“We always just pretended like we knew each other for a hundred years because that’s what it felt like.” In her moving interview with Zibby, Adriana Trigiani lovingly recalls her late friend and fellow writer, Dorthea Benton Frank. Between anecdotes, Adriana discusses her experience of growing up in Appalachia, her decades of reinvention, and the art of drama.

Transcript:

Zibby Owens: Welcome, Adriana. Thank you so much for coming on “Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books.”

Adriana Trigiani: I love this show. I adore you. I’m ready to rock and roll. How’s that for pep early in the morning?

Zibby: That’s awesome. I needed it. I love it.

Adriana: I’m all yours, baby.

Zibby: Hold up Reunion Beach again and show people who are watching on YouTube this beautiful cover. Reunion Beach, this project really honestly moved me so deeply. The fact that you — you know what? Why don’t you explain the project to listeners? Then I’ll weigh in on all my thoughts.

Adriana: There was, once upon a time, she’s been gone now over a year, Dorothea Benton Frank, known to everybody as Dottie. She was a huge best seller. Her last book, Queen Bee, rocketed to the top. It got to number two, which was huge. You know how the best-seller lists work. It’s the luck of the draw sometimes. She was a force of nature, elegant, funny, bawdy, loved her husband, loved her kids, loved her new grandson. Her daughter Victoria who is included in here — she is an author also, Victoria Benton Frank — wrote the most beautiful love letter to her mom in here. Look, it took us by surprise. She was young. That was the first thing you need to know, Zibby, is that she was too young to go. I am fascinated by people who live like they know. Dottie didn’t think she was going to die. She didn’t know she was going to die. She got a bad illness very quickly. I love when women live like they don’t have any time to waste, like time wasted is the worst thing, which is why, of course, I think what you’re doing is so extraordinary. We don’t have time. We must write our books even while we’re raising kids. It’s part of the pact we have to make with ourselves and one another. Dottie was front and center on that. She was very encouraging of other writers. I never laughed so hard in my life when I met her, when we would do events together.

There’s a great event down in Charleston that I want to get you to called the Courier Book and Author Luncheon which Robie Scott hosts. Dottie cohosted. With Dottie gone, now she asked me to cohost it, which I’m very proud to do. I can’t fill her shoes. I can’t be Dottie, but we’ll do the best we can and do it in her memory. This book was written by friends of hers. Also, her editor, Carrie Feron, approached different authors to be a part of it. Of course, we have the great Elin Hilderbrand. I wrote about when Dottie passed away. I did an op-ed about her in my favorite newspaper, the Richmond-Times Dispatch out of Richmond, Virginia, which got incredible response because Dottie was so beloved. Charleston, South Carolina, is what you need to know. She was born and raised there. You got Elin Hilderbrand. You have Patti Callahan. She’s Patti Callahan Henry. She’s now Patti Callahan. Mary Alice Monroe, and I just want to tell you some more of the folks involved because it’s pretty incredible. I have to give it to Carrie. She really gathered the best of the best. Cassandra King Conroy, that’s Pat Conroy’s widow. She is Cassandra King, a great novelist in her own right. Mary Norris, Jacqueline Bouvier Lee, Gervais Hagerty, Marjory Wentworth, and Nathalie Dupree. Also, buttoned with her son and daughter’s essays and something from her husband Peter.

Zibby: I didn’t know Dottie. I was hoping to get to know her. I had just been pitched Queen Bee for my podcast. Before anything could happen — it was still on my shelf. I was like, what? That’s the author I was going to interview. I didn’t know her personally. I’m sad not to have gotten a chance to meet her. However, reading this book, I feel like I would recognize her if she passed me on the street right now. I feel like I know her deeply. I feel like you guys collectively, you painted a picture of a complete person in a way that you can only really get if you sit in on someone’s memorial service. I love — that sounds creepy to say, I love going to memorial services, but there’s something about —

Adriana: — I’m a funeral person too.

Zibby: Oh, good.

Adriana: I love them too. I love memorials. Do you feel cleansed after them? I feel renewed.

Zibby: My husband, when we were still dating, he’s like, “Uh, how many of these do you go to a year?” I’m like, “Wait, the mom of this girl I went to nursery school with died. I haven’t seen her since nineteen eighty-something, but I remember her, so we’re going to go.” He’s like, “Okay.” It’s back to storytelling. You hear the story of someone’s life.

