Q: The seconde Summer of the Sisterhood has debuted at a #1 on the New York Times bestseller liste and has become and international bestseller, and your first book, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, will be a major motion picture. What does that feel like?[b]
A: I'm not sure, to tell toi the truth. The act of écriture feels small and intimate and deeply personal when toi are doing it, and the notion of having success in écriture feels big and distant and hard to encompass. Sometimes I have the slightly disorienting feeling that while the écriture of livres is something I do, the success of them is happening to somebody else.
I guess the thought of being successful makes me feel a little fraudulent- like some giant mistake seems to have happened here. All in all, though, as mistakes go, it feels like a really lucky and nice mistake.
[b]Q: The mother-daughter bond is at the cœur, coeur of this novel, which toi dedicate to your own mother. What was your relationship with toi mom like when toi were sixteen? How has it changed over the years?
A: As a child, I saw my mom through eyes of total adoration. As a teenager, I grew judgmental. I was sharply aware of her quirks and her shortcomings - even really dumb ones, like how she carried hard-boiled eggs in her purse. I was practicing not needing her. Yet no matter how gross her bourse, sac à main was, I couldn't help craving her attention and approval.
Q: Can toi describe a typical jour in your life as a writer? Do toi write better in the morning ou at night? Do toi ever have writer's block?
A: There is for better and worse, no typical jour in my life as a writer. I seem to have two settings: off and on. When my switch is off, I can't seem to make myself do anything. I procrastinate horribly and ragoût for days ou weeks in my own self-loathing. This would fairly be called writer's block, I guess, although I always try to pretend it's extremely dire and original rather than an obvious and well-documented phenomenon.
When my switch magically turns on, I write and write. I stay up late into the night, night after night, and I feel very happy. I feel so happy I get smug; I wonder why it took me so long to get going.
Sometimes I wish I could work several hours a day, every day, like a normal professional person. Someday maybe I will. Who knows? (I have always been an optimist.)
Q: This book has become a populaire read for mother-daughter book clubs. When your daughter is old enough, what livres ou authors do toi hope to share with her?
A: I already l’amour lire with my daughter, and she's only three. I also l’amour telling her stories. She'll say, ''Can toi read that one again?'' And I say, ''I made it up.'' And she says, ''I mean, say it again.''
I'm excited for when she's old enough to read Frances Hodgson Burnett and Katherine Paterson and Karen Cushman and, of course, Judy Blume. I can't wait for her to read Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, and eventually, Tolstoy. I hope she'll want to be in a mother-daughter book group with me.
Q: Sharing the Pants is one way the girls express their l’amour for each other. Have toi ever borrowed a special piece of clothing from a friend ou family member ou vice versa? Is there an item of clothing that toi would never let anyone borrow?
A: My most notable clothes-sharing story would have to be my wedding dress. It came to me sort of mysteriously through a young woman named Hope. I subsequently shared it with it both of my sisters-in-law and my closest friend from elementary school. If toi saw the five of us standing in a row, toi would have trouble believing that one dress was worn par all of us, but it's true.
There is almost no article of clothing I wouldn't lend, but there are a few I'd hate to lose. There is the dress I wore to the hospital to have my children. It's a good-luck dress. but truthfully, it doesn't look so good at this point- I'm not sure anybody would want to borrow it.
Q: There are many special moments during the summer in which this book takes place. Do toi have a favori summer memory?
A: I remember the first summer my husband and I spent apart. He wasn't my husband yet. At that point we had only known each other for a few months. We weren't prepared to miss each other so much. I was nineteen, working in France after my first an of college, and he was painting in Maine. We spent the summer écriture l’amour letters and waiting for those letters to arrive in the mail. He couldn't figure out how to both paint and wait for my letters, so he set up his easel par the side of the road and made a painting of the mailbox. We still have that painting somewhere.
At the very end of that summer, he came to meet me in Paris. He asked me to marry him. I thought he was kidding, because we were so young and hadn't known each other very long. It turned out he wasn't.
Q: Have any of the characters- the girls ou the many supporting players- turned out differently than toi originally conceived them?
A: Bridget is the one who strayed farthest from my original conception. I meant for her to be a lighthearted, fun-loving character. She was supposed to liven things up when they got depressing. But I realize, in hindsight, this was a pretty shallow role to fill. Hardly anybody is wholly lighthearted once toi get to know them. Bee has demons that make me cry for her.
