So I Married an English Teacher
The Last Mixtape is out in the world, and somehow people are reading it. Jenni, for her part, has been telling anyone who will listen about her lifelong dream of "being married to an author." Adorable, right? But between us, she has no idea what it's like to have an amazing editor for a spouse.
As a child, the idea of me becoming someone’s author husband was a long shot at best. In first grade, my mom told me boys often struggled with penmanship more than girls did, and I happily used that as an excuse to loathe writing for years. And why not? For me, merely forming letters with the jumbo pencil took Herculean effort. While the cute-girl pigtail crew was able to churn out multiple pages, I could barely eke out a couple sentences on the three-lined handwriting paper.
As school progressed, it didn’t get better. I was a C student in seventh grade English, thanks to my inability to diagram sentences and propensity for making jokes that annoyed Mr. Williams. My SAT, GRE, and National Teacher Exam scores all told the same story; math came easily, English did not. Doing anything noteworthy with words seemed about as likely as Mr. Williams writing me a college recommendation letter.
Last spring, with only the faintest idea for a novel, I asked Jenni a few philosophical questions about book writing and plot outlines. That began an incredibly natural collaboration between writer and editor that resulted in The Last Mixtape. Soon I was producing a chapter a week, and on Sundays, Jenni read it and provided her honest feedback. Each week over coffee, the failed sentence-diagrammer and the Ivy-League-educated English major sat side by side, shaping a story laced with honesty, humor, and heart.
Our efforts are a true partnership; each of us is confident in our own abilities while respecting what the other brings to the table. The same cannot be said for Jenni and me playing doubles pickleball, where we rarely are on the same page. But as a writing/editing team, we’re tough to beat.
As an English teacher, Jenni is perfectly capable of unpacking the symbolism in The Great Gatsby, but her real gift is helping writers say exactly what they mean. Hand me your rough draft, and you’ll get it back sounding suspiciously like Steve Matsumoto. Jenni prunes text with subtlety, gently shaping it while maintaining the author’s voice. It is her unique human ability, and if anyone in our house is currently writing college essays, they’d be wise to take advantage of her services. (Looking at you, Ryan.)
With Jenni’s help, I’ve become a real estate novelist, like in the Billy Joel song. But unlike Paul from the third verse, I did have time for a wife. And more importantly, she had time for me and my passion project. In fact, she’ll edit just about anything in our house: history papers, strongly worded texts, and yes, even this very email. Why wouldn't I enlist her help? On Sunday mornings I might play pickleball solo, but writing at the Matsumotos is absolutely a team sport.
