenage girls too unlikable. Plus, the whole abortion thing might have been a little too much.) Like In Her Shoes, it’s also a sister story, a story about secrets and the redemptive possibilities of love.
A CONVERSATION WITH JENNIFER WEINER
Q: Some of these stories were published before, and some were stories you’d written years ago and revised. Have you always been a prolific writer? Before your blog, did you keep journals of your writing? Were you always interested in fiction, even before you started being published?
A: I credit ten years of journalism for what probably looks, to outsiders, like an impressive work ethic. When you’re working at a small newspaper, writing three or four stories a day, you get used to being productive. I love writing—I always have—and I’ve been writing fiction almost as long as I’ve been reading it. So of course I have the obligatory shoeboxes full of unpublished short stories, articles, letters to editors, and fragments of novels. Not too many journals, though. I shared a bedroom with my sister Molly for seventeen years, and no matter where I hid my diaries she’d find them and use them to humiliate me.
Q: The family in “Just Desserts” bears very close resemblance to your own family. Do the characters—Nicki, Jon, and the mother—share traits with your family members? And if so, do they mind making these types of cameos in your work?
A: I will offer my mother’s standard disclaimer—the one she typically recites when anyone asks about my work in general, and the mother in Good in Bed specifically—“it’s fiction!”
The truth is, no matter how autobiographical something is at the beginning of its life, by the time it’s been through four or five rounds of revisions, it usually isn’t my real life, or my real family, anymore. Fiction offers many more possibilities than autobiography does. Plus, I’ve got to save something for the memoirs!
Last answer: I am lucky enough to be related to a bunch of very funny and tolerant people who understand the reality of living with a writer. If there’s something funny, or interesting, or humiliating, or tragic, and the writer finds out about it, chances are, it’s going to show up in some form, some day, somewhere. All they ask is a chance to read my work ahead of time, which I’m happy to give them, and a chance to join me on vacations, book parties and at movie premieres (ditto).
Q: What inspired you to write “Good Men” from Bruce Guberman’s point of view? Do you have plans to revisit any of the other characters from Good in Bed or your other books?
A: Believe it or not, “Good Men” was actually written before Good in Bed was even a gleam in my eye. I had those two characters in mind: a guy with a good heart, who’s a bit of a slacker, and a girl with a sharp tongue who’s a bit of a control freak, and the trouble they could get into. “Good Men” was their first outing (driven in part, I will confess, by my eternal fascination with stoner humor).
And yes, there is one other character from Good in Bed who will get a voice of his/her own in Certain Girls, the book that I’m working on now . . . but I think I’ll keep you in suspense as to which one (Tanya fans can start lobbying now!)
Q: Absent fathers loom large in most of these stories. Why are non-traditional families such rich fodder for your work? Do you agree with Tolstoy that “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”?
A: I do agree with Tolstoy, but I also think that happy families (and, if you’re part of one, forgive me) . . . just aren’t that interesting. At least, not from a fictional standpoint. People who are suffering, or in crisis, or trying to make sense of their lives are much more fun for me to play around with than, say, women who are in love, happy with their children, their choices, and the size of their hips. I’m not sure a character like that would yield an interesting chapter, let alone an interesting short story or novel.
Q: In “Buyer’s Market,” you play with the idea of a Hollywood ending: “If life were a movie, Jess would have looked into Steven Ostrowsky’s eyes and fallen deeply and immediately in love” (165). Do you think readers expect Hollywood-type happy endings in your writing? How do you work with these expectations?
A: I think there are a few things at play here. One is that I do think that readers expect happy endings from me. Which is perfectly understandable. If you’re setting out to tell an entertaining story with a protagonist who feels relatable, funny, and real, and if you’ve done your job well, then of course readers are going to want good things to happen to her.
As her creator, I will too. I sometimes think that my job as an author is to take flawed, damaged characters and bring them to a happier place—not a perfect place, but a place that at least offers them some decent possibilities. (This is especially true if I’m going to make them suffer!) And while I don’t believe that marriage is the only happy ending possible—the bright bow that has to be tied around every young woman’s life in order for her to say “There! Done! Happy!”—I do believe that there is a very primal yearning for connection. It could be romantic, could be familial, could be a friendship (readers have pointed out that the most engaged and passionate relationships my heroines have aren’t always with the men in their lives, but with their best friends).