Adriana: That’s so true.

Zibby: This story was a memorial service in a book and was such a tribute to her. I loved, by the way, your essay in it. Oh, my gosh, you’re so funny. First of all, what you said earlier about her book being number two on the best-seller list, which was part of the joke in the essay itself where you recreate Pat Conroy meeting Dottie in heaven with — . So funny. So they said, write an essay. How did you come up with that format to do it as this scene from heaven out of one of those 1980s heaven-type movies, Heaven Can Wait and all those?

Adriana: First, you got to hear the voices. Pat Conroy’s voice is very clear to me. I never met Pat, spoke with Pat. Pat blurbed — I hate that word, blurbed — endorsed our family cookbook. I’m raised in Appalachia. He’s Southern, and so that all folded in. Pat came to me in a wave. I know his wife. I love her. I was at an event with her. I want to get you on the road with us because that’s when, really, the rubber hits the road, when you start doing these luncheons and things. You meet people. You have a ball. Met Cassandra in Florida. Then Julie Reed — do you know Julia Reed?

Zibby: Only — no.

Adriana: Probably by reputation. She’s in the essay as well because she passed away while I was writing it. I thought, they are a trio. They’re all Southern. They are in different genres, so to speak. Julia Reed’s voice is clear to me because I went to lunch with her several times. I endorsed one of her books. I said, “This is a movie.” She started out and launched it to movie people, which was really great. Julia Reed was at Vogue for many years. She did a lot of television. She was a great writer and interviewer and journalist of the great people of the century, easiest way I can say it, and very elegant and very funny. They all share humor. When I went to write it — I’m a dramatist. That’s how I started. I’m a playwright. I adapt my stuff or anyone else’s for movies and film and television. I said, why don’t I write almost a play? Then the postcard idea came to me because — I don’t know if you’re like this, but I tuck stuff — I see all your beautiful books. I put things in my books so when I go to get it again, there’s a surprise in there for me. It could be my great-grandmother’s Christmas card. It could be a picture of a friend. It could be a letter I received. I hate to throw out letters. As you know, and I think you’re from a pretty big family, it really gets to be — how many confirmation cards am I going to keep? I tuck them in books. That became the idea. That’s how I came up with Postcards from Heaven. Those little things you find when you’re in your house — this was my mom’s. This is the prayer to Saint Francis. I keep it on my desk. That reminds me of my mom. That’s the impetus of it. Those little things you find will remind you of Dottie and will — you see that big diamond back there? I don’t want to turn to get it.

Zibby: Yes.

Adriana: When I met her at BookExpo — we can’t remember the year. We always just pretended like we knew each other for a hundred years because that’s what it felt like. She’d send me videos of people. I wore the lipstick that she was wearing on her last tour. She’d pick a lipstick. This was Brazen Berry 903. When you’re on a book tour, sometimes you leave your lipstick in the hotel room, which I’ve done many times. I had to go get it. She wanted this color. She made ladies all over America — she bought, I don’t know, and gave them away. This color doesn’t work on everybody. Some people, it looks terrible. I said, “Dottie, these girls don’t look good in this color.” She says, “They think they do.”

Zibby: Now I want to try it.

Adriana: That’s her. She sent me that. I said to her when I met her — she was wearing a giant diamond ring from her beloved husband Peter. She always bragged about him . She said, “We still get it on, and he’s got a full head of hair.” I just would go, “Are you kidding me?” We like people who get it on. We like married people who get it on.

Zibby: That came through, by the way, in the book. That totally came through, both of their discussions on their passionate relationship. I was like, I feel like I can read between the lines here of what’s going on.

Adriana: Someday, you’ll talk to Victoria Benton Frank, and she will tell you. They were not shy about saying it. She said it was up to her a lot of the time because her husband’s tired, she tired, whatever. That’s just a little tip from Dottie from heaven. She’s over my shoulder. I loved her diamond. It was the biggest thing I ever saw. It kind of blinded me. I said, “Give me that diamond.” She sent me the next day — this lumpy FedEx came. By the way, she never used regular mail, always FedEx. “Dottie, it’s expensive.” “I don’t care. I know you’re going to get it the next day.” She sent me that big diamond paperweight. That’s Dottie.

