Why Writing Matters

... and why I REALLY do everything I do

You guys, I am in it.

I need to finish a draft of my next novel OVERHEARD by the end of July. (Do I sound like my character Pippa from BLANK?!) I’ve had two days recently where I’ve written 3,000 words in giant bursts of productivity, but then other days I get distracted with things like… my job.

Yesterday, I was reading what I’d written so far out loud to Kyle — who thought of a great new ending! Full credit to him this time! — and after I finished he asked, “So, how many words are you at now?”

“Fifteen thousand,” I said.

“How many do you need? Twenty thousand?”

“No! Sixty thousand.”

“What!?!!?”

This happened with BLANK, too. Kyle and I were out to dinner last night with Zibby Books author Joselyn Takacs, celebrating the release of her beautiful, literary novel PEARCE OYSTERS, which came out Tuesday, and Katrina Leno, our Zibby’s Bookshop manager and author of eight books herself.

Katrina reminded me of this and said, “You really seem to need to get right up to the deadline to write.”

“Only fiction, though!” I said. “With everything else, I can get it done on time no problem!”

Why is this? I have no clue.

What happened with BLANK — and what seems to be happening again — is that I write a first draft very quickly to meet my publisher’s deadline, but it ends up being half the length of a real book. Then, I go back and layer in several big subplots, braiding them together with twists and turns along the way.

I remember being on an airplane when I thought of what would happen at a particular open house in BLANK and gasped. It hadn’t been part of my first draft. It wasn’t part of the original outline. But it tied everything together.

Well, as I sit here before that’s happened, I feel panicked. I know it will. I know I need to trust the process. I think about the hundreds of authors I’ve interviewed on Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books and remember all of their fabulous advice to keep going, keep writing, get in the document, let the magic happen.

But writing is a leap of faith. It’s banking of creativity which isn’t linear and doesn’t adhere to, say, deadlines. For something interesting to happen in my book, I need to have my fingers on the keys. I can think of it when I’m not writing — and sometimes, I do — but once I get typing, things happen. I sat down to write a particular scene yesterday and ended up writing something entirely different which had me chuckling.

All of this makes me think: why am I doing this?!

Why write another novel? Why write at all? It certainly isn’t because there are a lack of options out there. More books come out each week than anyone can possibly read. Do I really need to add my own story to the mix? No.

So what’s it all for?!

I write novels to achieve the same mission I’ve set for my entire company: to improve people’s lives. That sounds a bit grandiose, but go with me here.

When I think about the big why of my work, it’s to be helpful. It’s to make people think and feel. To connect people. Our stated goal at Zibby Media is to deepen the connections between readers, authors, and each other.

But the bigger reason is to make people feel like they’re a part of something. That they aren’t alone in this big, crazy world. That their innermost thoughts and feelings are validated. That they’re not alone. And that makes people feel good.

My goal is to connect people because those connections make people happier. It’s to entertain readers while they’re actually reading, yes, but also to find books that stick with them afterwards and help them see the world in a better way. It’s to help people forge new relationships on retreats and events and in book club and in the bookstore so that they feel accepted, understood, included. It’s the same reason why friendship itself is important. A book is the greatest friend there is.

I was telling Kyle, Joselyn and Katrina a story last night about my trip to Frost Valley when I was fourteen years old, a mandatory overnight for all incoming freshman to my high school. I had so much social anxiety that I literally couldn’t speak. That used to happen to me all the time. (I think all that time not being able to speak when I would simply analyze conversation patterns has helped my writing and listening. But anyway.)

At dinner at the long cafeteria table at Frost Valley, the program leader asked for a moment of silence. A tall, blonde at the other end of my table said snidely in front of everyone, “Well, that shouldn’t be hard for you, Zibby.” Everyone laughed.

Do I want to do all this because I haven’t always felt included myself? Perhaps. Is it because of all the times I’ve cried, like when I was alone in my dorm room those first few weeks of college, when I hadn’t yet found my people and was too embarrassed to walk across campus alone to go to dinner, so stayed in my room and ate dry cereal instead?

Maybe.

Perhaps I want to spare people from the emotion that has been the hardest for me to bear at different points in my life: loneliness.

That ache that wraps me up like a scratchy blanket and feels like it will never come off. The pain I’d feel walking down the street on a beautiful day in New York when I was single and seeing all those other people eating at outdoor tables, laughing, when I didn’t have any plans that night… or seeing groups of moms and strollers when I was pushing mine alone… or even now, seeing groups of people on Instagram out at fun parties or taking girls trips that I wasn’t invited to. Not that I could’ve gone. But it would’ve been nice to be included.

Maybe that’s why I do it all. Because I know deeply how it feels to feel excluded and so I’ve dedicated my life to helping others feel included. I host parties and dinners and retreats to gather nice people who are kind to each other.

My novel now shines a light on what happens when people are unkind to each other and the toll it takes. I’m writing it through the lens of cancel culture and how I take issue with that as an accepted practice. But what I’m really getting at is the need to simply be kind. To be inclusive. To help others get through hard times.

And this is a hard time in the world. Uncertain. Unsettling. Devastating.

So I offer up a funny story in a novel that lets people see a part of themselves and think, “Oh. Yes! This!” I curate books for the podcast and for my bookstore and to publish that do the same thing. To make people feel less alone in this big, scary world.

I want everyone out there in “the Zibby-verse” to wake up knowing that no matter what else is going on in their lives, they are a part of something: a community of like-minded, nice people who care about other people and enjoy the healing power of a heart-to-heart, whether it’s with another person themselves or reading it or listening to a conversation between others who are bonding.

Isn’t that what fiction does best? It’s an opportunity to open the door to an intimate conversation that after you inhale it, you feel lighter. You feel understood yourself and understand others. And that makes you go out and be kind.

So as I pound the keys to get to the end of the too-short, first draft of my next novel, I know deep down why this little story matters and why everyone’s story matters. Because it’s an olive leaf, extended. It’s like a coffee date. In the grand scheme of life, how much does any one coffee date with a close friend or a new acquaintance matter? It matters because it’s when we let our humanity slip out. It’s when we emote. When we understand and empathize and hug and smile.

I could listen to people tell stories all day (and some days, I do!) — in person, on podcast interviews, through their memoirs. Why? By knowing other people deeply, we know ourselves better and feel like we belong. Books are what do that best. No leaving the house. No coordination. No physical meet-up. The barrier disappears and we connect immediately, even when we’re physically alone.

That’s why every book matters: because the sum total of all books we’ve read and all the conversations we’ve had make us who we are and make our limited time here better.

That’s why I write.

That’s what Zibby Media is all about.

Making our limited time here better. Together. Through stories. Through words. Through conversations. Through sharing what we’ve been through and linking arms to get through what’s next.

Each scene I write isn’t just 1,000 words on a page. It’s an offering. A way to open my arms wide and bring others into the fold, to make readers laugh and gets them out of their own head and, by so doing, helps them go back into it fortified.

Ultimately, none of us are really alone, no matter how lonely we may feel, even when we’re loneliest surrounded by others. We’re in it together. And we can come together to get through it by just picking up a book.

The message of my next novel is to be kind and forgiving. The goal of my career is to elevate and scale that message by lifting up countless other books and stories. I’ll keep letting go of balloon after balloon after balloon, one at a time, until the sky is filled and we can all look up and see a world blanketed in bright colors.

It’s not about books.

It’s about us.