There seems to be a pretty similar palette for the covers of your books. How much choice do you have in the cover design?
What you have to understand is that I have the aesthetic sensibility of a pencil eraser. My big idea for the cover of Good in Bed was – wait for it – “there should maybe be a bed on the cover. That’d be good, right?” After deciding not to contribute to the poor art director’s nervous breakdown, I decided that how the covers should look was best left in hands other than mine. In general, I’ve been thrilled with the images and the colors – I think they’re very painterly and inviting. And the cover for In Her Shoes had the same picture as the cover for a book called Best Fetish Erotica. That was cool.

 

You discuss the pros and cons of being labeled a chick lit writer.  When you write a book, are you responsible for finding the hook on which to sell it, or is that other people’s jobs? If you want something published, do you think you have to be thinking as you go, “I should position this as chick lit meets lad mag” or something like that?
I think you should be true to yourself and write the book you want to write, instead of casing your local bookstore and saying, “Hmm, looks like those drug memoirs are selling really well, better go get myself an addiction.” Or something like that.

 

But once the book’s written, I don’t think it hurts to tell prospective agents, “I think this book will appeal to readers of X” (where X is Bridget Jones, as opposed to Booty Nomad.)

 

I don’t think publishing is quite as reductive as Hollywood , where you have to be able to say, “It’s 'Legally Blonde' meets 'On Golden Pond'" (and wouldn’t that be some movie?) But bookselling is a business, and there’s nothing wrong with giving some thought to how you’re going to position your product in the marketplace.

 

Who are some of your favorite female writers?
Susan Isaacs, Marge Piercey, Laura Lippman, Anne Tyler, Jane Smiley, Ayelet Waldman, Tabitha King, Sophie Kinsella, Anne Lamott, Judy Budnitz, Fran Lebowitz, Nora Ephron, Katha Pollitt, Barbara Ehrenreich, and Margaret Atwood, who I’d adore even if she hadn’t recently stood up in defense of chick lit. And I just read a completely hilarious essay collection called My Horizontal Life  by a stand-up comic named Chelsea Handler. It’s coming out this summer.

 

You have owned a small dog since 1993.  Do you feel defensive that the small dog thing is currently hot, or are you happy that people are catching on?
You know what I’m really pissed about? Not the dog thing, but the baby thing. I mean, I have a baby, and then I turn around and all of these little celebbies are toting around newborns, too. Frickin’ copycats.

 

What’s been your favorite city to live in? Is there anywhere you hope to live that you haven’t?
I love Philadelphia for its history and how compact and walkable it is. I can walk out the door with the stroller and go to a park, the grocery store, a movie theater, a bunch of great restaurants, movie theaters, art galleries, boutiques, bars (okay, maybe not with the baby).

 

In terms of where I’d like to live, maybe San Francisco or Santa Fe .

 

You got a break writing about Gen-X phenomena.  Do you think that Gen-X has remained Gen-X as it got older, started getting married and having babies? Or is it going to turn into something else? Can Gen-X be Gen-X when it’s older and responsible?
Once Gen X, always Gen X. Right? Unless we all make porn movies! Then we’d be Gen XXX! Or we all get constipated! Then we’d be Gen X-Lax! Or eating at South of the Border, which would make us Gen Tex-Mex!

Oh, God. Stop me before I kill again!

 

Have you had the same agent throughout your whole career? How did you get connected with him/her/them?
I finished writing Good in Bed in December of 1999. I sent out query letters to twenty-five agents. I got twenty-three rejections. Many of them were not even rejection letters – oh, no. I got rejection postcards (the better to pack the maximum rejection into the minimum of space). Wound up working briefly with a very big deal agent on the west coast, who was full of helpful advice like, “I don’t think the heroine should be fat. It’s going to make it very hard to get a movie deal. Nobody wants to see a movie about a lonely, pathetic fat girl!” And, “I don’t think we should call the book Good in Bed. I think we should call it Big Girl.” Yikes. I didn’t know much about publishing, but I did know that I was going to have a much better time walking into parties and saying, “Hi, Jennifer Weiner, Good in Bed” than I would saying, “Jennifer Weiner, Big Girl”

 

So I asked one of the editors working in her office if she knew any other agents (preferably one with free time and low standards). She gave me Joanna Pulcini’s name. I sent her the manuscript on a Friday, and on Monday morning my phone at the newspaper rang and there was this little tiny voice saying, “I LOVED your book! It spoke to me!” I have very distinct memories of sitting there, thinking, “How?”

