The Story Behind The Story:
When I took on the subject of widowhood in my 2001 bestselling novel “Some Sunday,” I never thought that just three years later, I would come to know widowhood up close and personal.
It happened in April of 2004. We had just come back from burying my husband’s grandfather in New York the day before. The next morning my husband went out for a jog and never came back. He suffered an aneurism while running and died on the scene.
I remember being at the Police station, hearing a detective telling me that my husband had died, and suddenly I was watching some woman who looked just like me scream. It was like watching a movie.
Except it wasn’t a movie, it was my life— un-expectantly widowed and left to raise two young sons on my own. Eventually I stopped screaming and got myself together. In the moments after, my life became a series of ‘doing what needed to be done.' But in the quiet times of my grief I felt abandoned, alone, afraid, bewildered, hurt and very, very pissed with both God and my husband. I didn't think I would survive.
But I did survive. Through what I now see as God's mercy, me and my children pulled through. It was not an easy road, or a quick one and some days I felt as if I couldn't go on. I'd hurt and ache and cry, overwhelmed. I put on the brave face, took care of my family, all the while feeling so very lost and alone.
My life had been blown to smithereens and it took a lot of time to gather those pieces back together. I shopped, a lot. I redecorated my house and took trips. I filled my closets with new things, trying to patch the holes of my life. I joined a gym and sweated out my pain. I did a lot but writing wasn't one of them. Writing about being a widow wasn't even a consideration.
I had already dealt with that subject matter in my 2001 novel "Some Sunday" and felt no need to re-tell it again. But something happened on the way to the forum, so to speak. Something I hadn’t planned on, didn’t see coming or anything. One day while looking out my dining room window, I saw the mountains that I had claimed as my own. And even though they are located in Georgia, in my mind they always represented Tennessee. I would sit outside and stare at the rise of God's earth and feel a deep sense of peace. It gave me hope. Made me feel less alone and more importantly, told me that God was still in charge.
I considered those mountains a beacon of hope, a source of joy. A gift. It was during one of my gazings that a title came into my head -- "In Search of Tennessee Sunshine". There wasn't any great mystery about what the title meant. I had come through the dark days of being mad at God and sorrowed in my life, to seek out a brighter day. But I dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. In Search of Tennessee Sunshine...whatever.
But the title would not stay away. I'd look at 'my' mountains and it would come to mind. In early spring when fog banks would ride its edges, it would come to mind. I had no plans of writing that or any story. Writing had been a part of my old life. This was my new one. But one day I dared myself to try. I dared myself to 'not write'. I dared myself to opened up a a new Word document and not put a single word down. Of course I lost the dare.
An extremely private person, I wrote the story, taking bits and pieces of my own experience. Because I had no plans on publishing it, I was free to tell it like it was. Half way through, all I wanted was to finish it and put the words "THE END" on the last page and be done with. I wrote it, stuck in the drawer with a bunch of other novels that never got published and went on with my life. I released two novels that I started before my husband died and felt as if the writing bug had left the building for good.
I attended author events, publicly announced that I would never write another story again and kept on living to the best of my ability. I 'forgot' about "In Search of Tennessee Sunshine" and went on with my life.
I believed the writer in me had died when my husband did. I believe that my writing days were over and that was that. I didn't know what I would do with the rest of my life, but writing surely wasn't going to be it. But as my character Erica often thinks: sometimes life gets in the way of your plans...
What happened? Life happened. God happened. Fellow authors inspirational journeys happened. I realized that I had been trying to duck and weave from the gift God had given me. I realized that though my purpose on this earth was many-fold, trying to ignore one of the most significant ones wasn't going to work. That God wasn't going to let me be, until I was true who I was supposed to be--a writer. That every 'goodbye' ain't gone....
So, there you have it. The 'story' behind story. "In Search of Tennessee Sunshine" is the most honest book I’ve written to date. Many will read it and speculate what’s the real parts and what’s the made up. I will confess to none of it, only that it was written from a widow's perspective. I'll leave all speculation to the readers and will state that all names, dates and places have been changed to protect the innocent (smiling).
It is my wish that you read it, enjoy it and get something from it. It is my wish that you will be able to cull bits and pieces and apply it, in some way, to your own day-to-day. But mostly it is my hope that this story will let you know, that even in the darkest, most difficult moments, look for the light...it will get you through...and may you all find your own bit of Tennessee Sunshine....
As always, I invite you all to drop me a line at: mjhreaders@yahoo.com. Until next time, may your life be filled with love, light, and understanding. Until next time,
Peace and Blessings,
Margaret
