While searching for some royalty information, I came across a book I read a while back that included scenes from my life. Real scenes.
Over the years, the author had seen certain things in my life, had witnessed certain woundings and celebrations, and they’d been firmly planted in her mind. When she wrote a particular novel, she used some of those scenes from my life, but not so much as straight non-fiction. The scenes hadn’t happened exactly that way but the emotions had and so the scenes were true to the situation. The personalities and flaws and insights were there.
On one level, I got a kick out of her descriptions. On another, it was deeply touching that she’d understood.
The Book of Heroes — a paranormal thriller where books are alive and the librarian is not what she seems. Available direct from the author → Or read it free in my online Library.
But the oddest thing was that, as a reader, the issues were so obvious to me whereas I’d lived much of it emotionally and had never seen it quite so clearly. I don’t know that it would have made a difference if I’d read scenes from my life while they were happening. When I was in the muck, I didn’t recognize it. Now that I’m out, I recognize the emotions and issues of that time, but I don’t so much recognize the person I was.
A Southern witch returns home. Secrets won’t stay buried. A chance to confront and heal—or face the consequences.
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