Copy That
I went down a Nora Ephron rabbit hole the other night. I reread her exceptional essay, “Moving On, a Love Story,” on her deep love for her home in the Apthorp building on Manhattan’s West Side. And because it’s Nora’s piece, her simple, conversational style belies bigger questions. How do we make a home? How do we lean on the promise of forever, only to let it go?
How we must make peace with the passing of seasons, of people?
I should say here that I was devastated when she died - as devastated as I could be toward someone I'd never met - yet who has touched me deeply. Other writers have conjured a similar sentiment for me. I say their names with reverence: Anita Shreve, Mary Oliver, Hilary Mantel, among many more. However, Nora - with her inimitable voice; with her passion for cooking and writing and New York City - was someone I would’ve loved to have called a friend. Perhaps because she was a (very open) essayist, I felt like I knew her. Because I didn’t actually know her, it’s easy for me to pretend that I still do - and that she’s not gone.
I miss her most in the fall, when I revisit movies like You’ve Got Mail and wish for my own “bouquet of newly sharpened pencils.” And as a writer with a book on the cusp of publication, my esteem for her has taken on a new dimension.
Now, I seek out her advice.
After her first husband, Carl Bernstein, cheated on her when she was seven months pregnant, Nora famously transformed his betrayal into a best-selling novel. HEARTBURN, starring Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson, would become a worldwide box office hit. By using her heartache as inspiration to make something new, Nora became the ultimate “heroine” of her life. She staunchly refused to be victimized and couldn’t stomach self-pity in other people.
She saw the purgatory implicit in victimhood. In an interview with Believer Magazine, Nora said, “I have friends who, for four or five years after a divorce, are still complaining about it … I just have no patience for it at all. It’s like, ‘Move on, get over it, this is it (emphasis mine).”
Nora often credited her parents with giving her a roadmap to resilience. When she was upset, her mother would tell her, “Someday this will be a story.” This foundational lesson taught her to view any hardship from a distance. Nora learned to narrate her way through big emotions.
Too often, I think her iconic “Everything is copy” advice is taken narrowly. At worst, it comes off as a form of exploitation. I don’t think she meant that every good story comes from a retelling. While Nora was unapologetic about fictionalizing her story, I believe that she viewed the concept of “copy” more expansively. “Taking notes” empowers us to find perspective in our experience while it is happening. It’s the idea that we can make meaning from our suffering. If “everything is copy,” we aren’t passive creatures entirely dependent on the whims of fate.
We have a voice.
I wrote SUMMER TRIANGLE, a book which celebrates and honors the power of female friendship, during a stretch of time when I couldn’t see my friends much. One of my children became chronically ill with a debilitating inflammatory condition. While I was so privileged and will forever be so grateful to have been the one taking care of him, I was extremely isolated. He’s much better now - thank goodness. But I can vividly remember messy hours filled with love and worry and physical exhaustion. They were such long days, and often lonely ones, too.
As time passed, my little book project took on a different shape. I wrote about friendships that didn’t belong to me because of how much I missed my own. Sometimes, I wrote alongside him as he slept. Many times, I was too tired to write anything at all. My book became a creative outlet that provided an escape as much as it served as a sustaining presence. My writing reminded me, as a caregiver, of my own voice.
In making something, I reminded myself (when I felt particularly helpless) of my own power.
Somehow, we walked through that dark tunnel together and found new light: he now enjoys the great blessing of his health, while my project has presented an unexpected path to me. I think that’s what Nora meant as “copy.” We don’t necessarily create about our lives - we create through our lives.
And with any luck, after the storm passes, you will have a story.