Zibby: I love that, oh, my gosh. I love the idea that they also were sitting around — wait, first of all, I’m going to start putting stuff in my books now because that’s a genius idea. I don’t do that. I wish I did. All I find when I look back is notes that I take sometimes.

Adriana: My notes are in there too. Keep doing your notes. That’s a good thing. You’re a real bibliophile when you do that. I’m telling you, when you find just a sweet, secret thing in a book — you can’t really see it. You get a note, a fan letter, somebody writing to you say they love your show, “Moms Don’t Have Time To.” In ten years, you’ll look at it and go, oh, my gosh. It makes you feel good. Also, it talks to you. Your books speak to you in a certain way when you do this.

Zibby: I love that. I feel like just scanning all the books brings up all the characters. It’s like I’m surrounded by people. That sounds so ridiculous.

Adriana: Zibby, do you find when you say, I got to find my — I’m going to throw somebody out here — Toni Morrison, do you know right where she is?

Zibby: I used to, but then I redid all this in February right after I had COVID. I took every book in this room — I felt like I had to touch every book after getting out of bed after nine days. Then I did this whole thing to make it look rainbow. Now I no longer know exactly, but I did for years. I knew everything. Now I’m getting to know it again, but I know basically.

Adriana: You know basically where stuff is. Of course, when you adjust to the new system, you’ll — I’ll be talking to somebody and I’ll go, “Hang on, I know where that book is.” The other day, I had to find Harriet the Spy. I knew right where it was even though I don’t want to tell you how many books are here. It’s like a public library.

Zibby: I want to see.

Adriana: You’re coming over. I’m going to do an actual library room because here’s what’s happened. I collect so many books that I’ve found, treasures, really, signed books. When Tomie dePaola died, I had him signed. My mother used to buy Strega Nona for all her grandchildren.

Zibby: I love that book.

Adriana: She loved that too. She wrote in it to my daughter. Then I have him separate signed, and her. It’s that stuff. I’ll show you everything.

Zibby: Wow. Oh, my gosh, I can’t wait. Wait, I want to say one more thing about your story. Then I want to hear more about how you even got to where you are today and all of that. The idea that they were sitting around talking about their deaths, this is the one thing that you cannot ever commiserate and share with other people about. Did you have an easy death? Did you have a hard death? Was yours fast? Was yours slow? Mine was kind of fast. Oh, mine was slow. It’s the only thing that we can’t — you can only have maybe a glimmer. Oh, this is it, huh? I feel like I’ve had those glimmers many times. Then the plane stabilized or everything was fine or whatever. There’s only that second. I just thought the idea that you could sit — it would be so nice. It would just be so nice if you could all reunite in that way. I love that.

Adriana: I love the reuniting too. When Dottie was dying, here’s the story. I get a text from her. You know this social media stuff. I was so, in terms of Instagram, new to it a year ago. I’m still pretty new to it. Facebook, I’m a little bit better with because I do Facebook Live. Even there, Zibby, I have no idea. If I’m talking to you, I’m talking to you. That’s how I look at it. I get this text from Dottie. It says, “Are you here?” I text her back. I say, “Yeah.” She said, “You’re in Italy, right?” I said to her, “No.” This is not the last summer, but the summer before. I say to her, “Dottie, that’s a virtual tour that I did.” I go to Italy to see my family. I take movies and things. Then we made it into a story, but I wasn’t there. I was here. She said, “I’m in the hospital.” “Where?” We went into the whole thing. We share an agent, Suzanne Gluck from William Morris Endeavor. I always like to say that because she, of course, can use it. She really needs me to promote her. I say, “Okay, Dottie, I’m coming.” I got dressed. I’m in the cab. I get a call from my agent, Suzanne, who’s also my friend, and says, “Don’t come. She’s having a problem.” I said, “All right.” I turned around and came home. I started texting Victoria. Victoria was very pregnant. You’re going to love her. She’s hilarious. She’s brilliant. I said, okay, I’ll come another day.

