For those of you who don’t already know, Emilie Ryan consists of a partnership between two best friends and life partners. This fact alone raises a number of eyebrows, which is almost always followed by a question along the lines of: “How do you write with a life partner without killing each other?”
Well, we suppose the short answer is the knife blades weren’t sharp enough! Seriously, writing a novel can pose enough of a challenge in its own right without throwing a life partner in the mix, not to mention relationship dynamics.
At the same time, writing with a partner has taken us places, both literally and figuratively, we wouldn’t have otherwise gone, especially from a creative vantage point. Without naming guilty parties, one of us has relative strengths in terms of logic, linear thinking, and planning. By way of contrast, the other has relative strengths with respect to imagination, intuition, and art.
Although we could easily frame this in terms of left- and right-brains, we’re not going to open that can of worms because the science behind this distinction remains weak. Saying that, going down that route might indeed make for an interesting post…
Coming back to our relative strengths, that does not mean one of us fumbles around when it comes to creativity and the other trips and stumbles when it comes to rationality. In fact, we both contribute in both regards, but we do this in very different ways, which stands as one of the main points of this post.
In more concrete terms, one half of our team shines when it comes to planning stories, laying out energetic markers, and making sure everything works from a birds-eye view, that is, from 30,000 feet in the air, so to speak. The other half of our partnership shines in terms of putting pen to paper, creating characters, and delving into emotional and sensual experiences. To extend the analogy of height, this type of writing occurs more on the ground level.
What allows our team to function best could be captured in one word: RESPECT. For some reason, that always makes us think about Aretha Franklin and her chart-topping hit from 1967, as well as the original version of the song written by the late and great Otis Redding.
By respect, we mean respect for the other person, which goes without saying—if more people respected each other in terms of individuality, diversity, freedom of choice, culture, and so on, the world would be a far better place. In the context of writing, respect also extends to the creative process and everything that entails (e.g., how, where, and when we do our best work, what we need physically, emotionally, socially, and spiritually to thrive, and so on).
This sometimes takes the form of needing space to generate and/or mull over ideas without anything other than support and encouragement. Whether the ideas actually make it into a book is an entirely different matter, mind you. This can also take the form of creating (ironically) time and space to carefully plan out a story before delving into characters, subplots, settings, and all the other key “ingredients” that go into a novel.
One of the greatest tools we have found to work on our books, including what could be conceptualized as “blocks,” consists of getting out in nature. This usually takes us to some great spots in our neighbourhood, or wherever we happen to be geographically at that moment. It allows us to breathe, think, discuss, collaborate, and, as a bonus, engage in some physical activity. Although this might not work for everyone, it certainly works for us. We can’t count how many times we’ve strolled around the parks in our area, always to come home with a new idea or two, as well as renewed zest for whatever we’re working on.
Weekends away also serve this purpose. Interestingly, we’ve come to know some cities and villages in intimate detail thanks to our books. As an example, parts of Love Decanted and Half-Truths take place Montreal, one of our favourite cities. Through our travels, we’ve come to learn how to properly stake out a wine depot (thanks to some help from our friends on the Montreal police force) and where Julie, one of our main characters, likes to order her favourite dark chocolate hot chocolate and where she takes her niece, Gaby, for decadent chocolate brownies.
On the flip side, things to avoid in working together include many of the usual suspects, including making critical comments, forcing issues (e.g., trying to push too hard for a “solution” to a given “problem”), and bringing relationship “baggage” into a given exchange. Starting any sentence with “You always…” or “You never…” tends to lead nowhere constructive, as does failing to check in with the other person about where he or she is emotionally or creatively. Finally, making (unfounded) assumptions about any number of things often yields nothing helpful.
One of our former university professors used to talk about the difference between “K.A.” and “K.A.” For him, this translated into knowing when to push or “kick ass” and knowing when to back off, offer support, and, in his words, “kiss ass.” Both can be manifested in very different ways. The former could be as simple as offering direct, honest feedback, which, as we all know, can be difficult to hear. The latter could take the form of offering a cup of tea (or a chai tea latte, known in our house as a Tai Chi latte…an inside joke), a warm embrace, or a kind, encouraging word.
Despite having made our share of errors when it comes to collaborating on our writing projects, we both agree that working as a team has allowed each of us to grow as people, evolve as wine writers and novelists, and experience some incredible moments. One of our fondest memories consists of us laughing like fiends in a packed hotel lobby while we played out how one of our characters, Dom, would react to a rather delicate interpersonal situation using both his charm and crassness.
With all that said, again, we can boil down our partnership to one glorious word:
R-E-S-P-E-C-T.