Jean's Piece for November 3rd:  "Staying Open to Serendipity"

             Welcome to the third day of the blog tour for ALWAYS MY BROTHER.  I’m hosting today, because it’s the fourth anniversary of the death of my son, John Reagan Philips.  For weeks I grappled with what to write.  The horror of this day four years ago?  No, too grim.  The celebration of his life?  Positive, but not helpful to folks who didn’t know him.  (Visit “Story Behind,” FAQs, and John’s obituary on my website for these stories and photos.)

            Finally I landed on the topic, “Staying Open to Serendipity.”  It’s positive.  It’s universal.  And, for me, it pertains to John. 

            I’ll start with a John story.  As aspiring authors know, rejection letters are a necessary step towards publication.  Once when I was away on a trip, I called home and John read me a week’s worth of publisher responses.  Each one started “Dear Author,” a clear indication of a rejection letter.  I grumbled, so John offered me these words, “But Mom, they’re calling you author.”  After John died, these words kept me writing.  I dedicate today to John, who first called me author.

Staying Open to Serendipity

            Serendipity graced the writing and publishing journey of ALWAYS MY BROTHER numerous times. 

            The most miraculous example is that my manuscript landed on my editor Audrey Maynard’s desk on the anniversary of her brother’s death.  And, wow, this was the right place for my book.  How so?

            Audrey understands deeply, the emotional story of sibling loss.  When I explained why I absolutely needed the scene where Becky (the surviving sister in my book) is so overcome with emotion that she runs to her room and slams the door, Audrey responded, “Don’t worry, Jean.  I’ve already added the word hard.”  She gets it.

             Because I trusted her insights, I didn’t whine and rebel (very much) when she insisted I “dig deep” to be authentic.  The hardest scene to write was when Becky feels guilty because she forgot to “miss John” while having fun at a birthday party.  How should the mom respond to comfort her?  If I had a random editor, I would not have willingly, painfully struggled to find the appropriate, comforting response. 

            But, most importantly, Audrey understood the need to change the book’s title.  I called it MISSING JOHN.  She helped me realize my book was about healing, not just missing.  It was about ALWAYS MY BROTHER.  Because for her, too, Thomas is always her brother. 

Another example of serendipity:

            My early drafts were cluttered with lots of possible threads—a helpful best friend, recurring ice cream episodes, and extensive funeral scenes.  Through multiple revisions, I eventually chose “not touching—but, our shadows holding hands,” as the healing thread.  I had no memory of its origin or significance.  Months later I re-read a line from John’s obituary that my husband had written on that frantic, surreal day, November 3, 2005:  “John held Jane’s hand through life.”  Unconsciously, I must have held this image in my heart, and serendipity retrieved it as I created this story. 

And another:

            When I struggle with a scene or plot problem, often (as other writers would confirm) the solution pops in my head serendipitously.  This happened to me when my husband and I met with our therapist following John’s death. 

            It dawned on me that our family was like a three-legged dog, that we were completely missing a leg.  But right away I added, “But not happy, like all three-legged dogs seem.”  If you’ve read ALWAYS MY BROTHER, you know the three-legged dog made it into the story.  Several years later, when I witnessed my brother’s dog’s recovery from a serious leg injury (fortunately, the leg was saved) I realized how truly appropriate this three-legged dog analogy is.  Even dogs go through pain, healing, and accommodation to emerge as a happy three-legged animal.  And, they too, (like our family of three) will never live life again four-legged.

Serendipity continued to intervene, even after the writing was completed:

            When John died, a writer friend encouraged me to read Jane Yolen’s on-line journal, because she had recently lost her husband and wrote about the experience. Several months later Jane was a surprise guest at a conference I attended.  I mustered the courage to say how much I appreciated her open-hearted honesty.  A year later, she still remembered me and generously agreed to write a blurb for my book.   

            When I received my delivery of ALWAYS MY BROTHER, I immediately sent one to an influential and well-known mentor in the children’s literature industry because she had recently lost her sole sibling.  Two days later, feeling like a nervous, country bumpkin, I walked into the intimidating, bustling, glitzy scene at the Book Expo America in New York City.  The first person I spot?  Her!  We connected and shared a tender conversation.  My nervousness dissipated.    Thank you, Serendipity.

So what keeps us open to serendipity?  Here’re some things that seemed to create opportunities during my journey.

--Journaling—this is where I initially tapped the idea of “shadows holding hands.”

--Acknowledging the full range of my contradictory emotions. 

--Daydreaming, so my ideas could percolate.

--Tackling the difficult tasks required (writing, revising, researching publishers, enduring rejections, etc.)  Instead of twiddling thumbs, actions seem to create possibilities       for serendipity.

--Connecting authentically with others.

--And, hanging on to my dream, even when I was discouraged. 

These words echoed through my heart, “But Mom, they’re calling you author.”

Thank you, John.

I love and miss you.

--Your Mom.