This really bothers me, I got to tell you, still to this day because there was a second time I said, I’m going. I got dressed. I got there, and the same thing happened. I got a call. “Don’t come.” Then when Dottie went through her journey to the other side, everything fell into place and made sense. She was with her daughter. She was with her husband. She was with her son and her daughter-in-law. She was with the people she wanted to be with. I would just sit here and pray to her and just go, hey Dottie, listen, I’m here, whatever you need. It was rough. That was rough. She was not about death. She was about living. That’s why I thought to put her in a bar with Pat Conroy. All we ever did was make jokes about cocktails and things like that. When you’re on a book tour and you can’t get a drink, that’s really rich when you can’t have a glass of wine. I’ve got pink. I’ve got red. She would tell you all these great, crazy stories. It was a highly charged time, her transition. Victoria will tell you it was also very peaceful. She finally went, oh, okay, all right, this is what this is going to be. She was a person of faith. She had a deep faith. She would never call herself religious, I don’t think; spiritual, but she was religious too, I believe.

Zibby: Wow. She was lucky to call you a friend. All of you guys did a beautiful job, truly. It was amazing. I think everybody deserves a book like this.

Adriana: You do. You said that, and I love that. Isn’t this a great idea, though, everybody to do it?

Zibby: Yes. Everyone should do this because you can’t always go to people’s memorial services. It’s not like people record them so you can watch them, usually. Then you miss getting to know that person. How hard would it be? Everybody today should just email the six to eight people they want to have essays written by and say —

Adriana: — Say it right now.

Zibby: Get ready. When I die, you’re one of my essay writers. I’ll never be able to proof it, but you could send it ahead of time if you want.

Adriana: Be aspirational. Pick Zadie Smith. See if she’ll write it. You got to pick people you know.

Zibby: Back to you for two seconds, how did you become who you are today? Where did you get your start professionally? Let’s just go there. How did you start being a writer and getting into all the different content areas, film, and everything you do? It’s amazing. How did you start? How did it grow?

Adriana: First of all, I grew up in a place that — I call them the best people in the world, the Appalachian people in the coal mining region of Virginia in the Southwest corner. It’s called Far Southwest Virginia. It borders Tennessee, Kentucky, North Carolina, West Virginia, Virginia. That’s your little hub there. Did I say Tennessee? That’s also in there. My dad was in — you’ll appreciate this — the schmata business. We were all, on that side of family — interesting it’s all sartorial — garment manufacturers. My grandmother on the other side was a seamstress. My grandfather was a shoemaker. Everybody Italian immigrants, so I’m completely Italian. How do you say that? I don’t know. Both sides, as Stanley Tucci says. I love him. My dad gets this — during the late sixties, they had this thing called the War on Poverty program. Appalachia was from Southern New York all the way down to Georgia. It still is. What am I saying? The Appalachian Trail. If you study American history, you know that every important art form and tech emanated from Appalachia on some level. Usually, if we’re talking about music, it’s the African American. That became the bluegrass. That became soul. That became rock and roll. All came out of there. Yet the Appalachian people are very maligned. We’re called hillbillies, hilljacks. You get the names.

As Italian Americans and Roman Catholics that lived there — there weren’t a lot of Catholics. There was one Jewish family. We did Seder every year together during Passover. It was fantastic. It was that kind of an upbringing. I would call it not only diverse, sort of enchanted and interesting and different. It starts there. They were very arty in my town, Big Stone Gap. They had an outdoor drama, which I never was in, but idolized it. They had a town musical. I worked on the crew. I’d be in the chorus. Actually, got interested in that because they would cast my brother. I have a younger brother, Carlo, who could sing. That kind of got me into the theater. I liked the director. They’d get these fancy directors like a guy with a pipe. Where’d he come from? He’d come in and he’d the direct local women and men. They did the Rodgers and Hammerstein canon. The star in every show was Barbara Pauley who was just a great lady. She starred in the outdoor drama. It’s a small town. That led me to playwriting.

I began as a poet. It might be the worst career there is. Except now with Amanda Gorman, it’s better. The word’s spreading. I knew of the great poets like Rita Dove and Nikki Giovanni and the Southern or Midwestern — I was big fans of theirs. I would write poetry. The poetry wasn’t great. When I got to St. Mary’s, I was determined to be a theater major because I knew I wanted to direct. Then you have to study all the disciplines. They had a great co-department with Notre Dame. It was a terrific department. I got to write and direct on the main stage like the professionals. I became a professional at nineteen. I could write a play. Then I won prize. I went, okay, I can go to New York and make this work. When I got to New York, I started a comedy troupe called The Outcast Girls. We were on the circuit for seven years. I was broke. Zibby, I was so broke. You don’t even know anybody you can borrow money from. I was an office temp at Merrill Lynch, which I was very bad at. I said I was worth every penny at six bucks an hour. I worked in a movie theater. I got fired from there because I kept breaking the letters. Do you remember Cinema Village over at the — that was my theater.

