I had forgotten all about the fact that I had written a book. It was a tiny book of short stories that I found on my bookshelf. The title of the book is the same as the title of a story I wrote about my very good friend, Connie who got cancer and sadly died at aged 33. We had been friends since Grade 5. Connie had many friends. She was kind and accepting of everyone and we all loved her. After she died, I channeled my grief into a short story.
I hadn’t given any of that a thought when I did the same thing after my daughter, Justine was killed in a car accident. I began writing as a way of processing my feelings. I do know that I write when I’m upset or angry. It helps me move forward.