Two Former Enemies Wrote a Murder Mystery Together — And No One Died (Exclusive)

In an exclusive essay, Birdie Horne — the pen name of author team Eden Roberts and MW Gargiulo — reflect on their debut co-written novel ‘Don’t Cross Mo Ellery’

NEED TO KNOW

• Authors and “former enemies” Eden Roberts and MW Gargiulo formed an unlikely alliance as a writing team
• The authors will publish their debut co-written novel, Don’t Cross Mo Ellery, on Aug. 11, under the pen name Birdie Holmes
• In an exclusive essay for PEOPLE, the writers look back on their unexpected partnership

Our story starts out in a typical way. Not until later does it go completely haywire.

Setting: college. Girl meets Boy. Then, Other Girl meets Boy. Both Girls want Boy. Boy is…definitely unaware of the tension he is causing. There is dating. There is breaking up. There is a lot of forbidden longing, much of it nerdy. There are love songs sung during a cappella concerts and secret kissing rehearsals for plays.

One Girl hurls a cordless telephone, back when that was a distinction one made about phones (target: wall). Jealousy abounds! Their friend groups are enemies, but in a way that makes you want to sing and snap like they do in West Side Story. And, like in West Side Story, the Girls are ready to take this beef to the grave. They hate each other.

And — surprise — this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship!

‘Birdie Horne‘ is actually two people — Eden Robins and MW Garguilo, the aforementioned Girls. And the story of how we went from being mortal enemies to writing a comedy murder mystery novel together is worthy of its own novel. Probably a cheesy but heartwarming one about how life can be unpredictable in wonderful ways—and how important relationships can blossom out of the least likely circumstances.

If you knew us in person, you would know that neither of us is really the “fighting over a guy” type. And the guy in question isn’t generally the drama queen type either. All three of us, ironically, pride ourselves on the importance of our friendships. And science seems to agree: One massive study found that strong friendships boost longevity by 50%.

Other research (on female friendships in particular) suggests that in stressful situations, rather than “fight or flight,” women are more likely to “tend and befriend” each other, which ultimately reduces stress hormones and increases social cohesion.

Basically, our super-scientific takeaway is that by defying the odds and becoming friends, we have cheated death! There is no other logical conclusion.

So how did we go from mortal enemies to besties? Act Two of this story takes place in Cincinnati, Ohio. Setting: the wedding of The Boy. (Very important to note that neither of us is the bride at this wedding). We had each, somewhat miraculously, remained good friends with The Boy. Eden was to be a groomswoman. MW was the photographer.

During the wedding rehearsals, we smiled politely at each other. During the reception, we made pleasant small talk, because we were grown-ups now. Besides, we were seated at the same table.

But it wasn’t until the afterparty, in a dank basement pool hall, that Eden dredged up the courage to talk to MW for real — thanks in no small part to a little liquid courage.

“I’m sorry I was such a [redacted] to you,” Eden said.

“I’m sorry I was such a [redacted] to YOU!” MW said.

We hugged and took a shot of something awful to seal our friendship for good.

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That moment alone would’ve made a totally adequate ending for a novel. But over the course of the next several years in Chicago, our friendship grew, during movie nights and house parties; camping trips and clothing swaps.

We inadvertently kept renting apartments closer and closer to each other, until eventually only an alley separated our kitchen windows. We each got married and cried at the other’s wedding. And then our mutual ex-boyfriend, now a very good friend to us both, named us co-godmothers of his middle child.

Once again, we’ve found ourselves at another totally respectable, even surprising, ending. From feuding love interests to co-godmothers? That never happens.

But the story doesn’t end here either.

MW got a book deal, and then Eden got one of her own. Separately, we weathered the thrills and (more often) chills of the publishing industry. Adulthood came for us. Our parents aged. We lost family and friends. We lost pregnancies and jobs. Money was tight. Having a long-time friend just an alley away became one of the anchors of our lives.

It even benefited our husbands: Eden accidentally locked her barefoot husband out of the apartment and then fell asleep — but then MW’s husband spotted him peeing on a dumpster and brought him in to sleep on the couch. How’s that for social cohesion?

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Then, of course, the COVID-19 pandemic arrived, and we weathered it together, taking care of each other and our friendship in the face of uncertainty. We watched movies in Eden’s backyard, and had a star-lit dance party of four for MW’s birthday.

When the world started to open up again, though, the depression and anxiety lingered. Life just felt less shiny. Even our individual writing projects, once joyful and exciting, had become sluggish and uninspired.

And so, Act Three begins in 2024, when MW made a bonkers proposal: “What if we wrote a book together?”

“I’m listening,” Eden replied.

“What if,” MW said, “the whole point was just to spend time together and make each other laugh and remember that writing books is supposed to be fun? What if publication was just a nice-to-have instead of an end goal?”

So we did it. And maybe because our friendship was so hard-won, we took extra care with each other during the writing process. We met at the British-style pub down the street and started every writing session with a check-in. We didn’t critique our first draft; we didn’t even worry about making the mystery work yet — our only goal was to make each other laugh.

We came up with a safe word that either of us could invoke if we got frustrated but didn’t know how to talk about it (It was “pineapple.” Or maybe “pancakes.” In the end, we never had to use it — it was just nice to know we could).

Together, the writing felt low-stakes and low-pressure, which is to say, we actually felt joyful again, while simultaneously feeling closer to each other.  It’s no wonder that we wrote a book about unlikely friendships and the importance of being neighbors. (Oh, and murder. With a little bit of spice.)

That book became our forthcoming co-written mystery Don’t Cross Mo Ellery, but we made sure the fun always came first. And sometimes we imagine time-traveling back to our feuding teenage selves and saying, “Guess what, hoes, one day you’re going to write novels together,” before skipping off, arm in arm, toward the campus dive bar to take a shot of something awful.

Don’t Cross Mo Ellery is now available from William Morrow Paperbacks, wherever books are sold.

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