Tess Lynch lives out in LA, grew up in New York, can currently be found on your television starring in a Crest™ Commericial (!!!), and is one of my favorite writers on the world wide web. She’s hilarious, smart, genuine, and oftentimes delightfully, well, weird. Ya know, in a good way. A good, smart way. The best way! One of my favorite examples of the Tess Lynch Good-Weird are her much-beloved Fake Dinner Party Conversations, wherein she pretend-invites real characters into her actual home to have imaginary conversations and then writes about them.
Naturally, we thought this was the best way to introduce her:
Tess, Meaghan, William Shakespeare and Judy Blume are sitting around a conference table.
Meaghan: So, Tess, how do you feel about the ambiguity of writing for the internet? You know, considering yourself a writer, but fighting the distinction of “writer versus blogger,” creating an audience yourself as opposed to —
William Shakespeare: Bring forth my vittles, for this is a celebration that calls each son of man to dine and imbibe the finest distillation of the grapes of our labor!
Judy Blume: Yeah, where’s the dinner? Isn’t this a dinner party?
Tess: No no, it’s an interview. You guys are going to ask me questions.
William Shakespeare: But what countrywoman, who sayest thou thou art?
Tess: I’m Tess Lynch. I’m contributing to Coming & Crying.
Judy Blume: David Lynch? I’ve heard of him.
Meaghan: This is kind of what I was getting at with my question. About writing versus blogging.
Tess: It’s hard to accept the possibility of the decline of paperbacks, libraries, and dust jackets. It’s really hard. But at the same time, I think I’m in a better position because of blogging than I would be if it were just me with a scroll and a quill.
[William Shakespeare nods in appreciation.]
Tess: [cont’d] Being able to visualize your audience — and, often, you’re part of their audience, because you follow them on Tumblr or read them in The Awl or This Recording — makes you willing to open up to them in a way you can’t with print. There is, you know, a sense of community. It makes me optimistic about the validity of new media. That’s why your book is so exciting!
Judy Blume: Thank you.
Tess: I was talking to Meaghan.
Judy Blume: What book is this?
Meaghan: A non-fiction sex anthology. Actually, Judy, Tess and I both thought of you as a kind of milestone sex writer. You taught us a lot.
Judy Blume: Why, Meaghan — I’m touched.
Meaghan: Yeah, it was basically you and, you know, the instructions in our mom’s tampon boxes.
William Shakespeare: And also Othello.
Tess: That didn’t make the list.
William Shakespeare: This interview creeps at a petty pace.
Meaghan: Next one was…[shuffles notecards]…Judy, close your ears for a second.
Judy Blume: Why?
Meaghan: I feel like you’re going to be offended. Don’t be offended!
[Judy Blume earmuffs]
Meaghan: [cont’d] You used to mock the sex scenes in Forever, right?
Tess: Totally. The ski trip! But I feel like Forever was also the most honest account of sex, in a way. Judy, you can listen now. Like what’s that book’s equivalent now? I don’t think there is one. Twilight is the opposite. In sixth grade my friends and I would read parts of Forever aloud to make each other uncomfortable. But how explicit it was is so relatable.
William Shakespeare: Just like in Othello!
Tess: I think this book is brave. It’s easy to get around writing about sex, and maybe that’s what makes it awkward to read, sometimes. But it’s also the parts you skip to, dog-ear. They make you feel something. And it’s great to get the opportunity to get this volume as a real-life book, because sex is more sexy when it’s not on a computer screen.
Judy Blume: That was my thinking with Summer Sisters.