Helicopter wife or writing buddy?

Thwop thwop thwop.....the sounds of a helicopter hovering. Is that me... am I being a helicopter wife?

My husband is under the gun with an important writing deadline.  Ideas are floating around in his head, and he's at last sitting down to do his draft. It's slow going, but I know how his mind works, and am confident that the result will be logical, thorough and clear. But that doesn't mean it's not hard to watch him go through the process.

Usually I'm the one who is wrestling with writing deadlines. I've had a busy spring, with two magazine articles that involved many interviews and hours of transcriptions, followed by days of drafting, polishing and editing. With my stories submitted, I'm taking a breather and am about to turn to a novel project. I'm hanging back though, until he's met his deadline.

So what am I doing to help? Not much. I try not to ask him how it's going too often, though I worry that perhaps talking things out might help. I help him research things when asked. Mostly, though, I cook for him, top up his coffee mug, and try to keep things quiet so he can concentrate.

I just can't imagine what it must be like for the parents of a teenager....wondering if the college application essay is complete, how the term paper's going, whether all the deadlines are being met. Not having had children, I've little experience with all of this.

So am I a helicopter wife? Is there such a thing? I google it and find there is a term for a 'helicopter spouse' but I don't think it fits me, because I know his results will be stellar. In fact when we were in college, we both were going for an honors degree and had to write a senior thesis. His was elegant and focused - on how medieval Arab grammarians argued over the adverb. In Arabic, it's called a Haal. So we joked that he should title it, "What, the Haal?" Anyway, mine was a more amorphous and larger topic - on the lives and literary patronage of two aristocratic Arabian women in early Islam. I cried tears over retyping mine. He only had to change the spelling of 'genitive'. (This was before personal computers you see).

So we often laugh at the kind of writing we do. He, always the succinct, clear, and logical. Me, the big, amorphous, messy, emotional and dramatic. I try to make my stories more focused and imitate his clarity. He helps edit my short stories, helping crisp them up most elegantly.

So instead of a helicopter wife, I'm trying to be a good writing buddy. My biggest fear is that I'll jinx him by telling how excited I am to see how his work is going to blossom on the page. I know it's going to be good, I'm just impatient for my first look at his draft.