On Writing Bonebag

In a way, my dad and I had already been writing Bonebag together for a couple years before he officially asked me to come aboard in late 2020. Whenever I visited my parents for a holiday or an escape from the stresses of city living, we would spend time bouncing ideas off each other until slowly, slowly, Bonebag’s slightly amorphous form began to resemble the book you’re about to read.Five years later, Bonebag is finally here.

Finding my way into Bonebag’s world wasn’t the easiest for me. Even after we’d written the outline, even after we’d started writing in earnest, I had to fight the discomfiting feeling that this was my dad’s book. He had had the idea long before we started talking about it, knew who the pro- and antagonists were and what they wanted, and even had a rough draft or two of the opening chapter. I recognized the themes - family and belonging and self-identity - as ones he’d explored in his other books and his experience as an author, in the early days of writing, left me with a fair amount of self-doubt regarding the quality of my own contributions.I’m not sure exactly when I found my way in, when I began considering this our book, but I did. Eventually.

The authors on a research trip to New York City

It took some time, but I realized that, despite his years of experience, my dad was treating me as a full partner on this journey, listening to and accepting (or rejecting) my feedback as often as I was listening to and accepting (or rejecting) his. There is nothing so inspiring as trust, and his trust in me was unbreakable. It didn’t hurt that we were largely in agreement on many of the major plot points and character arcs. I can’t remember a single major argument, although he did tell me once after I’d suggested a change during our second round of edits that I had too many ideas (true). The process - made even more difficult by the fact that we live hundred of miles apart - would have been made even more arduous if we had not had that trust. The already copious number of emails, phone calls, and Zoom sessions would have increased. Chapters, which we took turns writing, would have been passed back and forth endlessly for edits or rewrites. But the trust allowed us to do what any good team knows how to do - communicate freely, without fear of judgment or ridicule (although I do seem to remember one or two really bad ideas - from both sides - that were, rightly, derided). We listened to each other, and we learned from listening. Bonebag is stronger for it. What more can you ask for from a co-author (or a father, for that matter)? I hope Bonebag scares you. I hope it makes you laugh. I hope it makes you cry. But most of all, I hope it reminds you why reading is an inimitable pleasure. We put so much into making it what it is and are immensely proud of what the book became.

Enjoy, E.M. Elliott