One of my all-time best friends is Gillian Flynn. Gillian, who pronounces her first name with a soft “G” (you’ll understand why I mention this in a bit), is the editor of Riviera Magazine in San Diego. We spent many a night hanging out at Pizza Port in Solana Beach, bonding over our news reporter backgrounds, nattering on about life and chiding Johnny, the crazy Irish dude, who was always seemed to be there, too.
One day while Workforce was still based in Southern California, I was doing a story search and came across a piece that was written in the late 1990s. When I clicked on the link, it wasn’t the headline or the lead sentence that grabbed my attention. It was the byline: Gillian Flynn. What? G – I always call her G – used to write for us? No way; in the ’90s? No. She would have definitely mentioned that to me.
I dashed off a quick email — something to the effect of, “Hey, G, did you ever write for Workforce? Your byline is on a bunch of stories in our archives.” She responded, “No,” but I pretty much knew that already. Before coming to the West Coast, G was a tough-as-nails reporter for the Associated Press covering all manner of crime and politics in the Northeast. HR was definitely not on her beat.
The mystery of the Gillian Flynn byline didn’t come up again. Not over beers at Pizza Port, fish tacos at the Brigantine or cocktails at Red Tracton’s — at least, not until well after Workforce’s move to Chicago in 2010.
On the train into work one day, I was perusing the daily tabloid RedEye, which always makes me feel incredibly unhip because I’m not hitting the bars, restaurants and chic events that all the other cool Chicagoans seem to go to. And there’s a story about Gillian Flynn. Gillian Flynn, author. Make that Gillian Flynn, famous author. Like, top of the New York Times fiction bestseller list famous author. Whoa, and she lives in Chicago.
Dash off a quick email to G in San Diego — something to the effect of, “Hey, G, did you know there’s a famous author here in Chicago who has the same name as you?” G, of course did, and said that she loved Chicago Gillian’s latest novel, “Gone Girl.” That’s the one perched atop the bestseller list that, oh by the way, hits the big screen this weekend.
That set me to ponder: Could Chicago Gillian Flynn possibly be connected to the mystery Workforce byline from the ’90s? A little online sleuthing in fact pointed to Gillian having written for a human resources publication and living in SoCal before embarking on her career as a novelist. Not concrete evidence, but close enough.
As it so happened, Chicago Gillian was set to be on “The Interview Show With Mark Bazer,” a first-Friday-of-the-month, Letterman-Fallon-Kimmel-like talk show at local hangout the Hideout. I decided to head over, which immediately lifted my unhip quotient a notch because I nailed the triumvirate of RedEye hipness: cool event/venue/drinks in one fell swoop (an extra notch for saying the Hideout is on Wabansia Avenue, just because Wabansia is such a cool-sounding word).
Besides Chicago Gillian, Bazer talked with a couple of cast members from “Hair” and Tony Magee, the founder of Lagunitas Brewing (free IPAs on the house!). Gillian was engaging, funny and just, well, very normal. Oh, and Chicago Gillian pronounces her name with a hard “G.”
After her appearance, and before a showing of “Woodstock” on the lawn outside, I wanted to ask Gillian if she was the woman behind the mystery byline. Of course, I wasn’t alone in wanting to meet the author. As Gillian sipped a Lagunitas (from the bottle no less) and patiently chatted with dozens of fans, I bought a copy of “Gone Girl” to have it signed for San Diego Gillian.
When the crowd thinned out, I handed her a copy of Workforce’s 90th anniversary edition and asked, “Did you used to write for this magazine?” She smiled a big smile and her face lit up, so we chatted all things Workforce, how it was her first job out of college, that her editor at the time Allan Halcrow was an amazing mentor and how she transitioned from covering HR to writing best-selling novels. It wasn’t a straight path from one to the other, but it basically boiled down to a desire and willingness, she told me.
I mentioned our six degrees of separation — or maybe it’s two degrees. Whatever the math, I asked if she knew about Gillian Flynn in San Diego and mentioned that she is one of my best friends. She smiled again as we chatted about soft G versus hard G, San Diego and Chicago, how coincidental that I now know both. As she signed it from one Gillian to another, she mused, “I always wondered about these random press releases I’d get with my name.” San Diego Gillian told me she got Chicago Gillian’s high school reunion invite.
Several weeks later I emailed both Gillians. Subject line: Gillian Flynn, meet Gillian Flynn
“And to think I know you both. How lucky am I?
“Hey, I finally wanted to virtually introduce the two of you. Sorry it took so long. Now instead of errant press releases it can be legit correspondence.
“Chicago Gillian – your book is next on my to-read list. Got a major thumbs-up from my boss here at Workforce (as well as from San Diego Gillian!)
“San Diego Gillian — I’ll be back for Torie’s birthday in late October. Can’t wait!
“Again, how lucky am I?”
The sentiment hasn’t changed either; how lucky am I?