I'm not going to lie. One of my guiltiest pleasures is the "Real Housewives of New York City," and I've pretty much been chomping at the bit to write about these madcap ladies for five seasons running now. But alas, I cover parenting news, and it's been hard to mine the Bravo franchise for any good leads.
Until finally, thankfully, last week, one of my very favorite 'housewives,' newcomer Carole Radziwill-- a former ABC News Emmy-winning journalist, New York Times best-seller, Kennedy cousin in-law and always-fabulous girl-about-town -- went and ruffled a few parenting feathers.
All season, we've been hearing how Radziwill is hard at work on a novel, The Widow's Guide To Sex And Dating, based loosely on her romantic encounters in New York City. The author lost her own husband, Anthony Radziwill, to cancer just three weeks after best friends and cousin-in-law, Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy and JFK Jr died in a plane crash off of Martha's Vineyard.
And all season, this 'housewife' has been telling her fellow cast mates-- all of whom have children, she does not-- that writing her book is like having a baby. Then, on October 1, in the penultimate episode, she takes the analogy a step further. Delivering her manuscript to her agent, she says, is like delivering a ten-pound infant with no epidural-- and so she throws herself a baby book shower, payback for all the strollers and onesies she's had to buy for expectant mothers over the years. After all, she reasons, there's nobody waiting with a "push present" at the end of her ordeal. (For the record Carole, I had neither a "push present" or a shower for my son, but I'm thinking of revisiting the issue pronto.)
Radziwill writes on the Real Housewife blog: "Yes, I know I haven't had any babies. Yes, I know babies are hard. I'm just saying that writing a book is a bitch and there's no epidural. And in the end, when I'm finished, I had to throw my own party and buy the champagne and flowers myself."
So is writing a novel like having a baby?
Emily Giffin is the author of six blockbuster best-sellers, including her latest, Where We Belong, and she's the mother of three young children in Atlanta. (One of her books, Baby Proof, actually looks at the choice to remain child-free in New York City.) Giffin says there is something to the analogy, and that writing a book really can feel a lot like the process of conception and childbirth.
"The first seed of a novel feels like a miracle, that early stage when the murky idea takes shape and characters slowly become real in my mind," she explains. "Then I go through the enormous struggles-- both physical and mental-- and wonder if the book will ever really happen. Then, about nine months to a year later, the book is 'born' and I get to share it with the world."
Allison Winn Scotch, author of The Song Remains The Same, has also been on both sides of the table-- turning in four novels, hitting the New York Times best-seller list and giving birth to a son and daughter. She agrees with Giffin that, "writing a book is so similar to having a baby that it's almost uncanny," especially at the end of the process when "when you just want to cross the finish line."
But she's quick to point out a major difference too. "Most of the time and with many writers, after a year or two, we lose the sense of investment that we had in a project. We're still proud, sure. But if someone posts a really nasty review on Amazon, we don't really care in the way that we would have in the early weeks," Scotch explains. "We've moved on to a new book, a new project, a new something. But with your kid, you never move on. You're always watching, proud, concerned, thrilled, joyful."
That, in a nutshell, may be the part of the baby-book equation that Radziwill doesn't fully get, and why the comparison might rub some folks the wrong way. Years from now, she probably won't have the same intense emotions or investment in her manuscript that most of us have in our children. By the same token, it's a troubling statement that an uber-accomplished, child-free woman like Radziwill would bother with the analogy in the first place-- as though she has something to prove (see I did give birth!) and still feels she has to justify her personal and professional choices to everybody out there.
"Even as women take on all the others roles in society, there is still a basic way that women are being judged," warns Professor Barbara Risman, chair of the sociology department at the University of Illinois, Chicago and executive officer of The Council on Contemporary Families. "No matter how successful you are as a woman in another realm-- writing a best-seller, winning an Emmy in broadcast news, being the Secretary of State-- our society still defines being a good woman, as being a good nurturer. And when it comes down to nurturing and proving your 'womanhood,' having a baby is very powerful."
Or at least, in this case, a very powerful metaphor.