Right now I'm in the quarterfinals of The Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. It's a big deal. It would be a big deal any year for me to advance in a contest like this with my writing, but this year it's especially meaningful. The novel I've submitted was inspired by my father. Dad passed away in November, just before I entered.
"Dad, I made it in."
Friends and family who are close to me are excited for me. Others who haven't heard about the process don't really get the importance. But the one person who I would have really connected with while sharing my good news can't tell me what he thinks. He was a writer too.
My entry is
Dead, Sweet Boy. The story has been through so many revisions but the inspiration has stayed the same. Dad suffered a massive heart attack about 13 years ago and fell into a coma. After nine days in the coma, the doctors told us we had to make a difficult decision. We were told that the patriarch of our family was brain dead. We had to decide whether to pull the plug or keep him on life support.
To make a long and horrible story short - my father lived. He was "The Miracle Man." The doctors called it a miracle and we were given more time with a very special man. I didn't waste a minute of that time. You might say I soaked up the years like gravy on a biscuit. He was my treasure.
Dad had no idea he was in a coma. While he was away from us in the coma realm, he was fighting for his life. We called them "dreams" when we talked about them, but they were segments of time he spent away from us in that other realm and all of that time was spent trying to escape. Those "dreams" were so real to him that they never changed when he would talk about them.
I wanted to write a story that would express the experience my father had while exploring the questions the miracle planted in my heart. Where was he all that time? How did he make it back to us? Miracle?
Dead, Sweet Boy looks at the possibility that the person in a coma has a choice to come back. Sunny is a seventeen year old girl who is struggling with life in this realm and ends up in the coma realm. It's a Young Adult Fantasy with many surprising turns. It was inspired by my father.
So, that explains the writing. What about the donkeys? My horse lost her stable mate when he had to be put down. She was so lonely. I was deciding whether to sell her or get her a friend. It was during a hard time. I lost a job that was important to me and money was tight. Dad kept mentioning these miniature donkeys. The last thing I needed was more animals on the farm. But dad showed me an article in his local paper with an ad for Miniature Mediterranean Donkeys. Someone was selling their herd. I took the ad and left dad's house with my husband to go home. We turned back around and picked mom and dad up to go look at the donkeys. We came away with three little donkeys and that was the start.
If you have never seen a miniature donkey, you need to hunt one down just to have all the stereotypes ripped out of your brain. These little animals are the most loving, personality packed creatures out there. When they are born they weigh about 20 lbs and you can hold them in your lap. Our hearts were captured immediately.
About a week after buying the first donkeys, we went back to buy a trailer. My husband and I restored the trailer and we used it to go on our "donkey adventures" with mom and dad. As a group we became partners in a donkey business. Right now we have 13 donkeys and 3 foals on the way. This all happened last August and dad passed away in November. I really believe he knew he was going and wanted mom and I to have something fun to do together.
Anyway, the little boy in the picture is Wee Cuddie's Fergus. The first boy named for our farm. Oh and my horse? Dakota is as happy as can be with her wee friends.
So I guess the writing and the donkeys all come from dad. I wish I could go talk to him about the contest. He would be as excited as I am about the progress of my entry. Some of the comments I've gotten about the book were about the raw emotion in my excerpt. I revised my book just after my father passed away. I understand loss now. I know what it is to miss someone's presence in the room, or to turn to talk to them and they aren't there. The raw emotion in my excerpt comes from my own loss.
