We Got "The Memo"
Confabbing with coauthors Rachel Dodes and Lauren Mechling, whose new novel "The Memo" may be just what your beach/subway/ferry/baby bag is looking for...
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We all know what it’s like to fear you missed the memo—why does everyone seem to know something I don’t? In a world of “decacorns” and whatever we’ve agreed to call post-girlboss girlbosses, the sense that some essential boat has been missed—and that as a result we’re being lapped by former peers whose victories are relentlessly shoved in our faces via the devices surgically implanted in our palms—is the propulsive anxiety that drives Rachel Dodes and Lauren Mechling’s new novel, The Memo. In it, thirty-five-year old Jenny Green, who watched her own ambitions stall out as her “40 Under 40”-type friends’ soared into the stratosphere, learns that there is, in fact, an actual memo—and that if she can retroactively follow it (yes, time travel is involved) she may be able to catch up to them. The authors met as reporters at the Wall Street Journal. Lauren went on to become Vogue’s books columnist and is now a senior editor at the Guardian US; Rachel’s byline appears regularly in Vanity Fair and a host of other hot spots. Maybe you’ve already signed up for their brand spanking new newsletter,
?Welcome to the Substack sisterhood, ladies—we do so love a writing duo around here. Shall we Spread?
Rachel & Maggie
THE SPREAD: How did this idea first come to you? We like to picture you sitting in a bar ranting about someone who “got the memo.” That said, both of you were enviably successful at a fairly young age and, arguably, could be perceived as women who got the memo.
LAUREN MECHLING: Well, thank you…. I guess? I know we all put our best foot forward and lean into the brags on social media, but a few years ago I found myself unemployed and panicked about attending my 20th college reunion. The idea of facing my old friends and classmates—all of whom seemed to be killing it—made me want to hide under the covers. Truth is, everybody feels, to some degree or other, like they didn’t get the memo. Unless they’re a sociopath. (I can think of one and only one example of somebody who told me that the concept didn’t resonate with her.)
RACHEL DODES: Thank you, first of all, for saying that we seem like women who got the Memo. What happened was that after some early successes in the media business, we both somehow found ourselves as underemployed freelancers struggling to keep our heads above water in the midst of the pandemic. Our freelance work was drying up, and Lauren wound up getting laid off from her day job, at a “feminist” organization that cut a lot of moms loose once they needed to be Zoom-schooling. We both felt like, “What the hell happened here?” We didn’t get the Memo—all these strategic career moves had led us…nowhere. We had nowhere to put our ambition. So we started talking about the concept of “getting the Memo,” and wondering what if there actually was a Memo that had told us what to do, so we’d be thriving instead of feeling like we were fading away into oblivion.
What is the memo for modern womanhood, in your view? Your book captures a crushing pressure to achieve, as well as that awful feeling that comes from comparing oneself to one’s more successful friends. What part of our cultural programming are you challenging here?
RD: When we were writing the book, we realized that the “villain” was our culture’s obsession with optimization and showing off one’s “best life” on social media. Everyone already knows that the idea of women having it all is bullshit, so that assumption is baked into our narrative. Instead, we wanted to explore what we sacrifice on that altar to achievement, and whether it’s all worth it. I think the memo for modern womanhood is to remember that your career is not your entire identity, that when you are on your deathbed you’re not going to think to yourself, “I wish I worked more.”
LM: We’re all under so much pressure to go viral and achieve (#slay, #yougotthis, etc.), but what if the greatest achievement is actually slowing down some, saying no as often as you say yes, and soaking up the things that matter most—our friends, our family, the sound of the birds that I so often tune out during my morning writing sessions? We are wired to constantly feed the beast. I am especially twisted in that respect. I so hope I can unlearn all the lessons I’ve spent the past 40-odd years absorbing.
