Cute platitude, huh? But really the two are quite similar. Both require more commitment than anyone who hasn’t been married (or written a book) can imagine. Both require more work than is reasonably possible. Both can be more infuriating—and more rewarding—than just about anything else we will ever experience.
We begin our romance, our thriller, our cozy, with dreams and high hopes. Whether we start with a scene in our head or a complete beginning/middle/end idea, we can almost see the story stretch out before us. Maybe we have none of that, just an thought that we endeavor to flesh out in the writing.
A ceremony is not a book, a routine is
Like marriage, the bright-day’s promise that comes with inspiration gives way to the work necessary to shape it into a coherent story. That scene, dialogue, and/or plot is not a story. The outline is not a story.
It takes months, (in my case years) to shape that inspiration into a cogent story with a minimum of plot/logic holes. The process takes attention and the aforementioned commitment. Neglect the work and the story will be weak. Or worse, it will never be finished.
If you neglect your spouse, your marriage will atrophy and probably die. Hyperbole? Nah. While divorce has declined from the “Me Generation” 1970s and 80s, 34-40% of all marriages will end in divorce.
Like failed (unfinished) books, failed marriages have myriad causes. Money (as in the lack thereof) and kids (usually the reason for the lack of money) rank at the top for both. You can probably name more causes than I can. The only one that really matters to me is people stop trying.
When we stop doing the work—a husband, a wife, a writer—when we stop showing up, we stop being a spouse, or a writer.
In an NPR profile of acclaimed short-story writer Thom Jones, the presenter stated, (and I paraphrase badly) Thom would’ve liked to write novels but he had a family…bills to pay, a house to maintain, and bicycles to assemble for the kids.
Just as marriages suffer in the day-to-day struggle of time-demands and tedium, just as love dies in stagnant habits, so does our written work.
But only if we allow it.
A nation of two becomes a nation of one
My wife is a two-time-breast-cancer survivor. That means for the last four-plus years, we have been united in a battle against the second-leading cause of death for women in America.
Plans to remodel our house went on instant and indefinite hiatus. So did our individual goals. Gaye shelved plans for another degree. I haven’t done any meaningful fiction-writing in four years.
In the absence of family, I am her person. That’s my most important job. If I never publish a word as a result I consider it a fair trade. But “not right now,” doesn’t have to be “never.”
“Only when love and need are one…” Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time
As one of Frost’s most beloved poems suggests, work for pay is fine but when the work is both for need and for satisfaction is it meaningful. Which applies as much to marriage as it does to writing.
We have a basic division of labor. I handle the kitchen, bathrooms, and the laundry. My wife handles the floors, furniture, and dusting. And there is at least a dozen unlisted/unassigned chores that we fall into as an understanding of this is what we do.
The horrific diagnosis we received in 2022 refocused the purpose of the chores. I kept us fed but a steam-cleaning service will have to address my neglect of the grout. Further, I promise that there are spots in our house that have not been dusted since 2022. Nature is taking my garden back. And our yard ranks worst on our block.
Most importantly, in the course of our battle, we nearly lost each other. It happens. On my own blog site, I’ve written about cancer and relationship breakdowns.
Unwilling to accept losing what we have had for 20-plus years, we’re in therapy. We’re doing the work to move beyond survival-mode and back to our grand adventure.
That’s what’s important: living. She’s alive and we both want to live the life we’ve built. For her that means resuming her academic pursuits. For me it means writing.
So, just as I’m doing the work to strengthen my marriage. I’m doing the work to re-establish my writing routine. Rather than an hour in the gym, I’ve whittled it down to 30 minutes. Likewise, my goof-off online time is on the chopping block.
Prioritizing therapy over TV/reading time is what our marriage needs. Prioritizing writing along side my other coping mechanisms is what I need. Mostly, I need crime fiction in my life to counter the absurdity of the "real" world.
So, I’m not giving up on my story or the dozen-others that pester me to “get down” on paper. Like the best part of marriage, the call to write is both love and need.
I do not own the image above. It is used here for educational/illustrative purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.
