Friendship beyond Words

Hi all,

Weeks ago, Lynn asked me to guest blog for her today. Knowing that I had a new book coming out October 1, she thought it would give me a chance to “talk it up” to an audience of avid readers. That’s Lynn—a loyal, thoughtful friend.

Well, we writers have to shamelessly seize self-promo opportunities these days, as publishers expect us to pitch in to sell our books. But somehow, I don’t really feel like trying to write some pithy prose concerning my plot and characters, or ramble on about why I find the Regency era so fascinating.

For you see, writing is also an inherently lonely business. We sit in out little rooms, creating people and stories in our heads, and trying to find exactly the right words to bring them to life. It’s exhilarating. But it’s also hard. And frustrating, frightening. So real friendships—especially those with other people who do the same weird thing that you do—take on a special meaning.

I first met Lynn in 1997. I had just sold my first Regency romance to Signet through a serendipitous twist of Fate that I won’t recount here. Suffice it to say, I knew absolutely nothing about the world of publishing or the world of romance. I’d never heard of RWA, I’d never met any fellow romance writers. My new editor told me about the annual RWA Conference and suggested I go to meet other authors. Sounded good, so I blithely got on a plane to Chicago. The trouble was, she had failed to mention that you had to pre-register. When I walked in and announced I was there to attend the workshops, they gave me a pitiful look and explained it didn’t work that way.

Slinking off with my tail between my legs, I did manage to find my editor in the hotel. She shrugged and said not to worry, because I could still attend her Author Dinner (I think to this day it’s the most expensive meal I’ve ever paid for.) So that night I showed up at the restaurant, not in the best of moods. The first thing I heard as I approached the table was a deep, throaty laugh. In my novels, I’d probably describe it as a smoky, sexy sound, reverberating with depth and nuance. Like a Siren’s song, it drew you in.

And so I found myself seated next to Lynn Kerstan. THE Lynn Kerstan. I’d read her books, and was absolutely in awe of her. Now those of you who have met Lynn know she is no shrinking violet. She looms large in every way. But most of all, it’s her heart that overwhelms you. She immediately welcomed a nobody into her circle (naturally everyone was gravitating around her) going out of her way to make me feel part of the group. And then she proceeded to keep the table in stitches with her funny stories, knife-edged wit and insightful observations. I thought she was one of the coolest people I had ever met.

In the Regency, Lynn would have been dubbed an “Original”—a woman who was not bound by the strictures of convention, but dared to be herself, no matter what anyone else thought. In other words, she was true to herself and had the courage and conviction to “live large.” Of course, it helps to have a sense of humor to carry it off. And we all know that Lynn has that, In Spades.

Since the day we met, we’ve been great friends. Lucky me. We live on opposite coasts, so we don’t get to see each other that often. Still, we keep in touch via e-mail, and always get together at conferences to share laughs and wine. We had lunch in San Francisco in early August and I knew she was hurting. But even though her body was causing her pain, her wit and her good cheer were undiminished. When she told me the news about her diagnosis, I . . . well, I guess you all can imagine how I felt. As a writer, I should be able to craft some lyrical passage expressing my feeling, but right now I find myself bereft of words. Except to say I love her very much.

Maybe next week I’ll tell you about my book, but today I just wanted to tell you about my friend.

Andrea Pickens
www.andreapickensonline.com