What it's like when two writers fall in love

You wordsmith your terms of endearment.

Him: How do you feel about “sweetheart”?

Me: I prefer “sweetheart” to “sweetie,” but I prefer “baby” to “babe.” And I refuse to call you anything ending in “muffin” or “kins” – as in “studmuffin” or “cuddlekins.”

Him: Oh, thank God.

You fight about who gets first dibs on potential novel fodder.

Him: Anything that happens on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays is yours.
Me: I just know you’re gonna hold out on me on those days, asshole.

You write down your best (spoken) dialogue to save for the aforementioned potential novel fodder.

Him: On any given day, I’m going to strive to be 1.3% funnier than you. Anything higher would endanger your self-image.
Me: What makes you think you can even be 1.3% funnier than me?
Him: Most days I can’t.
Me: And you’re worried about endangering my self-image?
Him: Fuck.

 
Me: That was really sweet and tender. Did you mean it?
Him: Of course I did. (a beat) I wish I hadn’t said it with a mouthful of mac and cheese, but yeah.

 
Him: The only thing I’m more thankful for than my ripped body is my sense of humor.
Me: Me, too. (a beat) Wait. Define “ripped.”
Him: Shit.

You visit your hometown’s public library just to look for each other’s books, and are more excited to spot his than your own.

Joint author appearances = mutual endorsements.

[At our recent talk in Sag Harbor]

Him: I love Elisa’s books.
Me: I love Craig’s books.
Attendee: Would you two like to be alone?

Free editing services.

[Text exchange]

Me: I love you.
Him: I love us.
Me: Good pronoun change.
Him: Are you saying I’m pro-noun? Listen up. I’m pro-language. I love all parts of speech equally.
Me: Shut up. 

Best. Love letters. Ever.

(Sorry. No samples here. Some things you just gotta keep to yourself.)

You became close because you told each other your stories. And you realize that you want to keep on telling each other those stories. And then tell new ones. Together.