Q: What do you find different about writing fiction? What do you like, dislike?

A: As I said in the previous answer, writing fiction is a much more satisfying and even truthful way to explore contemporary life. I don't actually dislike anything about it--it's great fun coming up with characters, story, dialogue. The best part is that you don't have to use some survey or group of statistics to make your point. You just give the point a name and physical description, and you're in business.

Q: Just how autobiographical is AMANDA BRIGHT@HOME in terms of emotions, characters, setting, etc.?

A: For some reason most readers today assume writers are incapable of making anything up (unless, of course, they're reporters for the New York Times...). During the serial, it got a little bit embarrassing going to parties, seeing friends, etc. because many people wondered if Amanda--and all her angst and marital difficulties--was some veiled "cry for help." (My husband, David, too, began receiving very strange looks from his colleagues. They assumed Bob was him.) I found my own life and emotions were only useful to the degree they helped me understand and create Amanda. I also interviewed dozens of women for the book, and many of their experiences crept into the novel. Amanda is autobiographical in the sense that she shares--or rather, reflects--the insecurities, doubts, and difficulties me and so many women of my generation face when we become mothers.
Actually, the joke about Amanda is that MY life began to imitate hers after she was published in serial form: in the novel, Amanda stirs up a mini-Washington tempest when she gets her administration-employed husband into trouble by speaking incautiously to a gossip columnist. As a blogger, you may recall I caused a similar tempest when a private email I sent out to friends was published in an on-line gossip column. But the scene in the novel was written BEFORE my own little taste of tabloid fame. At the time it was happening to me, I was mortified--but also, as a writer, a little bit curious. I wondered if I'd captured Amanda's experience with perfect accuracy. When I went to revise that section, I didn't have to change a word. Actually, I changed one thing: I added a line about Amanda having to eject a New York Post photographer from her front stoop. That happened to us. (The photographer, I might add, was awfully gracious about it.)

Q: What is it like having another author in the house? Do you help each other or work in separate rooms?(My wife hates when I critique her writing)

A: These days we have separate offices, but in the past David and I have occasionally shared an office, and on some days, we have worked together at the same outdoor table on our porch. I know people automatically assume that two writers living in the same house must be desperately competitive. But I've often compared us to his grandparents, who used to run a little fresh fruit and vegetable store on College Street in Toronto ("Frum's Modern Grocery"). His grandmother worked the till and did the book-keeping, and her husband purchased the produce and schmoozed with the customers. Basically, we're like that. Frum's Modern Books. Fresh. Buy Two and We'll Throw in a Third Book for Free. I actually don't know what I would do if he was not a writer--if he were something more sensible, for example, like a dentist. I depend utterly on his advice and editing--and vice versa. We're each other's toughest editor--and it works, I think, because we trust each other's judgment. It's a real gift to have someone "in-house" to show your initial drafts, discuss ideas with, etc. Granted, I sympathize with your wife. I need what David (somewhat mockingly) calls a "praise sandwich." If he begins ripping to shreds something I've just written, I get hurt. So rather than rip it to shreds, he's learned to say, like a kindergarten teacher, "Your first sentence Danielle is REALLY, REALLY good," then, "But there are some BIG problems here in the middle," followed by, "However, your last sentence is REALLY, REALLY good." David doesn't need the praise sandwich. I can be quite brutal and he doesn't flinch. He takes it like a man.