Ask the Author: Jennifer Weiner
Answered Questions (29)
Jennifer Weiner
It depends on the novel (and the editor, and my kids and my husband and what else is going on in my life). In general, on average, it takes about a year to go from idea to finished product. But MRS. EVERYTHING took years to write while BIG SUMMER came very quickly.
Jennifer Weiner
I have. I can’t promise a straight sequel, but I think those characters have a lot more to say and do, and I predict you’ll be seeing more of them – sooner rather than later.
Jennifer Weiner
True confession: I used to. I actually won a prize for my poetry, back in college. These days I read, and appreciate poetry, but I haven’t written any in a while. Maybe someday! (And for those of you who are looking for an easy way to get more poetry into your life, you can go to poets.org and sign up to get a poem a day in your inbox. They’ll send you everything from classics by the greats to new works by up-and-coming poets. It’s a wonderful way to start your day).
Jennifer Weiner
A few things. Beth from "Little Women" was a major inspiration for my Bethie -- a good girl who doesn't die, but who, instead, suffers through what the world can do to good girls. And this wasn't foremost on my mind while I was writing, but Beth is my sister's middle name.
Jennifer Weiner
My mom was the inspiration for Jo's character, but I didn't ask her too many questions -- or, rather, I asked, but she wouldn't answer! So it was a lot of my imagination, and a lot of observing my mom and her sister and her friends, and seeing how they lived their lives. I think they were the last generation where there was an unquestioned expectation that women would have families, and that their husbands and their kids would always come first, and that a career was something you fit in around the margins of being a wife and a mother. Women my age had many more choices...but that didn't always make things easy.
My mom was the inspiration for Jo's character, but I didn't ask her too many questions -- or, rather, I asked, but she wouldn't answer! So it was a lot of my imagination, and a lot of observing my mom and her sister and her friends, and seeing how they lived their lives. I think they were the last generation where there was an unquestioned expectation that women would have families, and that their husbands and their kids would always come first, and that a career was something you fit in around the margins of being a wife and a mother. Women my age had many more choices...but that didn't always make things easy.
Jennifer Weiner
Her mouth watered as she lifted the cookie, still oven-warm, to her lips. Too late, she realized that the chocolate chips were raisins.
Jennifer Weiner
I'd go to the world of "Little Women." Specifically, I would go to the scene where Professor Bhaer was telling Jo her "sensation stories" were dangerous trash. I'd tell her, "This is the patriarchy talking," and urge her to think hard about who profits from the diminishment of women's work. And if he kept talking I'd say, "Oh, you think you can judge her writing? Let's see you try to write something!" And while he was bent over his ink-blotted page, learning that easy reading = hard writing, I'd take Jo out for tea and tell her that he'd do fine as a rebound guy, but that marrying him would be a big mistake and that if she did she would spend the sequel running a school for boys, which, no. Just no.
Jennifer Weiner
This summer I discovered Blake Crouch, and loved RECURSION. BABY TEETH by Zoje Stage was super-creepy and hard to put down. Same with Angie Kim's MIRACLE CREEK. And I was eagerly awaiting the new Stephen King, and, of course, THE TESTAMENTS by Margaret Atwood!
Jennifer Weiner
It's rough. I have a daughter a little bit older than yours and I feel like, even though I try very hard to give her only positive messages about her body, she and her classmates seem to absorb anti-fatness on a cellular level. I think the most important thing I do is model an active lifestyle for my daughters -- they see me doing yoga and spinning and barre class and hiking. I try not to do a lot of judgment around my own body, or around (we talk about 'growing foods' or 'power foods' instead of saying things like "Oh, that's just junk" or "I can't believe I ate the whole thing!") I love People Magazine, but when the "Half Their Size" issue shows up, it goes right into the recycling bin. I don't want my girls getting the message that you're only valuable if you're managing to look a certain way or wear a certain size.
But I can't edit the entire world, or control what they see in movies or on TV. I wish there were better things to show them -- programs where there were bigger girls and women who were just allowed to characters, with love lives and conflicts, whose storylines did not revolve around weight loss. I seek those shows out and support them where I find them, and I try to move the ball forward, however incrementally, with my own work.
But I can't edit the entire world, or control what they see in movies or on TV. I wish there were better things to show them -- programs where there were bigger girls and women who were just allowed to characters, with love lives and conflicts, whose storylines did not revolve around weight loss. I seek those shows out and support them where I find them, and I try to move the ball forward, however incrementally, with my own work.
