Friendships in the margins
April TPD - letter no. 2
Many of the people I love live in different time zones.
One of my best friends lives in a shiny city in the west where the coast rushes to meet the Pacific ocean, where her days are filled with routine of coffee, baby, work. Another friend in Denver listens to my newsletter on her run. When I am making breakfast, my grandmother is tucking herself into bed in a country of her first language.
I picture my favorite people like pins on a globe, my hearts strings tied like a thread, tethering me to them.
There’s a small group of close friends, where, give or take, many of us have known each other for over twenty-four years. For a while, we all lived in the same city. Then, university drew them out, while San Francisco drew me in. In an eleven year period I had moved between three different countries and several different cities. But there they were each time; visiting me, sleeping on air mattresses, wandering in awe with me as we marveled at all the new places together. Then: 30th birthdays, weddings, moves, baby showers, and now, first birthdays of little children. None of us live in the same city anymore. Our group chat is filled with pictures of our small joys and plans for future trips for 40th birthdays. We make do with what time we can get, around work and flights and phone calls.
When I was first diagnosed with my autoimmune disorder, they sent a bouquet of flowers with a thoughtful card to let me know I wasn’t alone, and that they loved me. I still have that card. I keep it tucked into the pages of my current journal.
Life with them has been in the margins for a long time. So long in fact that it feels normal. It is normal. We see each other a few times a year, send voice notes and have phone calls over lunch, or drives into work. I can’t call during my infusions. There’s nap time in the afternoons for their children. Convenience is not part of our friendship vocabulary, yet we find ourselves endeavoring over and over and over. It isn’t not work, but there’s a feeling of gentle inevitability. That we have gone this far in life together, where else would we be? We choose each other. We choose to be understood, and to sometimes be annoyed. We are a sisterhood built over decades.
Being sick makes everything in my life feel precious. Fragile. As if holding onto anything too hard will collapse the entire deck of cards. But my friendships are not the cards bracing against a breeze, they are the table. We hope we’ll always be friends. We hope for a long life where we plan trips together, coax one another into playing video games, poke fun, and send voice notes.
For all else that hope does not cover, our persistence fills in the gaps.
photo by Alberto Sharif
Writing a book often means I am researching niche or obscure topics in order to approach a scene or dialogue more legitimately. For Starling Darling, the main character Lucia has her mother’s necklace and her passport stolen. I spent ages reading everything I could get my hands on about the topic of how you renew your passport if it’s been stolen while traveling abroad. The actual information I gleaned really only took up two, maybe three scenes or small bits of dialogue in a near 300 page novel, yet I was fixated for a couple of weeks. For me as a reader the most pressing question with any book is can I suspend my belief enough to go along with the fantastical elements of a story? I apply this same approach as an author. My greatest fear with my own writing is that a reader will tug at a string of plot and the whole thing will unravel beneath that scrutiny. Now, I also believe that some stories have exaggerated elements and even if they aren’t true, I want them to feel true. I want my research to be enough of a spine to construct the body of my work.
As I near the end of finishing my first draft of my romantasy [code name: EAST], it is an entirely different circumstance of plot elements. It’s a world of magic that isn’t real, so my approach to it allows me to play a little more. But some parts of the story need to feel as if they exist in our world, especially between the interactions of characters. Without spoiling anything, let me just say I’ve spent days researching FBI hostage negotiation techniques from material sourced by Chris Voss, and that’s only for one scene. But it was really important for me to do the scene right. I highly recommend this masterclass of ‘The Art of Negotation’ with him.
If you’ve been patiently (so patiently!) waiting on updates about my second romantic suspense novel, One Night in Warsaw, I have updates. While originally planned to be published this summer, the publishing date has been shifted to the fall. I know! I’m sorry! But don’t fret, there’s still work going on behind the scenes. I’m currently in revision mode, I’ve had meetings with both the amazing and talented artist Lauren Bencivengo about my cover (she painted the cover of Starling Darling!) and my proofreading editor Miranda Mullings.
The official publishing date of One night in Warsaw will be announced next month, so stay tuned. And this newsletter will be where I share the cover of the book first before I post it publicly. I’ll also be soon sharing where you can pre-order a signed special edition of the book. It will be worth the wait!
Until then, I share with you a sneak peek* from One night in Warsaw:
“The abandoned cottage contained all of my fears: shadows, uncertainty of what might happen to me, and worry I was not alone. As I moved quietly, my fingers trailed along the side of rough stone of the cottage. Peering into two of the windows, I glanced about, nervous of all I could not see beyond the trees. I had never been active in the field. I wasn’t well versed for disaster. The person who could help me most was dead.”
*subject to change and not the final version!
I hate accidental spoilers, so proceed with caution!
Have you seen The White Lotus finale? Wow—that speech with Carrie Coon on friendship moved me to tears. So much so that it was actually the inspiration to write this month’s essay. I got very into The Pitt on HBO and finished the entire season. It was so realistic and intense. I’ve been listening to this album non-stop. It’s the perfect weekend background music. I’ve been reading Pride & Prejudice for the first time, and I understand why it’s so beloved, the language and sentence structure is gorgeous. Because I get hyper-fixated on high productivity and tend to use a lot of my time writing novels (nothing to see here, just oldest-daughter-first-generation-Thai-American syndrome) I have had a post-it note that legitimately says, play more. So I’ve been painting with watercolors on canvas. I never regret that time, even if it’s badly made. It’s still fun. I remind myself that fun is what makes me a better writer, and a better person.
May the rest of your month be filled with small and big joys. Thank you for being here.
What a thoughtful and beautifully written letter. Thank you so much for sharing and for being vulnerable.
So glad I read this on this Monday morning. I started the day all wrapped up in my own stresses, and I am now thinking of my own friendships (some 42 yrs and counting, others 10 yrs and just as precious). They cannot solve my problems, nor I theirs, but we are apart of, as you put it, the table. Thank you for the reminder and improving my morning.