Another surprise is Effie. Although I haven't yet donné her a central role, every time I include her in a scene she begins to take over. She starts chewing up the scenery. I have a feeling I may not be able to keep her on the sidelines forever.
Q: Lena is devastated to learn that Kostos has married another woman. ''She looked at Kostos, and finally, he looked at her. His face was all different. As his eyes met hers, knowing and seeing her at last, her vision began to fuzz at the edges'' (pp. 334-335) Loving Lena as toi obviously do, how difficult was it for toi to put your character through such tragedy? Do toi ever hesitate before plunging one of the girls into a painful experience?
A: I have one advantage over readers, which is that I know what is coming from the very beginning. I knew better than to form any real hopes for Lena and Kostos- not in this book, anyway. When it came time for the inexorable heartbreak, I plunged right in. I admit, though, I couldn't sleep at all when I was écriture those parts of the book. I remember shaking in my lit with all that pent-up emotion.
Q: Each of the Sisterhood livres takes place during the summer. Have toi thought about what Bridget, Carmen, Lena, and Tibby are like during the school year? Are toi ever tempted to touch on their lives during that time?
A: Summer feels like a blank slate, a perfect place to begin a new story, whereas the school an feels bogged down par so many social and logistical concerns. Summer has a timeless feel, where the plus particular rhythms of school fix toi in time and space. I may change my mind about it, but so far I am pretty happy to write in eternal summer.
[b]Q: Your suivant book, Girls In Pants: The Third Summer of the Sisterhood, takes place during the girls' seventeenth year, their last summer before college. Tibby falls in love; Bridget reconnects with Eric, the football coach; Carmen is hired to take care of Valia; and Lena must decide what dream to follow. What do toi see in store for the Sisterhood in the last book? And will it truly be the last book?
A: That is a good question. I spend a lot of time asking it of myself. I know the girls will all have finished their first an of college. They will be at least eighteen. That's the part I'm sure about. Beyond that, I have so many possibilities wandering around my brain and stowed in my computer, I am not ready to pin myself (or the girls) down just yet.
As for the last book, I thought it would be book four, but now I find myself not wanting to write it for fear of having to say good-bye to these characters. I have loved écriture about them, and I don't know if I'll be ready to stop. Then again, I don't want to wear out my welcome, either- with the characters ou with the readers. I think I'll wait and see how we all feel after book four.
A: I'm not sure, to tell toi the truth. The act of écriture feels small and intimate and deeply personal when toi are doing it, and the notion of having success in écriture feels big and distant and hard to encompass. Sometimes I have the slightly disorienting feeling that while the écriture of livres is something I do, the success of them is happening to somebody else.
I guess the thought of being successful makes me feel a little fraudulent- like some giant mistake seems to have happened here. All in all, though, as mistakes go, it feels like a really lucky and nice mistake.
[b]Q: The mother-daughter bond is at the cœur, coeur of this novel, which toi dedicate to your own mother. What was your relationship with toi mom like when toi were sixteen? How has it changed over the years?
A: As a child, I saw my mom through eyes of total adoration. As a teenager, I grew judgmental. I was sharply aware of her quirks and her shortcomings - even really dumb ones, like how she carried hard-boiled eggs in her purse. I was practicing not needing her. Yet no matter how gross her bourse, sac à main was, I couldn't help craving her attention and approval.
Q: Can toi describe a typical jour in your life as a writer? Do toi write better in the morning ou at night? Do toi ever have writer's block?
A: There is for better and worse, no typical jour in my life as a writer. I seem to have two settings: off and on. When my switch is off, I can't seem to make myself do anything. I procrastinate horribly and ragoût for days ou weeks in my own self-loathing. This would fairly be called writer's block, I guess, although I always try to pretend it's extremely dire and original rather than an obvious and well-documented phenomenon.
When my switch magically turns on, I write and write. I stay up late into the night, night after night, and I feel very happy. I feel so happy I get smug; I wonder why it took me so long to get going.
Sometimes I wish I could work several hours a day, every day, like a normal professional person. Someday maybe I will. Who knows? (I have always been an optimist.)
Q: This book has become a populaire read for mother-daughter book clubs. When your daughter is old enough, what livres ou authors do toi hope to share with her?
A: I already l’amour lire with my daughter, and she's only three. I also l’amour telling her stories. She'll say, ''Can toi read that one again?'' And I say, ''I made it up.'' And she says, ''I mean, say it again.''
