When the bestselling writer’s assistant bowls up her own book
By Susan Horsburgh
Author Sally Hepworth, 43, didn’t know her assistant, Amy Lovat, 34, had written a book until she learnt they were about to share a publisher. Now the pair are fast friends who say “Pah!” to professional boundaries.
Sally Hepworth (right) on Amy Lovat: “She reads my emails, but also early versions of my books, which involves great vulnerability.”Credit: Charlie Kinross
Amy: Sally’s a big deal: a New York Times bestselling author who’s sold more than a million books. I’d looked up to her for years so, in late 2021, when she posted an Instagram call-out for an assistant, I responded with a letter that included Devil Wears Prada memes and GIFs. She called and we had a long chat about family, her ADHD and even our UTI horror stories. It was the weirdest job interview; it felt as if we’d known each other forever.
At first, I tried to maintain a respectful distance, but then she’d randomly text me: “What shoes should I wear to my book launch?” A few months later, I was offered a publishing deal [for her debut novel, Mistakes and Other Lovers] and felt nervous asking for advice: I didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of her connections. I emailed, “Your publisher wants to read my book, but he doesn’t know I’m your assistant.” Three minutes later, she’s screeching down the phone: “Tell me everything!”
“[Sally’s] living this dream author life, but she’s taught me you can still be yourself.”
Amy Lovat
I was nervous about her reading it because it’s not what she usually likes. Some call it
Millennial fiction: exploring the messy space between adolescence and adulthood. What if she thought it was shit? But she messaged something like, “Your voice is so fresh, so visceral … it’s really f---ing good.” I thought, “I’m going to cry – and then vomit.” I didn’t print it out and put it on my wall, but I thought about it. She helped me look over the contract, answered all my dumb questions and wrote an incredible cover quote.
I find it easy [Sally having ADHD] because she’s not a helicopter boss; she has to trust that something’s getting done because she doesn’t always have the capacity to circle back to it.
If she hasn’t responded to an email in a week, I know she’s forgotten, so I’ll resend it. Her job is to forget; mine is to remember.
We have a similar tone of voice on Instagram: tongue-in-cheek and self-deprecating, like we’re all in this mess together. Sally doesn’t take herself too seriously. She’s living this dream author life, but she’s taught me you can still be yourself. She’s funny and charismatic, but there’s nothing performative about it. At book signings she’ll have a chat with everyone; she’s an introvert but a people person, too.
She’s not someone you’d rely on to remember important dates or events in your life – she didn’t text me on my birthday this year until 10pm and was so apologetic – but I’ve had several freak-outs and she listens, gives great advice and we laugh. I got my first not-great review and, with Sally’s help, it was water off a duck’s back. She used to read out her own one-star reviews on Instagram!
When I signed the deal, she said, “Do you mind helping me find a new assistant?” but I’ll be her assistant for as long as she’ll have me. She jokes that we need to get someone who can be an assistant to both of us, go the full Devil Wears Prada. We need an Andy and an Emily!
“Amy’s incredibly organised and I’m incredibly disorganised. I’m excellent at getting myself into hullabaloos; that’s why I need her.”
Sally Hepworth
Sally: I didn’t know Amy had written a manuscript because I’m an idiot and didn’t ask. She was very professional and didn’t want to blur the boundaries, but with me there are no boundaries. Amy had been shortlisted in the Varuna Pitch Me! prize and [publisher] Alex [Lloyd] had messaged her not knowing she was my assistant. I rang Alex and said, “Do you know this is my Amy?” – I call her that territorially. “You need to give her more money.”
It feels patronising to call myself her mentor because she’s so smart and savvy. When Amy talks about hero worship it makes me laugh because she’s 100 per cent a better writer than me. Her writing about that angsty, 20-something period is gritty and original. Older people sell youth like it’s this glorious golden ticket, but it’s not always. Amy captures that vulnerability, that feeling that you have to have achieved something, so well. I just wanted to learn how to cook rice without a rice cooker by the time I turned 30. Amy wanted to be published.
She’s an overachiever; she has that gig-economy work ethic. She’ll say, “I’m thinking of doing a new Zoom book club with [her business] Secret Book Stuff” and I’ll be like, “Wow, I’m thinking of having a nap.” She’s so earnest. I’m perimenopausal, which has made me a miserable bitch – I’ve reached my cynical years – but she’s all sunshine and lollipops because she’s young and idealistic. Our favourite thing is when we disagree on a book. I can’t read Sally Rooney; I’m like, “Make something happen!”
Amy’s incredibly organised and I’m incredibly disorganised. I’m excellent at getting myself into hullabaloos; that’s why I need Amy. All I remember of the early days is the terror that she was going to leave me. I think she was taken aback by how open I was, like flinging all my passwords at her. But she’s incredibly trustworthy and we quickly developed an intimacy: she reads my emails, but also early versions of my books, which involves great vulnerability.
As a friend, Amy’s attentive and all the things I’m not: she remembers people’s birthdays and does thoughtful things, like bringing coffees. She’s really good at checking in if I haven’t been on social media for a few days or I’m stressed with deadlines. About 18 months ago, I started losing my hair and that was a really shit time. She just knew. I was diagnosed with androgenetic alopecia and was crying about it for weeks – because if you don’t have good hair, what have you got? Now I have wonderful wigs but, back then, I said, “I can’t put my face on Instagram.” Amy said, “I’ll put my face on your Instagram.” She had me covered.
Amy came to Melbourne from Sydney a few weeks ago and, within five minutes, she was in my wardrobe and we were trying on clothes, getting changed in front of each other. She’s been a gift: as an assistant and as a friend. She’s so warm and giving, and of course we have the shared interests of writing and reading, but it’s who she is. We just love each other.
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