November | 2013 | Lydia Laceby

Last weekend Mr. Z and I wandered up north for a few days of relaxation and a unexpected marathon of Downton Abbey (Seasons 1 & 2), and when Saturday turned into the loveliest November day ever, we wandered outside. Thankfully he remembered the camera and I wandered along behind him, mostly not watching for moose. Or bobcats. Or cougars. Or wolves. I was happily snapping photos instead.

I had begun to worry in the weeks prior that my writing mojo had evapourated and that my first novel was a fluke. I couldn’t seem to get into Book Two. But that afternoon it came roaring back. Sometimes it takes a little something different to jump start us, so now I know to grab my camera and head out for a long walk when I’m feeling blocked. Here are a few of my finds.

And for all you doubters, we’d just had rain so were lucky enough to find some evidence of the creatures surrounding us…that wasn’t always in dung form.

Not only did I break up with a boy who was absolutely not “The One” because of Jennifer Weiner, but she also attending my recent wedding with “The One”.

Sorry, I skipped ahead a bit. I’ll start at the beginning…

You can’t read women’s fiction without knowing her name. You can’t write women’s fiction and not know her name. And you definitely shouldn’t watch The Bachelor without monitoring her hilarious tweets.

My introduction to Jennifer Weiner came thirteen years ago during a bookstore browse where I happened across her debut novel, Good in Bed, displayed on a table. The title snatched my attention (how could it not?), the synopsis drew me in, and I grasped the book in my hands in debate. It was a hardcover. I had very little money at the time. Negative money, if we’re being honest. But there was something about the book, and I found myself unable to set it back down. After a quick ping-pong back and forth in my mind, I walked back to my boyfriend with the book tucked under my arm.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked.
“A book!” I said, holding it out. “It looks great. I can’t wait to read it!”
His eyes narrowed as he pulled it out of my hands and put it down on the closest table. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t afford this. You don’t have any money.”
I snatched it back, stalked off to the cashier, and used more negative money to buy it.

It was the best book investment I ever made.

Two of my BFF’s and I all read it twice within a year, and then I passed the book onto another friend who devoured it before giving it to her sister. That copy never made it home. I did, however, buy another which I kept and have subsequently read over the years.

The boy became history shortly after the bookstore incident. Thank you, Jennifer Weiner! He didn’t understand my love of books. He didn’t get me. And he definitely didn’t do himself any favours by once saying “What am I, the bank of David?”* at some ridiculous one dollar item like a bottle of water when I was thirsty and couldn’t find a bank machine. Although I like to think I would have been smart enough to figure it out eventually, thank you for saving me from this very bad man via both the book purchase illuminating his bad boyfriend behaviour and for your wonderful heroine who I’m sure also encouraged me to get his balls rolling, I mean the ball rolling.

Even more important than breaking up with Mr. Tight Wad and passing on a phenomenal, inspiring novel to friends (it still remains one of my favorites to this day), Good in Bed reignited my passion for writing, for the genre that would come to be known as chick lit, particularly the more serious side of it. As much as I loved Bridget Jones’s Diary, a novel that also inspired me to write, and all the other light and fluffy pink covered books out there at the time about shopping and shoes, I adored Good in Bed even more. I loved how serious the novel was amidst the humour, how real. It was smart and funny and it made me think about life and reading and especially writing in a whole new way. Thank you again.

Okay, so maybe I was stretching the truth a bit earlier when I said Jennifer Wiener attended my wedding. She wasn’t actually there in person. She was, however, there in book form. At some point I took my wedding and made it bookish. I think I’ve mentioned this in another post before – do NOT google ‘a bookish wedding’ two months prior to your nuptials. A disaster of epic re-planning proportions will ensue.

Here’s a photo of our place cards which were handwritten library cards fanned out in two books, one of which was Jennifer Weiner’s novel, In Her Shoes. While a bit sad about defacing the book, I’m happy to report that it still sits on my entrance table and holds mail and other bits and bobs that need a home.