The Next Best Thing (50 page)

“If I had a chance to do exactly the show I wanted? If I had a guarantee that I could cast whoever I wanted, that I’d have final cut? Are you kidding?” He looked so handsome with his faintly freckled skin, his light-brown hair; and I loved him so much, his calm, steady nature, his good humor, his competence and even temper, his strength. “I can’t believe you did this. I think you’re amazing.”

I smiled at him. “Do I have to decide right now?”

Dave considered, looking at me more intently. “I bet it can wait an hour or two.”

“Come to bed,” I said, and a few minutes later we were chest to chest, face to face, with his lips on mine, with the covers over our heads, in a world we’d made for two. Let the process servers ring the doorbell, let my in-box overflow, let the the agents and managers and reporters call until my voice mail was too full to even take their messages. For the next little while, I had everything I wanted, right in this bed.

A
s hard as it is for me to believe, what you hold in your hands is my tenth book . . . the tenth book I’ve written with the help and encouragement and guidance of my wonderful agent, Joanna Pulcini, and my amazing editor, Greer Hendricks.

All those years ago, when I was a young woman with a full-time job and a manuscript for a book called
Good in Bed,
I remember hoping that some agent somewhere would be interested, and that she’d be able to get some editor somewhere to bite. I could never have imagined ending up as part of such a great team, with two smart, funny women who became not just colleagues but friends.

I am also lucky enough to be published by some of the best in the business: Judith Curr, publisher of Atria Books, and Carolyn Reidy, CEO and president of Simon & Schuster.

Marcy Engelman, my publicist, is another woman I was lucky to find, and am lucky to have in my corner and call my friend. She and Dana Gidney Fetaya and Emily Gambir work so hard to make sure the world knows about my books, and I’m so impressed by them, and grateful for everything they do.

Special thanks to Greer’s assistant, Sarah Cantin, and Joanna’s assistant, Katherine Hennes, for their patience and enthusiasm,
and to the team at Atria, who publish me so well: Chris Lloreda, Lisa Sciambra, Craig Dean, Lisa Keim, Hillary Tisman, and Julia Scribner.

Nancy Inglis has the ungrateful task of copyediting my books and saving me from myself. Anna Dorfman gave this book its beautiful cover, and my friend Andrea Cipriani Mecchi, who takes my author photos, somehow makes me look good, too.

At Simon & Schuster UK, I’m grateful for the support of Suzanne Baboneau, Ian Chapman, Maxine Hitchcock, and Nigel Stoneman.

Jessica Bartolo and her team at Greater Talent Network make my speaking engagements a joy. I am also grateful to the fine work of DriveSavers Data Recovery in Novato, California, especially Chris Lyons, Joe Novoa, and Bodhi Nadler. Fellow writers—if you ever turn on your computer on Deadline Day, only to be greeted with a gray screen, a question mark, and an ominous clicking noise, these guys will save your life.

On the West Coast, I am grateful to the executives at ABC Studios and ABC Family, who let me explore the world of television, and to the writers, cast, and crew of the short-lived and deeply missed
State of Georgia,
who gave me a chance and an education. This book is dedicated to my brothers Jake and Joe, who handle my Hollywood business and take care of me as if I was their sister.

Anyone who is lucky enough to spend ten minutes in her company knows that my assistant, Meghan Burnett, is cheerful and funny and kind. She and Terri Gottlieb, who takes care of my daughters when she’s not performing miracles in the kitchen and the garden, make my writing life a pleasure.

I’m grateful to the support of my family and my friends, in real life and online. I owe a special debt to Bill Syken, who
helped me find the perfect happy ending. To everyone who reads my books, indulges my tweets about
The Bachelor,
or takes the time to visit my Facebook page, keep up with my blog posts, or read my short stories, my deepest thanks. None of this would be possible without you.

Jennifer Weiner

ATRIA
BOOKS

A Conversation with Jennifer Weiner

      
1. This is your tenth book. How has your writing process changed since your debut,
Good in Bed
?

Honestly, the process—the sit-in-the-chair-and-write-it—hasn’t changed much. What has changed is I’m now the mother of two—a preschooler and a grade-schooler—and I fit my work around their schedule. I have a LOT of help—a babysitter and an assistant—but I’ve also been known to take my laptop to Little Gym, wave at my daughter through the window as she runs by, then type again, then wave again, then type some more . . . so it’s less about the logistics of storytelling than it is about time management.

      
2. You were the co-creator and co-executive producer of the ABC Family show,
State of Georgia
. How did this experience affect your approach to
The Next Best Thing
?

State of Georgia
made me realize what a charmed and lucky life I’ve led . . . at least professionally.

I’m an Aries (if you believe in astrology) and an oldest child (if you believe in birth order). I set goals for myself. I wanted to work for a big paper by the time I was twenty-five, and was hired by the
Philadelphia Inquirer
with four months to spare. I wanted a column by the time I was twenty-eight, and got that. I wanted to sell a novel by the time I was thirty, and missed that deadline—but just by six weeks. I didn’t have any hopes for the book becoming a bestseller—I knew how rare that was, and how few writers get to support themselves with their writing—but I wanted to write, as one of my professors told me, the story I was born to tell, the book that I wanted to be on the shelf and couldn’t find. Whether it sold twelve copies, and eight of them were bought by my fellow Weight Watchers, was up to fate, not me. . . . I’d just write the best book I could, and hope for the best . . . and if the best meant I could walk into a bookshelf, point out my book and say, “I wrote that,” I’d be very happy.

