Canny, Carnie, Cassie

Where do main characters come from?

I can’t believe it’s just a little over two months until THE GRIFFIN SISTERS’ GREATEST HITS meets the world! Today, I’m going to tell you a little about where this book came from.

I can’t think of another case where I have a picture of myself on the day I thought of a book’s main character, but, for THE GRIFFIN SISTERS, I do.

Our story begins in Alaska. I’d always wanted to visit, and, in the summer of 2022, my husband and I finally went. We spent about 10 days plus travel. We flew into Homer, spent the first chunk in Seward, did a lot of hiking and paddling, and then went to Homer, where we got to go rafting in a glacial lake. It was beautiful – truly, one of the prettiest places I’ve ever visited. And, as you start talking to people, and listening to them, you start to realize that there aren’t all that many natives. A lot of people in Alaska seem to have come there because they’ve left something behind – some other life, some other version of themselves.

In Seward, our Airbnb was a tiny house built on stilts. The house was adorable, beautifully decorated and immaculately maintained. It was on the same lot as this kind of falling-apart ranch house. There was a car on blocks in the driveway, discarded kids’ toys all over the lawn. The owners would text us a code to unlock the door the day of our stay, and so even if they were living on the same lot, we never saw them.

I started to think about a woman who’d come there because she’d been famous, once, and wanted to run away from everything and everyone. A woman who didn’t want to see people, and had arranged her life so that nobody ever saw her while she cleaned and tended the properties she owned, and, if they did, they wouldn’t know she was the owner.

And that was Cassie.

I could see her so clearly, carrying her bucket of cleaning supplies, in a hoodie with the hood pulled up to cover her face. I knew she was fat. I knew she was lonely. I knew she felt like she’d done something terrible and unforgiveable, and so she’d sent herself into exile, with no intention of ever coming home.

My husband and I were hiking in Diamond Ridge, which was a meadow full of wildflowers, talking about this woman, tossing ideas back and forth. Who is she? What happened? What’s her story? What’s her name?

Then I had to work backward. Okay, who is this woman? What happened to mess her up so badly, to knock her off her path?

I’ve always wanted to write something set in the world of music and pop culture. In the 1990s, when Wilson Philips was at the top of the charts, I remember the videos where they’d put Carnie Wilson in pantsuits on the beach, while her slimmer bandmates got slip dresses and miniskirts. I remember the throwaway joke – one of many I heard – about Mama Cass in one of the Austin Powers movies.

I remember Britney’s breakdown; the expression on her face with the clippers in her hand and how desperate she must have been to perform that public a reclamation of her physical self.I remember standing in line at CVS and getting a call from a producer of one of the morning news shows asking me if I wanted to come on the air and talk about Jessica Simpson.

“Why?” I remember asking. “What did she do?”

There was a pause. And I remember the producer sounding a little sheepish when she explained that what Jessica Simpson had done was wear a pair of unflattering jeans after she’d apparently some weight after appearing in “The Dukes of Hazzard.”

I declined the opportunity to discuss this with the viewing public, but it all stuck with me. Was Carnie Wilson’s body such an affront that it had to be hidden? Was Cass Elliot’s body so much more important than her talent, her songwriting, her voice, to the extent that her entire life and career ended up with her name as a punchline? Did Jessica Simpson owe the viewing public her Daisy Duke body for the rest of her life? How bad had things gotten for Britney, and how did the media justify its pursuit of a young woman who’d been a teenager when her stardom began? What was it like for a talented young woman in the 2000s, where the price of stardom was that kind of scrutiny and shaming?

I named my heroine Cassie, in honor of Mama Cass. I decided that she was a former pop music star, someone who always loved music – classical music – and had studied at the Curtis Institute here in Philadelphia, but who never wanted or sought out stardom. I imagined that she grew up feeling like she didn’t know how to talk to other kids, like she never fit in with other people, and that music was the only place she felt at home.

And I thought about sisters. I imagined that Cassie was part of a sister act, and that, like Carnie Wilson, she had a sister who conformed to society’s standards of beauty. Plus, Cassie’s sister, Zoe, has the social skills that Cassie lacked. I figured that, had Cassie been born more recently, she might have had some kind of label of diagnosis, but that, in her generation, she got the label that kids like her received in the 1980s and the 1990s: weirdo. Misfit. Loser. Freak. And, just as Cassie got too little support and understanding, Zoe got too much responsibility, because she was told, from the moment she was old enough to understand words, Take care of your sister.

Finally, I thought about generational trauma, and the way patterns repeat themselves. What if Zoe had put her years of stardom behind her, only then she has a daughter, and her daughter wants nothing more than fame and fortune and musical stardom? What if Zoe does everything she can to discourage her child, who then goes in search of the aunt she’s never met, the woman she’s convinced will understand her and support her in her quest?

Take these women: mothers and daughters and sisters. Add in a love triangle. Mix well with tragedy and secrets and lies, and a twist of reality TV, and you’ve got yourself the beginning of a novel.

And that is where THE GRIFFIN SISTERS’ GREATEST HITS came from! I hope it sounds interesting. I’m very proud of it, and very excited to publish it on April 8….and lucky you! You can pre-order it right this minute, in all of its many fancy sprayed-edge variations.

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/the-griffin-sisters-greatest-hits-deluxe-limited-edition-jennifer-weiner?variant=43111029407778

And now, let’s answer some questions!

Kerri writes “Understanding the sentiment about writers being separated from their money, how would you recommend finding a developmental editor?”

Excellent question. I’d start by asking writers I know – if you’re in a writers’ group, see if anyone there has worked with someone they’d recommend. If you aren’t in a writers’ group, I’d Google. Then I’d look for people who seem simpatico and are within your budget and – maybe most importantly -- have worked on books that have been published. Then I’d ask for an interview and ask for references. Then I’d call their references and ask lots of questions — what was the editing process like? How long did it take? Do you feel like you got your money’s worth?

Finally, I’d look for people who’ve made writing and editing their career. Avoid anyone who tells you she can edit your book, design your website, come up with a marketing plan and do your taxes, too. You are looking for a specialist, not one-stop shopping!

Bart asks: Have you tried rucking?

Yes. Yes, I have. There was an article about it in the New York Times and I am my mother’s daughter, so of course I had to try it.

(If you’re thinking, There must be a story here, you’re right. Around ten years ago, I was in Cape Cod for the summer and my mom left the house first thing in the morning. I went to take the dog for a walk and saw my seventysomething mom…running. Very slowly. While dressed in loose-fitting pink cotton capri pants and an oversized mustard-colored tee shirt. It was quite a sight to behold.

“Fran,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I am running,” said my mom.

“Um. Why?”

“The New York Times said there are long-lasting health benefits to running five minutes a day. So I’m running. Five minutes a day.”

And she did. Until almost the end of her life. Whenever my husband would see her he’d say “Look out, Usain Bolt.”)

So when the Times wrote about rucking – walking while carrying a weighted backpack -- I popped a ten-pound barbell into my Jansport and went out to give it a try. I liked it! The trouble is, I constantly felt like I should have been running instead of walking. So now I mostly stick to running, or carrying groceries home from one of my nearby grocery stores, which are both about half a mile away).

Keep those questions coming – whether it’s writing, fitness, or anything else I know something about, I’m happy to help!