While we were reading your book, Sarah Menkedick published this New York Times op ed in which she argued that women’s definition of success (essentially: work more, climb the ladder, outsource domestic responsibility) is still defined by the patriarchy/capitalism. She’s wondering how far women—and it’s probably safe to say upper-middle-class white women in particular—have really come since Betty Friedan’s 1960s feminism. Does this relate at all to the themes of The Memo?
RS: Yes, that piece definitely underscores the need to “uncouple” (consciously?) feminism and capitalism. Menkedick observes that there’s something shameful about a woman declaring that she doesn’t give a shit about book sales or making partner or building a successful brand or whatever. And that’s exactly what our protagonist, Jenny Green, is struggling with. She’s not interested in global domination. She just wants to chill out with people she cares about and bake, and because of that, for a whole host of reasons, she is judged as the world’s biggest failure.
LM: Something I’ve been thinking about increasingly often is how so NOT far we have come as women. Today, in fact, I posted a poll on Twitter: If you’re a woman are you a) boring or b) crazy? It feels like those are the only two options of how you will be perceived by others—dully careful or cuckoo. I’m finding that striking a middle ground—where you can have personality and spunk and not only be judged for it but derive power from it—more and more elusive.
Similarly, Jennifer Romolini’s new Ambition Monster—and her Cut essay promoting it vis-à-vis the possible dissolution of Bennifer—feels like your book’s perfect nonfiction companion. Thoughts, feelings?
RD: We are so happy you said that because we both devoured that book before it came out and felt that Ambition Monster and The Memo were kindred spirits! Lauren interviewed Jenn Romolini about it for the Guardian, and we are about to be guests on her and Kim France’s podcast, “Everything is Fine.” We are huge fans and are thrilled to be part of this conversation about ambition, workaholism, and the toll it takes on women.
LM: Am I allowed to curse? Because I fucking love Jenn. Her book felt so novel to me—as she told me when I interviewed her, the goal she set for herself was to write an addiction memoir except instead of drugs, it would be about work. I wake up at five and start working before I have brewed my coffee. I relate, and I hate myself for it. Jenn is on the same path as I am, but she’s many steps ahead.
Tell us the backstory of your friendship, your meet-cute if you will—how did you come to partner in this way?
RD: Lauren and I knew each other since we were 21 years old and she was living in Brooklyn in an apartment with someone I went to college with who liked to throw parties. But we didn’t really interact until a few years later, when we were both working at the Wall Street Journal and part of the same work-friend group that would frequently go out for chopped salads. In 2014, shortly after Lauren had left the Journal, I also moved on to a different job. We didn’t speak to each other for years, but we liked each other’s content on social media platforms from afar. But then, Lauren sent me a copy of her last novel, How Could She, which I loved so much that I invited her to be a guest on my podcast. We laughed so hard at that taping. From there, we just knew we wanted to collaborate on something creative–we just didn’t know exactly what form it would take.
LM: The other day Rachel and I were talking about what could have been—what if we’d let down our guards and let our true selves fly back when we were baby reporters who sat maybe ten feet away from each other? It’s heartbreaking to think of how scared we were of putting the wrong foot forward and letting down our “professional” guard. Rachel is a pro, and as thoughtful and charming as she is hardworking, but she makes me laugh like nobody else. When I grow up, I want to retire and spend my days speedwalking with her. We’ll get matching visors!
We both have plenty of friends, but there’s only one person either of us has ever been brave enough to become work partners with. How did you know each other was “the one”? Were there nerves going in? Did you set up any parameters to protect the friendship and/or the work relationship?
RD: I think because we have worked together before–Lauren has edited stories I wrote for the Wall Street Journal–there was trust already built into our relationship. It was a work relationship before it was a friendship. I didn’t really have any nerves going in, just excitement that this person who I think is hilarious and brilliant is going to create something funny with me. Lauren and I are very honest with each other. We talk all the time about the most random shit. And I never feel like I have to hold my tongue or avoid certain topics. We’ve been through a lot!