Jennifer Weiner
I can parallel park a minivan.
Jennifer Weiner
That’s such an interesting question, and you’re absolutely right. From the top of the bottom, women have all kinds of roles in publishing – they’re the agents, the editors, the publishers, the publicists and marketing people and the assistants who are going to become the agents, editors and publishers of the future.
Why, then, are the ‘great American novelists’ still mostly men? Why does it still feel like such an uphill value for women to get review attention, or win prizes, or just even be thought of the same way that men are thought of?
I think the answer goes to deep-seated internal biases. Think about the writers you read in high school and in college, the ones who made up the canon. If your schools were like mine, maybe you read a handful of women – Jane Austen or Virginia Woolf or Charlotte Bronte or Louisa May Alcott – but my guess is that the vast, vast majority of the authors you encountered were men. We all learned, in terms of what we heard and saw and what we didn’t hear and didn’t see, that excellence wore pants. That men exploring families and emotions was important, and women writing about those same topics were sentimental or domestic. And familiarity breeds more of the same – if Philip Roth won all those prizes and still wrote paper-thin stereotypical female characters, why wouldn’t the next generation of prizewinning male writers do the same thing?
Those biases are very deep-seated, and they affect the ways that books get packaged and marketed, how they’re described and how they’re sold. And when you’re a woman who’s making noise about the problem, it’s easy for people to write you off as jealous or delusional, and say that books by men and books by women are treated the same way. I’m very glad that there are organizations like Vida that actually count, and can say, “Hey, guess what, there are still literary magazines publishing and reviewing two times as many men as women. The New York Times is still giving out two reviews and a profile to more men than women.” I think that pointing out the disparities are the first step to getting things to change.
Why, then, are the ‘great American novelists’ still mostly men? Why does it still feel like such an uphill value for women to get review attention, or win prizes, or just even be thought of the same way that men are thought of?
I think the answer goes to deep-seated internal biases. Think about the writers you read in high school and in college, the ones who made up the canon. If your schools were like mine, maybe you read a handful of women – Jane Austen or Virginia Woolf or Charlotte Bronte or Louisa May Alcott – but my guess is that the vast, vast majority of the authors you encountered were men. We all learned, in terms of what we heard and saw and what we didn’t hear and didn’t see, that excellence wore pants. That men exploring families and emotions was important, and women writing about those same topics were sentimental or domestic. And familiarity breeds more of the same – if Philip Roth won all those prizes and still wrote paper-thin stereotypical female characters, why wouldn’t the next generation of prizewinning male writers do the same thing?
Those biases are very deep-seated, and they affect the ways that books get packaged and marketed, how they’re described and how they’re sold. And when you’re a woman who’s making noise about the problem, it’s easy for people to write you off as jealous or delusional, and say that books by men and books by women are treated the same way. I’m very glad that there are organizations like Vida that actually count, and can say, “Hey, guess what, there are still literary magazines publishing and reviewing two times as many men as women. The New York Times is still giving out two reviews and a profile to more men than women.” I think that pointing out the disparities are the first step to getting things to change.
Jennifer Weiner
Ack! Role model!
This goes back to the question of vulnerability, and suspension of disbelief. When I’m writing, I try not to think too much about how my books are going to be perceived, out there in the wild, and I just write as honestly as I can. I pretend that I’m talking to a good friend, over coffee, and I’m saying, This happened, and that happened, and some of it was awful, but I got through it okay.
There’s a quote I always think of, by the poet and activist Muriel Rukeyser, who asks, “What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.” It’s a lot easier to pretend, to put a flattering filter on a picture, or a positive spin on a Facebook post, and act like things are perfect…but does that leave anyone in a better place? I believe in telling the truth about my life, as much as I can, whether that means talking about my family, or posting a shot of myself in a swimsuit and saying this is my truth, because I believe that, when something has split open, when it’s broken, that’s when you have the chance to heal and repair and make things better. (But I still love a good filter on an Instagram picture!)
This goes back to the question of vulnerability, and suspension of disbelief. When I’m writing, I try not to think too much about how my books are going to be perceived, out there in the wild, and I just write as honestly as I can. I pretend that I’m talking to a good friend, over coffee, and I’m saying, This happened, and that happened, and some of it was awful, but I got through it okay.
