My mum is 88 years old. She lives on her own in a very nice apartment, in a community of over-55s. Just now though, she lives with my brother because … a car ran into her kitchen. Luckily Mum wasn’t in the apartment at the time. I dread to think what could have happened. But she and we were spared. It’s just the apartment walls and windows, not Mum, awaiting repairs. Meanwhile Mum longs for the day she can go back to her regular life – coffee and conversation with friends, a quick trip to the shops, a walk by the sea. Poor Mum.
But our own Mike Simpson, of Indigo Sea Press, has produced something to cheer Mum up immensely. When he heard of her plight, and her desire to see my second novel in print, he most generously obliged. So now I’m heading to England to visit her, carrying with me a real, solid, physical, paperback copy of Infinite Sum – I hope the reading of it will cheer her infinite sum of woes. And I hope her apartment will be fixed soon. Meanwhile, thank you, thank you Mike!
Then I close my eyes and ponder … I’ll carry this novel, the story of a women weighed down by childhood abuse; and I’ll confess its origins in the dedication, a story inspired by mine; and I’ll pray … Mum, it’s a tale of recovery; don’t worry about me – I learned from the writing of it – I am more than I was. I am me!
All the same, it’s scary sometimes, sharing snippets of the past. But I’ll share the dedication page of my novel here, because it tells you the truth – it tells you who I am. And I hope it tells you why you’ll want to read what I’ve written – Infinite Sum.
I’ve been telling stories since the day I learned to talk, and writing them down since the day I learned to write. I suspect I’ve been waiting to tell this story since the day a trusted adult first abused me. But Infinite Sum is not my story, and Sylvia is not me, for which reason I really should thank all the wonderful people who rejected my first attempts at this novel; Sylvia’s feelings are just as honest as if they were mine, but I think her tale is much better told because it’s hers. After all, I’ve been telling stories, fiction not fact, since the day I learned to talk. It’s what I do.
I’m also enormously grateful to my mum. She has told me repeatedly, since the day I left home, that I ought to make use of my writing skills. Without Mum’s constant prayers and encouragement, this story would never have been written. Next, I’d like to thank those generous friends who encouraged me with early reviews—in particular authors Catherine Cavendish and Paulette Maturin, and most especially mystery author Aaron Paul Lazar who applied his razor-sharp fine-tooth comb to the final edits of the text. Thank you so much!
I must, of course, thank Indigo Sea Press as well, for trusting me enough to accept a second novel after Divide by Zero. Thank you Pan Morelli for the lovely cover. And I am grateful—I will always be grateful—to God for teaching me forgiveness is not my job.
What do you think? Will you read it? Will my mum be proud of me?