/>
To make a long answer short, I generally believe in trying to bring my characters to a good place, but I don’t believe that happy endings all look the same, or are necessarily what the reader, or the heroine, expects.
Q: DreamWorks Pictures snapped up the film rights to “The Guy Not Taken.” Ideally, who would you envision starring as Marlie, Bob, and Drew? What did you think of the film version of In Her Shoes?
A: I was thrilled with the film adaptation of In Her Shoes, and I always enjoy the time I spend in Hollywood, where my brothers, my sister, my sister-in-law, and my niece all live, but I can’t say that I’ve given the movie version of “The Guy Not Taken” much thought. My job is to tell the stories, as best I can, and once I’m done, and the book is published, my work is done. Any possible movies are then the filmmakers’ story to tell, and my job is to stand on the sidelines, cheer them on, hope for the best, and work on my next book. That was how I felt with In Her Shoes, and it’s how I feel about “The Guy Not Taken,” and it’s how I hope I’ll feel about any future projects that come down the pike.
With all of that as a gigantic disclaimer, I will say that I hope that Marlie actually looks like a regular person, instead of some Los Angeles glamazon in the standard-issue chunky-frame glasses that they give starlets when they’re trying to make them look like regular people.
Q: “The Mother’s Hour” was such an accurate portrayal of the first few months (and years) of parenting, and the unlikely friendships that follow. Did you join any mother’s groups when you first had your daughter? And further, did you meet any interesting mothers along the way?
A: I joined every mother’s group that would have me when my daughter was first born, because if I was home alone with her, I’d end up feeling isolated, lonely, overwhelmed, and inadequate—and usually all four by lunchtime. This was not because my daughter was such a difficult child. She wasn’t. But, after a lifetime of being a good student, and relatively professionally competent as a journalist and novelist, motherhood was hard in a different way.
So Lucy and I were out and about a lot. We did playgroups, took classes, went on play dates and outings with our friends. As I’m writing this, she’s getting ready to start nursery school, and I feel as though I know every woman in Philadelphia who had a baby the same year I did. All of them were interesting, and some of them became my good friends, but none of them were much like the mothers in “The Mother’s Hour.” I hope I’m not, either.
Q: Your blog, Snarkspot, at www.jenniferweiner.blogspot.com, is immensely popular. What purpose does the blog serve in your career and in your personal life? Do you think blogging is a good first step for aspiring writers?
A: It goes back to the journalism thing. I got spoiled by being able to write a lot, and being able to respond to things that happened immediately—one of the few luxuries that fiction doesn’t give you, unless you’re publishing it online.
My blog is a way for me to feed the part of myself that journalism fed—the part that got to write quickly and informally, about anything that struck my fancy, whether it was reality television or a three-year-old’s birthday party. It’s also a way to keep in touch with my readers, and to let them keep up with me (to the extent that anyone would want to).
I’d encourage any aspiring writer to blog. I think anything that lets you write regularly for an audience is good practice, and a good foundation for more ambitious writing.
Q: More often than not your stories take place in Philadelphia or on the East Coast. In this collection, “Swim” is vividly set in Los Angeles. How do you portray life—in this case with the aspiring writers and actors, the coffee shops and the apartment complexes—in places you’ve never lived? How do you do this type of research?
A: Thanks to the aforementioned family, I actually do spend a lot of time in Los Angeles, and I have had the experience of writing in a coffee shop there. I take my laptop to a coffee shop in Philadelphia all the time, without incident, but when I went to a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf in L.A., it took me about an hour to notice that, basically, every single person at every single table was a writer, with a laptop, and an agent, and a cell phone to call the agent on. It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Every single table was filled with better-looking versions of me!
QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION
1. Why do you think this book is called The Guy Not Taken? What is the significance of the title for that story, and for the collection as a whole? What are some of the themes in “The Guy Not Taken” that you also find in the other stories?
2. In “Just Desserts” the younger sister, Nicki, dismisses the Jaws movies as fake looking, yet she uses a different false name every day at work. Why do you think Nicki is preoccupied with illusion and authenticity?
3. In “Travels with Nicki,” Josie fantasizes about helping her sister through college: “Or maybe I’d just drop out and give her my loan, and start again next year. My roommate would undoubtedly be delighted to have our double to herself” (44). What are the motivations behind Josie’s fantasy? If she is so eager to rescue her sister, why does she leave Nicki to face their angry mother alone at the end of the story?