 

How has your fiction career made you more cynical about media?
I think I’ve a not-terribly-unusual ride from the media – I’ve been misquoted, taken out of context, and had the plots of my books distorted. The funny thing was, I was shocked – shocked! – when it happened. I was a reporter for ten years. I knew how the sausage got made. Still, it was mighty uncomfortable to find myself being the one going through the grinder.  It was shocking to me to read in a major daily newspaper that my books pit fat women against thin ones…and even more shocking when I emailed the reporter to gently point out that this wasn’t so much the case, and she wrote back saying, “Yeah, well, sorry, my editor thought it would be sexier this way.” I have a feeling this goes back to the chick-lit label. When you’re writing about Jonathan Safran Foer, or some hot young male writer that the media’s decided to take super-seriously, you can’t just go off on imaginary riffs on the subject of his book. But when it’s chick lit, feel free (that’s, of course, if the big media types notice you at all. Frequently, they won’t.)

 

At this point, I’m pretty much of the attitude that as long as they spell my name right and get the title of the book right, it’s all good – and I should say that I’ve had some absolutely wonderful profiles, and some great reviews.

 

But it still depresses me to see it happen to other young women writers. Think of all the profiles written of Curtis Sittenfeld where the reporter’s main objective was to find out if the author, like her heroine, gave her high-school boyfriend a blow job…because God knows, if it’s in your novel, it must have actually happened to you, because women can’t, you know, make stuff up.

 

Do you read your reviews?
For the most part, yes. I always try to come away with something constructive that I can use to make the next book better. This is usually easier said than done. What I’ve learned from my last book is that if you write a story with four female characters, at least a few lazy reviewers will always say you’re ripping off "Sex and the City." I must have missed the season where there was a fat character on that show. Or a black one.

 

What do you say to people who write to you to point out errors in your book, and what do you really want to say?
What I say is, “Thanks for letting me know.” What I want to say? Unless they’re really awful about it, “Thanks for letting me know (but, honestly, what am I supposed to do about it at this point?)”

 

When will we see the film of In Her Shoes?
October 7. And my new book, Goodnight Nobody, is coming out October 5. On October 6, my new album, Jennifer Weiner sings the Cole Porter Songbook, drops.

 

What about the HBO adaptation of Good in Bed?
In development hell, so nothing to see there.

 

Was your routine or approach to fiction very different from how you wrote nonfiction?
Not really. It was just a question of parking myself in front of the computer and writing.

 

Why do you think readers ask writers they like so often if they can read their manuscripts, or if they can help them get published?
Well, who else are they going to ask? Mom?

I think the publishing industry is still shrouded in mystery, where people assume that you’ve got to live in New York or be related to an agent to even get through the door. The most reassuring thing I can tell them is that publishing is a business, agents and publishers want to find books that will connect with readers (and sell, and make money), and that if you’ve written a book like that, you’ll find a publisher.

 

Do you like doing readings?

Love them. Love them, love them, love them. Writing is a lonely, isolated business, so I really enjoy getting to wear the grown-up clothes and being with people.

 

Are there any trends or themes in women’s fiction that you would like to see an end to?
No, I’m pretty much okay with everything....and if I pick up a book that I’m not in love with, I’ll just put it down, and drop it off at my gym’s book exchange. I could definitely do without the trend of older women writers bashing young ones. My feeling is, there are plenty of men in the world to take care of that.

 

Has having a baby changed your point of view on the stuff you wrote pre-baby?
When I wrote about Cannie’s pregnancy in Good in Bed, I’d never been pregnant. I wish I’d known how incredibly hard it was to find maternity clothes if you’re bigger than a size fourteen, and how incredibly exhausted you are during the first three months.

 

How does it feel to be the 122^nd person interviewed for Zulkey.com?
You know that girl who fainted on the runway during the judging a couple weeks ago on  "American’s Next Top Model"? It’s about like that.

 

More interviews here.