I'm excited for when she's old enough to read Frances Hodgson Burnett and Katherine Paterson and Karen Cushman and, of course, Judy Blume. I can't wait for her to read Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, and eventually, Tolstoy. I hope she'll want to be in a mother-daughter book group with me.
Q: Sharing the Pants is one way the girls express their l’amour for each other. Have toi ever borrowed a special piece of clothing from a friend ou family member ou vice versa? Is there an item of clothing that toi would never let anyone borrow?
A: My most notable clothes-sharing story would have to be my wedding dress. It came to me sort of mysteriously through a young woman named Hope. I subsequently shared it with it both of my sisters-in-law and my closest friend from elementary school. If toi saw the five of us standing in a row, toi would have trouble believing that one dress was worn par all of us, but it's true.
There is almost no article of clothing I wouldn't lend, but there are a few I'd hate to lose. There is the dress I wore to the hospital to have my children. It's a good-luck dress. but truthfully, it doesn't look so good at this point- I'm not sure anybody would want to borrow it.
Q: There are many special moments during the summer in which this book takes place. Do toi have a favori summer memory?
A: I remember the first summer my husband and I spent apart. He wasn't my husband yet. At that point we had only known each other for a few months. We weren't prepared to miss each other so much. I was nineteen, working in France after my first an of college, and he was painting in Maine. We spent the summer écriture l’amour letters and waiting for those letters to arrive in the mail. He couldn't figure out how to both paint and wait for my letters, so he set up his easel par the side of the road and made a painting of the mailbox. We still have that painting somewhere.
At the very end of that summer, he came to meet me in Paris. He asked me to marry him. I thought he was kidding, because we were so young and hadn't known each other very long. It turned out he wasn't.
Q: Have any of the characters- the girls ou the many supporting players- turned out differently than toi originally conceived them?
A: Bridget is the one who strayed farthest from my original conception. I meant for her to be a lighthearted, fun-loving character. She was supposed to liven things up when they got depressing. But I realize, in hindsight, this was a pretty shallow role to fill. Hardly anybody is wholly lighthearted once toi get to know them. Bee has demons that make me cry for her.
Another surprise is Effie. Although I haven't yet donné her a central role, every time I include her in a scene she begins to take over. She starts chewing up the scenery. I have a feeling I may not be able to keep her on the sidelines forever.
Q: Lena is devastated to learn that Kostos has married another woman. ''She looked at Kostos, and finally, he looked at her. His face was all different. As his eyes met hers, knowing and seeing her at last, her vision began to fuzz at the edges'' (pp. 334-335) Loving Lena as toi obviously do, how difficult was it for toi to put your character through such tragedy? Do toi ever hesitate before plunging one of the girls into a painful experience?
A: I have one advantage over readers, which is that I know what is coming from the very beginning. I knew better than to form any real hopes for Lena and Kostos- not in this book, anyway. When it came time for the inexorable heartbreak, I plunged right in. I admit, though, I couldn't sleep at all when I was écriture those parts of the book. I remember shaking in my lit with all that pent-up emotion.
Q: Each of the Sisterhood livres takes place during the summer. Have toi thought about what Bridget, Carmen, Lena, and Tibby are like during the school year? Are toi ever tempted to touch on their lives during that time?
A: Summer feels like a blank slate, a perfect place to begin a new story, whereas the school an feels bogged down par so many social and logistical concerns. Summer has a timeless feel, where the plus particular rhythms of school fix toi in time and space. I may change my mind about it, but so far I am pretty happy to write in eternal summer.
[b]Q: Your suivant book, Girls In Pants: The Third Summer of the Sisterhood, takes place during the girls' seventeenth year, their last summer before college. Tibby falls in love; Bridget reconnects with Eric, the football coach; Carmen is hired to take care of Valia; and Lena must decide what dream to follow. What do toi see in store for the Sisterhood in the last book? And will it truly be the last book?
A: That is a good question. I spend a lot of time asking it of myself. I know the girls will all have finished their first an of college. They will be at least eighteen. That's the part I'm sure about. Beyond that, I have so many possibilities wandering around my brain and stowed in my computer, I am not ready to pin myself (or the girls) down just yet.
As for the last book, I thought it would be book four, but now I find myself not wanting to write it for fear of having to say good-bye to these characters. I have loved écriture about them, and I don't know if I'll be ready to stop. Then again, I don't want to wear out my welcome, either- with the characters ou with the readers. I think I'll wait and see how we all feel after book four.