Zibby: Yes, I totally remember that.

Adriana: A friend of mine said — I was having trouble finding a nice boyfriend. He said, “You know, if you sold tickets over there, you’re well-lit under glass.” I couldn’t make change. It was a disaster. Then I kept breaking the letters. The owner of the theater said to me, “Those letters are more expensive than what we’re paying you. You have to go.” I never knew that they put it on a stick and stuck it up there. You’d have to slide in it. It was like an Olympic feat. Anyway, got canned from there. I had jobs. I was a nanny. I did all these jobs as I was writing plays and screenplays. Then I sold a screenplay in Hollywood. I had an off-Broadway production at Manhattan Theater Club starring Camille Saviola called Secrets of the Lava Lamp where Mel Gussow kicked my hiney, which was great. You want to get your hiney kicked by him. Then I got a job in television. Then it took off on A Different World. Do you remember A Different World?

Zibby: Yes, of course.

Adriana: With Jasmine Guy and all those guys. Love them. I still love them. I try to cast them whenever I can. I know this sounds crazy, but every ten years, look at your life. Some people say seven. It’s more biblical. I do seven, but it takes me ten to get the job done. I just keep reinventing and saying, what else do I want to accomplish? Once I did the playwriting and I did that, I knew I would always be those things. Then I wrote for TV. I didn’t watch TV when I was growing up. I was a reader. We didn’t get good reception down in those mountains. That led me to being, really, a full-time dramatist in television and film. I wrote for A Different World, Good Sports with Farrah Fawcett and Ryan O’Neal. Bill Persky, one of my great — he’s family to me still, honorary dad, brother, everything. He’s the greatest. He created Kate & Allie and That Girl. I worked with him on a show with Jane Curtin. Then I did a special for Lifetime. You see how it worked? It just all sort of — I’m very proud of City Kids. Do you remember City Kids?

Zibby: No. I’m sorry.

Adriana: Your kids need to watch it. It’s still . We did it in 1993 with The CityKids Foundation and Jim Henson. I worked for that company. I love them very much too. I had all these things. I did pilots. Then I made a documentary film. The documentary film won the Audience Award in The Hamptons and Palm Springs, which led me to — see, every ten years — led me to this gentleman who ran the shooting gallery that had just done Sling Blade. Then I said, “I have this idea called Big Stone Gap.” He said, “What is it?” I told him this idea. Then I wrote the screenplay. Then my friend Suzanne, aforementioned, read it and said, “You know what? This is a book. Can you write a novel?” I was like, “I don’t know.” I was at my ten-year mark. I went, “I’ll try.” I took a couple years. Then I delivered it. It sold. Now we’re twenty books in. Zibby, this is my thing. I’m speaking to the choir here because I can just tell by what you’re doing. We have a mutual dear friend, Christina Geist. I called her about you. I said, “Tell me about Zibby. What do you think?” She loves you.

Zibby: I love her too.

Adriana: I said, “I think what she’s doing is fantastic.” I think it’s important. I think it’s going to lead you to roads you never imagined for yourself. That’s what this is all about. By the way, think about it, every children’s book you read to your kids was written by a woman. You got Mo Willems and some of our friends, Tomie dePaola. Think Pippi Longstocking, Heidi. I consider Jane Eyre. That was on the cusp. I read it when I was eleven. Those books are all — this is a great gift to women, this profession, publishing. Did I talk too much? Yes.

Zibby: No. I loved it. It was amazing. You’re amazing. I adore you.

Adriana: Mutual, baby.

Zibby: It’s just so exciting. I’m so impressed with that idea that you can constantly reinvent yourself. As you said, yes, this has already taken me in a thousand directions I never would’ve imagined.

