With much love and admiration:
In the interest of finding a new angle on the whole "crime-fiction-writer" business--and more to the point, in the interest of finding someone else to do the majority of the work on this week's post--I thought maybe we'd take a look at the unsung heroine of my writing career, such as it is.
That, for those of you unfamiliar with the rates at which publishers are paying, is my wife, Jessica Oppenheim, who has for longer than I care to admit supported my writing habit and made it possible for me to be a pro scribe (get it?).
It occurs to a writer that being married to a writer must be odd. We're always observing life with one eye on what's going on and the other on how we can use it. We take things that happened to us and those we know and love, put a spin on it--I'd like to point out that I NEVER use anything that's happened to my family and use it verbatim--and turn it into fiction, then ask other people, total strangers, to pay for the privilege of reading it.
Those who actually work for a living and then come home to a writer have to be extremely patient. Those who are married to writers who like to take life and make it funnier should be nominated for sainthood. Even the Jewish ones.
So because I haven't embarrassed her nearly enough lately, and because I want to let the world know who's responsible for my being inflicted upon it in print, I decided to interview Ms. Oppenheim on the life of an A.S. (Author's Spouse). Here are her completely unedited responses. I swear.
J.C.: How does being married to a writer differ from being married to, say, an accountant?
J.O.: I don't know because I've never been married to an accountant. (Editor's note: This might be the spot to note that Ms. Oppenheim, much like her husband, can be a wiseass on occasion.)
J.C.: Best that you don't find out. Does it make you uncomfortable to read the latest manuscript hot off the printer with the author in the same room?
J.O.: No, though I do notice that you watch to see when I laugh.
J.C.: It's my favorite reward. If you weren't married to the author, are these the kind of books you'd normally read?
J.O.: My taste has changed generally so that I like books that are fun and have good outcomes, so while I wasn't a big reader of light fiction before I am now and I enjoy these books a lot because they're fun.
J.C.: Do people think you're a character in your husband's books? What's your reaction?
J.O.: Yes people think I'm a character sometimes and I'm sure they're right. (Editor's note: She's not a character in any of the books. Okay, maybe a little. But not really.)
J.C.: What do you think people don't know about an author's life?
J.O.: That they don't all look and act like Dashiell Hammett, drink a lot and act tortured all the time. (Too obscure? Lillian Hellman?) Anyway, you don't do that.
J.C.: I'm Jewish; I couldn't pull it off successfully. Are writers different from other people?
J.O.: No more different than other people are from each other.
J.C.: Do you worry your life is being scrutinized for the next book?
J.O.: I think you're scrutinizing everyone's life for the next book, but since you're not writing "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolff?" I'm okay with it.
J.C.: Do you have a favorite among my books (published or non), and if so, would you be foolish enough to identify it?
J.O.: You already know I like the one about the female lawyer, I can't imagine why. (Editor's note: Ms. Oppenheim is an attorney, and is referring to INHERIT THE SHOES, a--so far--unpublished work that I need to talk to Josh Getzler about. Josh?) I also like the Aaron Tucker series and I really like the Haunted Guesthouse series. Also, I'm a big fan of your screenplay about the officer who was guarding President Lincoln on the night he was killed and I think that would make a great movie and movie producers are stupid. (Again, from the editor: Here, Ms. O. is discussing THE SINS OF ST. HELEN, one of the 16-million unproduced screenplays in the Cohen canon. And she's right about movie producers being stupid with that one.)
J.C.: Have you heard from fans of my books? How do you react if strangers get in touch or make a comment in the supermarket?
J.O.: I've never had a stranger get in touch but some of my friends have read the books and are big fans. They always ask about what's coming out and look for them in bookstores and online.
J.C.: You know me better than anyone else. Are there things you think I should be writing that I haven't written yet?
J.O.: Not really. And I forgot to mention I also like the one with the talking dog. (Ed.: Again, an unpublished--and so far, unfinished--novel that I DON'T have to talk to Josh about just yet.)
J.C.: Mystery writing is, in almost all cases, not exactly the path to wild financial success. But you've always been extremely supportive of my writing habit. Have you ever secretly wished I'd just give it up and go into the upholstery business?
J.O.: Upholstery isn't a good business for you. If I had thought of something for you to do that you would have enjoyed, I would have said so.
J.C.: Be honest, now--do you think you can write better than me?
J.O.: No. I'm not a craftsman, but I probably write better legal briefs than you. (Ed. 1. She's being modest, and 2. I certainly hope so.)
J.C.: When you know live with someone for a long time, you get to know them well. Can I really surprise you in a book anymore?
J.O.: Not yet, though the rapping "Beverly Hillbillies" theme was up there. (Ed.: No, don't look for that one in any of the books. Yet another unproduced screenplay. A week later, they did it on "Roseanne." There's no such thing as an original idea.)
J.C.: I swear, a reader suggested this question: "Is he as funny as his books are?"
J.O.: That's a very nice compliment I think. You're almost as funny as you think you are but not as funny as your mother thinks you are. (Ed.: Hi, Mom!)
Many thanks to my lovely and inhumanly patient wife. Next week, maybe I'll interview one of my children.
