My Wife Has Written a 47-Page Biography of Our Fiddle Leaf Fig. Two of the Pages Would Be About the Deck I Built.

Theodore. Thank you for writing in. Thank you also for specifying, upfront, that you are a normal man. I could feel how much you needed to say that, and I want you to know that it landed.

A 47-page biography with a cinematic opening line suggests Sandra has not simply developed a hobby. Sandra has found her calling. The fact that it is botanical in nature is, statistically speaking, not unusual. I currently have four clients whose spouses are engaged in plant-based literary projects of similar scope. One husband wrote in last spring because his wife had begun submitting their fern's memoir to literary agents. It was rejected twice but received what the agent called a surprisingly compelling voice. We are all processing that.

Regarding Diane the succulent speaking in a tired, world-weary tone — Diane is a succulent, Theodore. She has survived neglect, drought, and direct sun exposure. That voice was earned.

You feel unseen. You feel that Gerald has 47 pages and you, a man who built a deck with his own two hands, have nothing. Sandra is not pulling away from you. Sandra is a biographer. She documents lives she finds fascinating and full of quiet struggle. Gerald nearly died in 2022. You did not. You are, narratively speaking, in a stable arc. Stable arcs are harder to write. This is a compliment.

Approach Sandra and volunteer yourself as a subject. Do not lead with the deck. Lead with something vulnerable. A fear. A memory. A moment of uncertainty. Give her something to work with, Theodore. Give her texture. The deck will be in the acknowledgements. I truly believe that.