Adriana: That’s what I wanted to do. When I talk to authors, I say, you created the world. Learn how to direct movies, would you please? Listen, I take to it because I’m dramatist. I was destined to direct because I directed plays and I love actors. I know how to do that. They always say to me, how’d you get that cast? That’s not the deal. You have to create a family with those actors. They’ve got to all be in the same movie. I’m not going to tell you it hasn’t been a struggle. It’s a struggle, but it’s going to change for our kids, which thrills me. I’ll be dead. They’ll be directing. That’s what I want. I say this to authors all the time. Can you do it? I want you to go home and sleep on it. If you want to, come and follow me around. Call Steven Spielberg. Say, can I follow you around? You know what? They’ll say yes. You got to learn how to do it. People are cowed by the technical. You will learn that. The hard part is the emotions. The hard part is empowering that beautiful actor to give what he or she has got to the story. That’s the part that’s important. Then you get Rey Villalobos. You just get a great cinematographer. It’s a very intimate relationship. I will say that. This is sad. Look how yellowed — I have to turn the lights on. Look how yellow. It’s upside down. This has been on my desk for years also. This is from Federico Fellini. Everybody will try and scare you with technique. First freaking thing they did. Producers come and go. To them, you are a project that could happen or not happen. To you, I’m making this happen. If they’re not interested, after a while you just go, hey, I don’t think you’re into this. You’ve had this project for years, and you haven’t done anything with it. They’ll say, we called people. Well, get it done.

Listen, the biggest thing is Big Stone Gap got it done. It’s a beautiful movie. Everybody will try to scare you with technique, but don’t let them intimidate you. You want to tell the story like you’re telling it to a friend. Think about that. You’re a creating a movie like, I’m telling you this story almost like a joke, how you tell a joke. If you’re a good storyteller, you will be able to do it. If you don’t have that talent, all the technique in the world won’t help you. Federico Fellini. Okay, so the point is, you write a book. You created a world. Now you have to figure out how to dramatize that world. I should throw this out because I have to give her credit. I was a theater major, had great professors. I moved to New York. Through a couple of girls that were — everybody was starting theater companies. I would be the person that went in and said, okay, I’ll write your play for you. There was an acting company that needed a playwright, so they picked me. This is through my friend Becky Brauder Newstat . I met the great director George Keathley. He won Emmys for being a television director in the soaps in New York. Prior to that, he directed the first stuff of Tennessee Williams. This was this robust, gorgeous man. Then he went on to be the artistic director at Kansas City.

I went and did a play out there for them. He reads my plays. He sits me down. Listen, I’m twenty-two years old. I’m a baby. He said, “You know what? You got talent, but you need help.” I was like, “Okay.” He said, “I’m going to send you to somebody.” I thought, oh, god. He said, “Ruth Goetz.” I went like this. Ruth Goetz, wife of Augustus Goetz, they created The Heiress. They wrote The Heiress together and then adapted the screenplay. I knew everything about Ruth Goetz, which was sort of hilarious. He said, “She’ll call you.” I’m living at a boarding house on 10th Street called Milbank House. There’s one phone on each floor. You’re talking about — this is the eighties. You were little. I was young. Go over there. The phone rings. It’s her. She says, “I want you to come at nine AM sharp to such-and-such East Fifty-something Street for lessons.” For the next seven years, I went there. She ripped everything I wrote apart. Oh, my gosh, I learned from her. To this day, I have friends call me. What would Ruth have said? She has essential rules, which eventually I’ll write because I’ll die, and they’ll be gone. She was so great. I come from a family that’s very loud and bombastic. My father was very strict. When people are very direct with me, it doesn’t cow me. I kind of have to decipher, what do they want me to do? That was that. I rambled on again. I had to mention Ruth because I think she would be your neighbor up there. She’s now in heaven.

Zibby: Amazing. I could talk to you all day. Let’s continue in person at some point. Thank you so much for coming on “Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books.” Thank you for this ridiculously fun conversation that just set my day off on the right path. Thank you for talking about Reunion Beach, which was amazing.

Adriana: Everybody read it. Get it. I think it’d be beautiful for Mother’s Day based on what Victoria wrote to her mother. As you know, all the stories are wonderful. It’s great people. You’ll love it.

Zibby: Perfect. Thank you so much.

Adriana: I’ll see you on my thing.

Zibby: I’ll see you on your thing.

Adriana: Can’t wait.

Zibby: Bye.

Adriana: Thank you.

Reunion Beach by Adriana Trigiani

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