I thought I would start out with the article that talks about what started it all. I was away from writing for many, many years and this gives some insight into what brought me back.
Epiphany of the Soul
I couldn’t sleep last night. Not sure the exact reason, but I had the image that went through my mind that got me back to writing. It may have been finding the old articles I’d written in high school, I’m not really sure. By the time I finished writing it all out, I realized it was something I had to share. This “vision” started in about June of 2000. Each time it came to my mind I’d get a little more detail about the woman and her world around her, but this was my initial meeting with her.
I saw a woman on a hill. Kind of a “Sound of Music” type of hill, but maybe not quite that big. It was covered with lush, green grass. Grass that is like animal fur. It looks so soft, you want to pet it just to feel it’s softness against your skin.
This woman stood on the hill in a white, flowing gown. It’s sleeves and long skirt were slaves to the wind, blowing against her body. She had long, black hair that also flew out behind her like a cape in the wind. I couldn’t see her face, only a bit of her profile. She was lit by the full moon, but she didn’t gaze at it or any part of the sky filled with stars as far as the eye could see. She stared straight ahead, stoic and hard. If a person didn’t know better, they could mistake her for a statue or a ghost.
But I knew she was a woman, flesh and blood and I had to know who she was. I moved around her and saw a beautiful face staring back at me. Her tears still coursed through already laid paths on her cheeks. She stood on this hill in the wind, crying. Yet she gave no physical sign aside from the tears and slightly reddened eyes. She stood proud and tall. Her chest didn’t heavy from the strain of sobs, her shoulders didn’t shake and she never made a move to dry her cheeks. She held her head high, not allowing it to hang down in her sadness. Her lips didn’t quiver, but hung slightly open as if to breathe more easily. But her eyes…
Shiny with tears, they were openly defiant. It was as if she screamed to the wind and gathering storm with those eyes. “I am strong. You cannot break me or even bend me. I am as strong as this hill I stand upon and as strong as the wall I stand before. You cannot bend me. You will never break me.”
I needed to find this woman. I wanted to understand her. I needed a fraction of that strength in me. I wanted to become her. She became the heroine of my first historical novel.
I stole her strength to survive my divorce and the loneliness that followed. When I testified at my final divorce hearing about the evidence I had proving my ex-husband’s adultery, it was this woman that stood next to me when I had no one else. I had to face him alone, but in the end, she held my shoulders back and whispered I could do it. After that hearing and the crying, I began to write her story. I felt I owed her that much for the strength she gave me in that courtroom.
Now, I know all about her, her brothers, her dreams and fears. She is a part of me, and I a part of her. She holds a special place in my heart. Perhaps someday I will share her story here. I think you would enjoy getting to know her.
8:32:23 AM 
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