It’s a strange thing going through a person’s belongings after they’re gone. It feels like a violation, but also, you can’t ask them any questions.
A few weeks after we lost Dad, my mom handed me two sheets of white paper covered with a sharp script I recognized immediately.
“Where’d these come from?” I asked.
“Dad’s desk, at work.”
They were poems. Elegant, agonizing words about a woman, and the wind, and the sting of the cold. It felt like holding an expired lottery ticket. The world will never know.
I used to beg my father to write something … anything! He was a charismatic storyteller and a gifted wordsmith. His last Christmas with us, I gave him three books: Stephen King’s “On Writing,” Steven Pressfield’s “The War of Art” and “My Grandfather’s Blessings” by Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen. I was sure these artists would inspire him.
But he was just too tired. He’d waited too long.
I came across the small stack of titles on his dresser shortly after he passed and brought them home. I set them on my desk, opened a blank document and started a story.
And I wrote a book!
“He Answers to Grief“ is a sweet little fictional tale about a young woman, Daphne, reeling in the aftershocks of her father’s death. She is angry, and heartbroken, and questioning everything. It’s about the process of losing, the ugliness of such unimaginable pain, but also the awakening it can bring. The story is based loosely on my lived experience (and my dog) but not autobiographical.
It’s what poured out of me during the raw, initial days without Dad, and so, for him, I wanted to honor the work by taking it all the way to the finish line. By publishing for the first time. Because he can’t, and he never did, and writing was something we treasured together.
About the book
I’ve learned a lot in the process.
No. 1
At roughly 42k words, “He Answers to Grief“ is a novella, not a full novel, which have a minimum threshold of 50k words. Publishers don’t much care for novellas from unknown authors, so I am bringing this abbreviated piece to you as a minnow in the vast sea of self-publishing. (Good luck, little fella!)
It’s fitting, in a way–the cold reception. It reminded me of society’s impatience with mourning. No one tells you to stop grieving, but they don’t cater to it, either. While I was drowning in the hurry up and get back to it, the minutes I carved out for this slight story that isn’t quite a novel allowed me to start sorting through some of my sadness.
No. 2
People are incredible. The family, friends and acquaintances who served as beta readers, cover designers and cheerleaders made me bigger than my fear. And believe me, there’s a lot of fear!
(Katie, I’ll never forget you saying, “No notes,” through tears on the drive back from Maryland. You didn’t know it, but you gave me courage that day.)
No. 3
Writing is therapy. When I was hung up on word choices and overanalyzing sentence structure (I could have tweaked it forever), I let my feelings lead.
This is not the next Great American Novel. Reese and Oprah won’t be calling. But it is a tribute, in many ways, to my own grief and my journey, filled with thoughts and heartache I will never forget. And I don’t want to. Because this pain serves as my receipt for the love I shared with my father. My hope is that the pages find who they need to find and bring some peace to those who feel alone.
About the cover
“He Answers to Grief“ was the first piece I’d ever shared with JoJo, my oldest, and she was the first to read the rough draft. She sketched the initial version of the cover, choosing this rich green as a background. My dear friend, Nissa, polished it up (and tolerated all of my infuriating texts about file sizes), and, in a humbling act of generosity, in the eleventh hour, my long-time pal Ryan called in a favor for the custom typography. Parker McCullough, whom I’ve never met, made the font, and it’s perfect. It came together so beautifully, and I love it almost as much as the humans behind it.
About the storyline
The chapters are short, and the thoughts can seem chaotic at times. This was intentional, designed to mimic the frenzied, disorganized anxieties that follow a significant loss. When it doesn’t feel like things make sense anymore.
Similarly, as the book goes on, the life events are more and more spread out. In the hours, days and first few months after someone close to you dies, everyone’s concerned. They worry. They check in. But then their lives go on as they should. Their considerations and interest in that particularly tragic detail of your life dwindles, and so do the occasions when the reader hears from Daphne.
You can find the ebook and printed versions here. This link will automatically update as new offerings become available. Please don’t feel like you have to purchase it, but know it’s floating around out there if you want it.
Seeing my name on a book cover has been a lifelong dream of mine, but I will tell you this is not the one I anticipated writing. In fact, I have a whole other draft of a hiking story that is nothing like this novel(la). And maybe that will find its way somewhere one day, too. But this consumed me, just as my dad’s death did.
I get a massage every month from the most incredible woman, Annie. The first time I went to her after losing Dad, I started weeping the second she put her hands on me. I cried for 60 minutes. Writing this book felt like that.
When I started this blog a decade ago, I chose the word desperately based on my aspirations of being more–more organized, more inspired, more connected, more present. Now I know the true definition of desperate is longing for someone you can’t reach.
I wish my dad could be here to see this.
I’m typing this before dawn, just a day after one of my oldest girlfriends walked her father to the end of his time on earth. I hurt for her, knowing where she is and what’s to come. And I hurt for everyone left with a hole where someone used to be. I don’t think we ever heal, but we can have a good cry together.
See all the ways you can get a copy of “He Answers to Grief.”
Thank you.
