In 2018, when I decided to gather the bits of information, journals, diaries, court transcripts and the letters from my life and put them into a book, I had no idea of looking for a developmental editor. I had never thought of myself as a writer, struggled to see myself as an author and had not a lot of thought about how to embark on such a project. I had a burning desire to help others to see that there is goodness in the world and that there is happiness after hardship and a light at the end of the tunnel. Telling people parts of my story seemed to elicit tears, happiness, and wonderment in equal measures.
Perhaps I should—but could I?—write a book?
I had no idea where this decision would lead. Nor did I realize how hard it would be to negotiate the personalities of the significant others in my life who thought they could govern what I could and couldn’t reveal on paper. The actual writing turned out to be the easy part of the process.
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