Partners as Project Champions

Reflections on Interview with Amy Drum

“[My husband John has] been my harshest critic, but that’s on purpose. I need someone to tell me how they really feel about the texture and flavor of the cookies. I need specifics—not just positive feedback…. It’s good to have spouses for that.” – Amy Drum

Last week, I interviewed Amy Drum about quitting her job as a dietician to realize a long-held dream of starting a bakehouse. For Amy, her husband John has played a valuable role by telling her the truth about when a recipe is working and when it isn’t.

We often hear about the importance of having a champion for a project, whether a partner or someone else. But we don’t often hear about the importance of truth-telling in that champion. In some ways, truth-telling may be thought of as the opposite of wholeheartedly championing a dream.

I haven’t found that to be the case. Instead, those most willing to provide me with real feedback about my writing are some of my deepest, and certainly my most trusted, supporters. Because they are willing to tell me when something isn’t working, I believe them when they tell me that something is.

My husband David’s truth-telling turned out to be a crucial part of my process of writing After Anne, my debut novel about the life of Anne of Green Gables author Lucy Maud Montgomery coming out May 30. In the decade we’d been together before I started the project, David had been a vocal supporter of my creative dreams. But I didn’t know what that support would look like during the writing process. Would he be a sidelines cheerleader? Or more actively involved?

I never imagined the integral role he would play. David gladly spent countless hours making edits and comments on the outline, on the first draft, and on each draft after that. And it was not just David’s edits and comments, but the level of honesty in them, that made a difference. I am keenly aware of my own sensitivity to others’ opinions. Knowing myself as I do, I held my first novel a bit like a newborn baby, subject to devastating consequences if not treated with proper care. That means I didn’t open up my drafts to a critique group or other sources of feedback early on. Because of trust built up over many years, I let David in, and he responded not only with enthusiasm and understanding but with truths that made the book better.  

All of which is not to say that truth-telling is the only thing that matters. David’s edits and comments would have helped far less without his unconditional emotional support. He sat with my in the closet, literally and metaphorically, when I was most convinced that this story I cared about deeply would never find a home. That I wasn’t enough of a writer to do it justice and never would be. Each time, he helped me pick myself back up. Each time, he told me that this project was beautiful and worthy of my perseverance. And precisely because of the truths he had told me along the way, I trusted him.

The book is dedicated “To David, who never stopped believing.” I wanted that sentence to be simple, but there is so much more I could say. These are a few of those things.