When I was thirty-four, my husband died in a tragic car accident. At the time of his death I had reconnected with my high school sweetheart on Facebook, which, at the time, in 2007, was in its infancy. The timing of my husband's death, our troubled marriage, and the rekindling of a love that I thought was long over resulted in a chain of events that I could never have predicted, not even in my wildest dreams.
I wrote this book seven years after the death of my husband. I wrote it because I needed to heal, because I wanted to heal, and most of all because I had carried secrets about my husband's death since the day he left this world.
Because I wanted to protect identities, I wrote the book as a novel instead of a memoir. This allowed me to reframe the story and write it from the perspectives of the protagonists, the antagonists, and my own personal viewpoint as a main character myself. I used the book as a tool to bring about healing as it breathed life, reasoning, answers and explanations into a tragedy that had torn a family apart for nearly a decade.
Through this process I healed, I forgave and I found my calling as a writer as I began to help others share their stories with the world.
That would be me. When I wrote this book I could never have imagined that it would take me on the incredible journey it did as a writer.
June 2014 - June 2015
Memoir writing as a novel