Top 10 Things You Didn’t Sign On For When You Married A Writer

By Nichole Bernier

Last week, for our 15th wedding anniversary, my husband and I had a bookstore event — saw some old friends, met some lovely folks, talked books — then went out to dinner, just the two of us.

I thought it was kind of romantic, representative of the way our marriage thrives and survives with our self-employment passions bubbling up around the edges, but recognized he might not see it that way. I mean, they call the 15th the Crystal Anniversary, the first good one after years of Paper, Wood, Tin, etc. They don’t call it the Go-Hear-Your-Wife-Talk-About-Her-Book-Yet-Again-iversary.

To make him feel special — and more importantly, to show him I appreciated that it wasn’t always a walk in the park being married to a writer — I gave him a little roast, followed by a pop of champagne (thank you, Brooke at Westwinds Bookshop!)

 

“The  Top 10 Things You Didn’t Sign On For When You Married A Writer.”

 

10) Coming home to find a moody wife not because you both have a fight, but because the main character and her husband did.

 

9) Having your kids want your wife to come for Parents’ Career Day instead of you because… What is it you do, anyway?

 

8) You go to a lot of parties with writers. Which can be a little like watching a roomful of people talk about the same Scrabble move for hours.

 

7) Having people constantly say to you — because your wife’s novel has a husband hiding his smoking — “I didn’t know you were a smoker!”

 

6) Finally getting to play golf at Pebble Beach, because your wife writes about golf for a travel magazine, and ending up with a bag tag that reads [Your first name]  [Her last name] .

And having to show the bag tag to your older brothers.

 

5) A very full fantasy life… that isn’t sexy.

 

4) Fifteen years of having your grammar corrected. And now your kids are starting to do it to you too, because they have her DNA.

 

3) Reading in bed.

 

2) More reading in bed.

 

1) Every time you have a marital spat, that t-shirt that says  — “Careful or you’ll wind up in my novel!” — becomes a little less funny.