There’s a quote I always think of, by the poet and activist Muriel Rukeyser, who asks, “What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.” It’s a lot easier to pretend, to put a flattering filter on a picture, or a positive spin on a Facebook post, and act like things are perfect…but does that leave anyone in a better place? I believe in telling the truth about my life, as much as I can, whether that means talking about my family, or posting a shot of myself in a swimsuit and saying this is my truth, because I believe that, when something has split open, when it’s broken, that’s when you have the chance to heal and repair and make things better. (But I still love a good filter on an Instagram picture!)
Jennifer Weiner
Thanks for reading WHO DO YOU LOVE! I’m a runner, too – a very slow, proud back-of-the-pack runner – but I loved the idea of running as a metaphor. We run away from things that hurt us, we run toward the things we want, and, sometimes, we just run around in circles.
For research, I read a LOT of runners’ memoirs – Dean Karnazas and Mo Farah’s books were favorites – and novels about running specifically, and the lives of elite athletes in general (Lionel Shriver’s DOUBLE FAULT is about tennis, but it’s also about how people whose careers rise and fall on the strength and agility of their bodies have to live). I spent a lot of time on runners’ websites, I interviewed actual runners, and coaches – no Olympians, alas, but people who’d been track stars in college. In the end, I took everything I’d learned and I tried to put myself in Andy’s head, and in his body, and imagine what it felt like to be him.
For research, I read a LOT of runners’ memoirs – Dean Karnazas and Mo Farah’s books were favorites – and novels about running specifically, and the lives of elite athletes in general (Lionel Shriver’s DOUBLE FAULT is about tennis, but it’s also about how people whose careers rise and fall on the strength and agility of their bodies have to live). I spent a lot of time on runners’ websites, I interviewed actual runners, and coaches – no Olympians, alas, but people who’d been track stars in college. In the end, I took everything I’d learned and I tried to put myself in Andy’s head, and in his body, and imagine what it felt like to be him.
Jennifer Weiner
In the world of fiction, we talk about ‘suspension of disbelief.’ Like, when I’m reading the GAME OF THRONES books, I am convincing myself that there were never actually dragons, or enchanted fiery swords, or guys who looked like Khal Drogo does on TV. Yes, I know the truth, but I am choosing to suspend that knowledge and enjoy my time in the fictional world.
When I’m writing, I practice a kind of suspension of disbelief, where I convince myself that no one is ever going to read what I’m writing. Yes, I know the truth, but I am trying as hard as I can to write as if it’s just me, telling a story to myself, and that if anyone’s going to read it, it’s going to be strangers, and not, you know, my brothers or my mom. That’s extra-true for the sex scenes!
When I’m writing, I practice a kind of suspension of disbelief, where I convince myself that no one is ever going to read what I’m writing. Yes, I know the truth, but I am trying as hard as I can to write as if it’s just me, telling a story to myself, and that if anyone’s going to read it, it’s going to be strangers, and not, you know, my brothers or my mom. That’s extra-true for the sex scenes!
Jennifer Weiner
I was a big reader growing up. I read a lot of YA books – everything by Judy Blume and Paula Danziger and books like The Mists of Avalon. I read mystery series -- Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden – and Harlequin romances by the boxful. I read everything by V.C. Andrews – not just “Flowers in the Attic,” but also its many, many sequels – and popular fiction by writers like Stephen King and Susan Isaacs and Jean Auel and Rita Mae Brown and Judith Krantz (if New York Times critic Dwight Garner wrote about hating it, chances are, I loved it!) My mother was, and is, in two different book clubs, so she was always bringing home books, and I’d usually end up at least taking a look.
Jennifer Weiner
LOL. I always joke that there is a word for writers who have elaborate pre-writing rituals, and can only write in rooms cooled to precisely 67 degrees with garbage bags taped over the windows and a white noise machine in the corner, and that word is ‘men.’
When you’re a working mother, I have learned, there’s a large part of the world that sees the ‘mother’ part in all caps, and the ‘working’ part as a minor appendage. The school assumes that you’re there to cover the half-day pickup and be available on snow days. The men in your life, the ones with full-time jobs, assume that you can schedule the doctor’s appointments and dentist’s visits and the check-ups at the orthodontist, and you’ll get the kids there and back, and that you’ll manage the family’s social calendar, booking the vacations and the playdates, that you’re the one who remembers to schedule the gutter cleaning in the fall and the duct cleaning in the spring…basically, the stuff they call emotional labor, all the things that does not look like ‘work’ becomes your job. (I should note two things here: first, that the men in my life are very good about doing their part, and second, I have a LOT of help, in the form of a fabulous assistant who helps with the household stuff, and a woman who cleans my house and does the laundry four days a week).