So . . . I wrote the best books I could. The first one stayed on the bestseller list for almost a year. The second one became a major motion picture. The third—and every book since—hit the
Times
list in hardcover. My 2009 book,
Best Friends Forever,
was a number-one bestseller. I quit my day job and got to stay home and do the thing I loved. I succeeded beyond any dream I’d ever had of success.

So, when Hollywood came calling, I thought, Of course! This will be great! A chance to learn new skills, to have a new job! Best of all, a chance to tell a story about a big girl who gets her happy ending, the great clothes and guys and lines without having to get skinny! A girl who changes the world, instead of letting the world change her! A girl who can be a beacon, shining for all the girls who look more like Melissa McCarthy than Miley Cyrus!

ABC Family felt like the perfect place to do it (although it was tough, explaining to my Nanna the difference between ABC and ABC Family, which is their cable outlet). I have daughters, and I wanted to tell those stories in a place where young girls would see them . . . where they could turn on the set and see someone who looked like them being the star of the show. I had no idea that the woman the network would cast didn’t want to be “that girl” any more, and would fight us every step of the way about wearing the padding it took to get her to look even remotely non–model-sized.

I never imagined that I’d fail, and fail so spectacularly . . . that I’d want to do the story of a plus-size woman trying to make it on Broadway with an unknown actress, and that the network would want to do it with a name-brand star . . . who’d lost thirty pounds since the last time she’d been on TV. I didn’t know they’d insist on a laugh track, or hand-pick our protagonist’s co-star, or want the kind of broad physical humor in each episode that I was—how to put this?—not a fan of.

State of Georgia
lasted nine episodes, and I’m proud of the writing in every single one of them. Each episode has a joke, or a moment, or a scene, or a bit of dialogue, that I’m proud of . . . but it got canceled anyhow. And I learned that it got canceled via the Internet, as opposed to anyone from the network calling to tell me. It was awful. But the thing about failure is this: if it doesn’t kill you, it teaches you things. It makes you humble. It reminds you that not everything you touch turns to gold. And, if there’s ever a next time for me and television, maybe there will be a happier ending. Or not. One of the things I learned about Hollywood is that so much of what happens out there depends on luck, and timing.

So, for now, I’m content to write books that star the kind of characters you don’t see on TV —the girls who wear double-digit sizes, who are more beloved for their wit than their pretty faces, who get the guy, and save the day, because they’re funny and smart, not pretty. And if I have another book made into a movie, or another TV show picked up? I’ll hope for the best . . . but expect the worst.

      
3. Ruth first appeared in your writing as the protagonist of “Swim,” a short story you included in
The Guy Not Taken
. What was it like for you to revisit this character? What drew you back to her?

I always like to write about women at a moment of change or crisis in their lives—that moment that’s full of both possibility and peril, where every choice you make is going to have lifelong resonance. Ruth is twenty-eight, single, in love with a man she believes has no interest in her other than a professional one, and a face that she’s ashamed of. She’s so broken, and so brave. She uses her sarcasm as a shield, but instead, she’s such a marshmallow, and she just wants to be loved. Not all of my characters stick with me when the story or the novel’s done, but Ruth did. I thought about what happened to her, and I wanted to tel her story more completely, and give her a happy ending.

      
4. The Next Best Thing
is your first novel to take place almost entirely in Los Angeles. How does it compare, as a setting, to the Northeastern cities you have written about?

I wish I had something super-original to say, but all the clichés about LA are true: the weather’s gorgeous, the traffic’s a nightmare, there’s a lot of Botox and implants and worrying about aging and it’s not necessarily the best place to raise daughters. Not all of it was bad—I went out there with my children and my sister and my mom, and we rented a big house in Los Feliz with a pool and a hot tub and an orchard with lemon and plum and apricot and avocado trees. I loved the way the air smelled, and that it was never humid (my hair never looked better!). I hated the car culture, and how rare it was to see people walk anywhere, and the tiny parking spots in the Whole Foods parking lot, and how, sometimes in the pickup lane at my three-year-old’s playschool, there would be paparazzi, because a famous comedian’s daughter went there, too. Also, I once ate a hemp bagel. I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed back on the east coast after that. I think, deep down, I knew that Hollywood was not going to be my forever place. But I’m a swimmer, and I loved writing about characters who could swim all the time!

      
5. In the popular imagination, Hollywood is defined by beautiful people. However, you have chosen two physically “imperfect” people as your protagonists. Why was this important to you? How did this change the way you told your story?

I’m always interested in ugly ducklings, men and women. Beautiful people have so many advantages. People make assumptions about them—that they’re good, that they’re smart, that they’re honest—just because of how they look . . . and that’s more true than anyplace in Hollywood. One of the prettiest women I met out there was sweet as pie to my face when the show was on the air . . . and as nasty to me as you could believe on social media once the show was canceled and I couldn’t do anything to help her anymore (I don’t think she knows about my brother the film producer. Heh). I guess I just think that “imperfect” people have to work harder to get what comes more easily to their beautiful friends and siblings and colleagues . . . and, as a writer, I’m interested in people who have to work harder to get what they want. It gives me more of a story to tell. (For example, I am currently obsessed with broken, brilliant Tyrion Lannister in the
Game of Thrones
books)