The Books That Are Making Me a Writer
How Reading Cheryl, Glennon, and Others Help Me Find My Voice
When I look around my writing room, I don’t see rows of books lining shelves or piles stacked in every corner. No spines jut out from cramped spaces, their lopsided titles forming crooked rooftops over the stories within. There’s no color-coordinated display for Instagram, no library-like backdrop to pose against. I own exactly 24 books. I counted; it didn’t take long.
It doesn’t look like a writer works here. In fact, my senior-year writing teacher told me I wasn’t a writer. I stood in front of her, staring at the C on my English literature paper, looking up in shock. “You’re close friends with Tina, right? Have you read her work? Try writing a bit more like her.” I can’t remember what the essay was about, but I somehow combined Dostoevsky and Disney. I thought it was creative! And I loved the story I wove—until I saw that red, curved single letter at the top. So I tried to write like others after that. Sound more like “real” writers.
A few years ago, I decided I had a story to tell. And because I still wasn’t a writer, I would emulate those who were. Tina is still my best friend, and I asked her for her favorite books—My Brilliant Friend series by Elena Ferrante. I started there. There’s a scene where the narrator describes her best friend getting ready for her wedding day. I wanted to use the sounds of water dripping on copper and the description of untouched skin in my work. I copied, tweaked, and then changed the words till they fit my story. And what struck me most wasn’t the sentences themselves but that this story about the narrator was told by putting someone else in the spotlight. My book would do that, too! I kept saving notes onto my Kindle until there were so many I ordered used copies of Ferrante’s four books and placed them proudly on my desk.
But I want to write a commercial success. I don’t deny it—I’m not a writer, after all. I’m a marketer. That’s been my actual job since graduation 20 years ago. I’m a storyteller. And I can sell stuff. So, I read books that sold millions of copies—first Wild by Cheryl Strayed, the story of a woman escaping grief through adventure. I thought of how to ground my story in a daring adventure. I borrowed her approach, the way she starts with her reflections from the Pacific Crest Trail back to the hospital room. That was the fifth book I bought.
The sixth was a used copy of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I’d listened to the audiobook at least twice (and watched the movie more than that). Another story of a woman leaving her husband to find herself. I don’t need to leave my marriage to find adventure and I don’t want that for my readers either. I focused on how she organized her book—indulgence, reflection, and enlightenment. Or that’s how I read it, the three parts of her book, like three steps to take. I thought long and hard about the steps I wanted my readers to take. I bought a much-loved copy at an estate sale.
More often than words, the stories stay with me. After the 65th agent had rejected my book proposal for A Memoir of an Open Marriage, I stopped submitting and read. Well, I listened and relistened to my favorite stories. Books are my escape, especially the realms of dragons, fae, and vampires. I devoured Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas, inhaled Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros, and lost myself in Outlander by Diana Gabaldon—series I loved that suddenly made me… angry. These were love stories about soulmates across realms and time, all revolving around the idea of “the one.” This is the antithesis of my story about open marriage. I didn’t want love based on destiny. I wanted something that showed the grit of making a long-term marriage work. So I went looking for those stories.
I reread Poldark by Winston Graham, a story about the messiness of love—a man who falls for two women but stays married to one. Then I read The Night and Its Moon by C.J. Piper, the first time I’d seen a modern fantasy romance that didn’t treat soulmates like property. It introduced bisexuality and polyamory, and it was what I needed to start writing again.
My second draft of a book proposal brought me back to the experts who guided me when I opened up my relationship. I recommend The State of Affairs by Esther Perel to anyone in any relationship so often I can directly quote the book. “Monogamy used to be one person for life. Now, monogamy is one person at a time.” I bought both her books and Polysecure and Polywise from Jessica Fern new on Amazon. The pages now glow with highlighter. I knew I wanted my next book idea to share stories from my open marriage–but filled with advice for anyone in any relationship style.
And that idea… that idea an agent was interested in.
I dove deep into Melissa Febbos's words, rereading Whip Smart in detail. Closing my eyes, I read her passages in a dungeon as a dominatrix, taking strength from hers.
I bought Greedy by Jen Winston and laughed out loud, reminding myself to stay light and joyful when I wrote.
I pulled out Untamed by Glennon Doyle. Her voice is much stronger, bolder, and more direct than mine. I need to speak directly to my reader. Untamed spoke to millions of women who felt tamed and trapped in their roles as wives and mothers. Readers didn’t need to divorce or identify as queer to unleash their truest, wildest selves. Readers of my book won’t need to open their own marriages to feel empowered to set boundaries and pursue their desires. I’ll show them how to cultivate an exciting, fulfilling “open commitment” within their existing relationships.
And on days when I stare at my computer and don’t know where to start, I look around my desk—the small stack of books on one side, a few more next to my bed. I’ve since added The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick, Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody, and Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott to my growing collection. I flip to a random page in one of these books, copy a word or a line until their words become mine, become part of my story, and then I keep going. I may not have a vast collection, but every book of the 24 here represents a chapter in my journey to find my own voice on the page. Because I’m not yet a writer. But I’m writing.