4. “Just Desserts,” “Travels with Nicki,” and “The Wedding Bed” all feature the Crystal family—following the Crystal siblings from high school angst through to wedding-night jitters. And while Nicki still demands “No unnecessary touch!”, the relationship between the two sisters has undoubtedly grown and changed through the years. What aspects of their relationship remain constant throughout the stories? Which aspects seem to have developed? And what brings Josie and Nicki together on Josie’s wedding night? What is left unsaid between them?
5. In the story “Swim,” Ruth spends hours in the pool explaining, “The familiar smell of chlorine, the feel of the water buoying me, holding me up, eased my homesickness and shame” (82), while her grandmother cooks as though it were “Christmas in New England and [she was] expecting a hockey team or two to show up for dinner” (85). What do you feel these women are compensating for? How do you see both Ruth and her grandmother moving forward at the end of the story? What role does Caitlyn play?
6. In “Buyer’s Market,” how does Jess’s father compare to Charming Billy? What do these men want from Jess, and how do they attempt to achieve their goals? Why does Billy succeed when Jess’s father failed? Though we only meet him briefly, how does David Stewart, the Hoboken real estate agent, seem to differ from both of them?
7. “Good Men” is a prequel to Good in Bed, Jennifer Weiner’s first novel. If you’ve read Good in Bed, what was your reaction to Bruce’s point of view in this story? Are you more or less sympathetic to his character after reading “Good Men”? What other characters from Weiner’s novels would you like to see again? Weiner is writing a sequel to Good in Bed entitled Certain Girls. How do you imagine Bruce will be portrayed?
8. “Good Men” and “Oranges from Florida” are both written from a male point of view. Compare the narrative voice in each—which is a more convincing portrait of a male perspective? Discuss these two stories within the context of the collection as a whole.
9. Alice and Victoria enjoy a short though much needed friendship in “The Mother’s Hour.” What does Alice find in Victoria and her “warm little kitchen” that she feels is lacking in other areas of her life? When Ellie is hospitalized, Alice is confronted by a social worker to vouch for Victoria. “Alice paused. Victoria is a wonderful mother, she wanted to say”(217). What kept Alice from saying these words? What events specifically shaped her opinion of Victoria? Was she wrong?
10. “It is hard to keep secrets from your children. This was what Marion thought as she did laps next to her son . . .” (249). Why does Marion decide to keep Hal’s leaving a secret from Jason? Do you agree with her choices in this story?
11. There are several sets of unlikely friends in these stories: Jess and Namita in “Buyer’s Market,” Marlie and Jamie in “The Guy Not Taken,” and Alice and Victoria in “The
Mother’s Hour.” What is the role of envy in each friendship? Picture each story written from the point of view of Namita, Jamie, and Victoria, respectively. How would the stories change from their perspectives?
12. How does Dora’s history—her disappointment in her son and the secret about her husband’s past—play into her reaction to Dawn and Amber’s presence? At what point does it seem that Dora softens toward the girls? And why, when the girls forget to push chairs in front of Dora’s bedroom door, does she opt not to call the police? Does Dora relate to the girls only because she’s lonely, or is their connection more complex?
PERMISSIONS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
“Happiness” copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon. Reprinted from Collected Poems with the permission of Graywolf Press, Saint Paul, MN. “Good Men” copyright © 2004 by Jennifer Weiner. First published by Red Dress Ink in 2004. “The Guy Not Taken” originally published in the October 2005 issue of Glamour magazine. “Tour of Duty” originally published in the October 1992 issue of Seventeen magazine. “Oranges from Florida” originally published in the October 1993 issue of Redbook magazine as “Someone to Trust.” “I Go Back to May 1937” copyright © 1987 by Sharon Olds, from The Gold Cell by Sharon Olds. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. References to WeddingWishes.com are granted by permission of WeddingWishes™. All rights reserved.
What if the one you love is the one who got away?
Rachel Blum and Andy Landis are just eight years old when they meet late one night in an ER waiting room. Born with a congenital heart defect, Rachel is a veteran of hospitals, and she's intrigued by the boy who shows up all alone with a broken arm. He tells her his name. She tells him a story. After Andy’s taken back to a doctor and Rachel’s sent back to her bed, they think they’ll never see each other again.
The Guy Not Taken Page 26