Writer Friendship Summer
What literary friendships are, how they werk, and an interview with my lit bestie
Someone recently said to my literary bestie, Elizabeth Kaye Cook, “Don’t do this alone.” He meant the entire project of writing and publishing. Liz and I found ourselves repeating, “Don’t do this alone,” in emails to each other, over the phone, and while waiting for trains during our recent trip to Discworld. Then, Republic of Letters commenced Friendship Week – publishing friends of their writers and debuting the poet Lewis Dimmick (please, do yourself a favor and read his poems). So…I thought I’d interview Liz, my most literary friend.
Though we started our friendship online as editors of a literary magazine (it didn’t end well), Liz and I have now traveled the world together to attend Stephen KingCon in Las Vegas, Discworld in Germany, and various Jane Austen sites in England. You might know Liz from our Persuasion pieces, or her short stories, or maybe you know her as that chick at your dive bar gabbing about G. K. Chesterton.

Though I’ve known Liz a few years now, I wanted to understand more about the role writer-friends play in her writing life. Her answers to my interview questions perfectly capture why “Don’t do it alone” has become our bedrock principle.
Who are your literary friends and why do you love them?
You’re my most literary of literary friendships! It’s almost like we’re in a long-distance marriage: I turn to you for advice, encouragement, critique, gossip, speculation, and just general chatter. Also, you recommended I join a writing workshop with some of your friends – and that’s been really life-changing for me. I’ve learned so much from sitting at the feet of these more professional writers. They give me brilliant insight on a weekly basis. It’s such a varied crew; I read my pages aloud, and they advise me on the proper slang for a Cornish Catholic recusant, what type of houses host which type of ghosts, how it feels for a teenage friendship to transform you from child to adult, and even about the history of rumble strips on the highway.
I also earned my MFA, something I am grateful for because it gave me time, space, and money to write, as well as friends that I cherish very much. I’m always cheerleading for my friend Elin Hawkinson, who writes the most beautiful, unsettling stories. Someday, she’ll write her book, and then I’ll read it and give a copy to everyone I know. She’s so talented.
My other MFA fiction friend is JP Vallieres, and he inspires me to have both unceasing energy and a feral imagination. He spent the night on our couch last winter to see one of his “dead advertising” scripts turned into live theatre, then we stayed out downtown until like two or three am. His plane left so early in the morning that I’m sure he only got an hour or so of sleep before he flew back home.
The poet Danielle Weeks and I don’t exchange work, but we talk about our projects and our lives. We also have the same middle name, Kaye, which is perhaps yet another source for the deep bond we share.
When I lived in New Mexico, I ran with another group of poets. I still admire and appreciate them very much. They’ve released so many chapbooks and collections. I make sure to buy each one.
Why are literary friends important?
Friendship is important for its own sake, but to my mind, a literary friendship can only be truly intimate if we share core principles: love of truth and beauty, a respect for all artists’ freedom of expression and freedom of association, and the idea that, contrary to the soothing porridge of postmodern criticism, a book should be read and understood on its own terms. Not everything is about us. Especially not books. If a book makes you preen like a parrot in the mirror, then either it’s an abomination or you’re misreading it, and I think deliberate, egotistical misreadings are basically a spiritual crime.
Literary friendships can be very damaging, too, for example, if the friend is a cop or a scold by nature. Someone who monitors, or even makes me feel like they would monitor, my reading and my friendship, is someone that I don’t invest time in. However, considering that I came out of an MFA in 2016, I did have a lot of friends that made me feel like this. I’ve let those connections fossilize, though I’m polite about it.
What does a good literary friendship look like?
A good literary friendship. . . wow. It’s everything. During the pandemic, Elin Hawkinson and I wrote a series of short essays about our shared memories. It was really wonderful, seeing those moments from the other person’s eyes. We never published them, but I reread them recently and was blown away.
And then of course, there’s you, Mel. We’re running in a two-legged race. Whenever I get tired of the ignored pitches or constant rejection, you’re there with a fresh burst of energy, and whenever you need a second opinion, I’m there to say, Maybe change this or It’s perfect; they’re crazy.
Someday in the future you and I will be blurbing each other’s novels, and it’s our friendship that has given me the complete confidence to say so. I think you said once, “Of course, I’ll be a success now. You’re depending on me!” And that’s exactly how I feel, too.
Readers, do you have a favorite literary friendship? Or maybe even a friendship inside a book that you love? Possibly more to come about this topic in the future, so share away!
I so agree with you. I have a literary friendship with three folks: one from Substack and two poets and one journalist, the latter a former student and more ... I'm here to support your view so well expressed.
“I think deliberate, egotistical misreadings are basically a spiritual crime.” Wow, what a great line.