Which is a very long way of saying that a lot of my rituals and processes have become, by necessity, internal.
I think about my characters while I am walking the dog, or waiting in the carpool lane, or driving to pick up my older daughter at her school, which is forty-five minutes away. I think about the plot while I’m in the shower, or waiting for my younger daughter at the orthodontist’s, or while I’m supposed to be thinking of nothing in yoga class. I definitely make outlines, which give me at least a rough road map for what’s supposed to happen, even if what actually does happen always ends up surprising me, and I have used notecards, when I’m dealing with three or four main characters and three or four decades of their lives, but, in general, I end up keeping it all in my head. Which means that when I can sit down to write – in my closet/office, or in a hotel room, or an airport – the characters and the story are all there, waiting for me.
In terms of specifics, I use Microsoft Word, which is what I’ve used since college. I write on an Apple laptop, because it’s portable and light. And, while I don’t make sacrifices to the writing gods, I like to write with my little rat terrier Moochie snoozing on the floor or on her dog bed, somewhere nearby.
When you’re a working mother, I have learned, there’s a large part of the world that sees the ‘mother’ part in all caps, and the ‘working’ part as a minor appendage. The school assumes that you’re there to cover the half-day pickup and be available on snow days. The men in your life, the ones with full-time jobs, assume that you can schedule the doctor’s appointments and dentist’s visits and the check-ups at the orthodontist, and you’ll get the kids there and back, and that you’ll manage the family’s social calendar, booking the vacations and the playdates, that you’re the one who remembers to schedule the gutter cleaning in the fall and the duct cleaning in the spring…basically, the stuff they call emotional labor, all the things that does not look like ‘work’ becomes your job. (I should note two things here: first, that the men in my life are very good about doing their part, and second, I have a LOT of help, in the form of a fabulous assistant who helps with the household stuff, and a woman who cleans my house and does the laundry four days a week).
Which is a very long way of saying that a lot of my rituals and processes have become, by necessity, internal.
I think about my characters while I am walking the dog, or waiting in the carpool lane, or driving to pick up my older daughter at her school, which is forty-five minutes away. I think about the plot while I’m in the shower, or waiting for my younger daughter at the orthodontist’s, or while I’m supposed to be thinking of nothing in yoga class. I definitely make outlines, which give me at least a rough road map for what’s supposed to happen, even if what actually does happen always ends up surprising me, and I have used notecards, when I’m dealing with three or four main characters and three or four decades of their lives, but, in general, I end up keeping it all in my head. Which means that when I can sit down to write – in my closet/office, or in a hotel room, or an airport – the characters and the story are all there, waiting for me.
In terms of specifics, I use Microsoft Word, which is what I’ve used since college. I write on an Apple laptop, because it’s portable and light. And, while I don’t make sacrifices to the writing gods, I like to write with my little rat terrier Moochie snoozing on the floor or on her dog bed, somewhere nearby.
Jennifer Weiner
I definitely plan on finishing the trilogy within the next year or two. Thanks for reading!
Jennifer Weiner
Opinion writing is actually a return to my roots: all through college, and then when I was a newspaper reporter, I was writing columns. What happened with the Times was serendipity. My Nanna moved into an assisted-living home and was struggling to fit in. After a phone call with her, I tweeted, "Can't believe there are mean girls in my Nanna's retirement home." A Times editor saw the tweet and said, "You have to write about this." So I did, and the piece was well received, and the editors asked me to write more, and here we are. I love having an outlet for my thoughts about family and feminism and beauty and body issues and it's nice to have a balance between the real world and make-believe.
Jennifer Weiner
I have a lot of favorite re-reads. They're like comfort food, something warm and embracing that will take me to another place for a little while. I go back to my favorite Susan Isaacs books, ALMOST PARADISE and SHINING THROUGH a lot. I discovered Susan Isaacs in high school and she became an instant favorite, and a role model in terms of the kind of stories I wanted to tell. In the summers, I'll take Judith Krantz to the beach. You can't beat SCRUPLES and PRINCESS DAISY...or Stephen King's THE STAND. And my new favorite thing is re-reading my childhood favorites before handing them off to my daughters. From A WRINKLE IN TIME to the "Great Brain" books, it's been a pleasure to rediscover my old first loves.
Jennifer Weiner
I'm so glad you liked WDYL! I don't have a sequel planned right now, but it's very possible that Rachel and Andy will start speaking to me again (or make a cameo in a different novel). One never knows.
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