LM: I’m glad to see Rachel cursed too! I have had countless working partnerships—I’ve co-written YA novels, and I’ve ghostwritten. To me it’s a natural relationship, to have somebody to scheme and lament with. What I love about working with Rache in particular is she and I bring complementary things to the table. She is more plugged into pop culture, for one. She also knows how to behave in the world, and guides me when I write work emails and whatnot. Also: she never doesn’t pick up the phone when I call. A lot of our work comes out of our daily chats. Telephone hour is a lost art. But we’ve still got it!
In a practical sense, how did you write a book “together”? Also, how long did it take?
RD: When we first came up with the kernel of the idea of The Memo, we weren’t sure what it would wind up being. A TV show? A scripted podcast? A novel? When Lauren said she thought it would work as a novel, I remember telling her, “But I’ve never written a novel before!” And she was like, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” And she did. I think Lauren is really good at plot, where I tend to write myself into a hole. I’m more organized—I have ADD so I have to be or else nothing will get done—so I insisted that we have an outline of where the story is going to go before we wrote a single word. I’m good at dialogue and identifying ridiculous things from real life that we wanted to make fun of in the book, like those people who sleep with tracking devices strapped to their heads.
LM: It helped, too, that we are creatures of newsrooms, and we have no issues with being … for lack of a better word… rewritten (sometimes more tenderly than others). Rachel and I got in a groove very quickly, and within no time we were tweaking each others’ sentences without remorse. It’s the best, having a writer who’s funnier and more with-it than you sharpen your prose!
The best part of Spread Tuesdays for us are our “meetings” which involve a ton of hilarity and laughter and which make the work of this thing totally worthwhile. What aspect of the writing process, or which section of the book, felt most satisfying and fun to each of you?
RD: Spread Tuesdays sound a lot like our Memo meetings. Lauren observed that 95 percent of our writing process didn’t involve writing at all. It was just talking things out, figuring out problems in our own lives and then solving problems in our story. For example, our book had a lot of different endings, one of which involved a sexy sheep farmer in Wales who, through some trick of nature, had a horde of children who were older than him. I think writing the sheep farmer, whose name was Bran, and subsequently letting him go, was a really joyful process.
LM: I disagree. I mean, I miss Bran. He still brings me joy but letting him go was tough.
What is your advice to any other duos who might want to tackle this kind of project? (Asking for…OK, asking for ourselves!)
RS: First off, you each have to be equally committed to the project, and have availability to work on it almost every day (or whatever cadence you set up for yourselves). This can be hard, given all the other commitments we have in our lives. But if you show up for each other, if you can agree that any feedback is intended to make the work better, that is the recipe for a successful partnership. It should be an open, judgment free-zone. In the immortal words of 20-year-old Ben Affleck, “Judge me for how good my good ideas are, not how bad my bad ideas are.” (He said this to Matt Damon while they were writing Good Will Hunting—and yes, I’m the Ben Affleck of this writing partnership.)
LM: Yes, we hit our stride fairly quickly. We both took turns on the Google doc, every day, without fail. Sometimes I’d text Rachel and tell her I was done for the day, and the document had only grown by 50 words. But it adds up. And when you have a co-writer, your work can grow when you’re out grocery shopping or having coffee with a friend. It’s magic!
Any news on Hollywood we should know about? Who would be your dream cast? So curious who you think embodies these women!
RS: Yes! Our manuscript was optioned by Wiip and Lean Machine, which have each produced some of our favorite shows, like Mare of Easttown and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, and more recently Bodkin. Lauren and I will be executive producers on the project. They brought on an incredibly talented veteran writer/showrunner named Dana Calvo—an ex-newspaper reporter, just like us! Needless to say, we hit it off. Dana is finishing up the pilot now, after which she will pitch it to distributors, and we couldn’t be more excited.
LM: As far as we know, actors have not yet been attached to the project, so I hesitate to name any names here–but the producers have our list of favorites. And I’d like a cameo, as a horny Welsh sheep farmer.
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