As a kid, I loved losing myself in books—especially those that made me laugh or carried me to other worlds, teaching me something about people of another time or place. My mother often took my sister and me to the library where I’d find a fun read by Beverly Cleary or a biography about an important character in U.S. or world history.  Other times, I’d check out an art book and my Dad and I would sit at the kitchen table to sketch and discuss the works of greats like Andrew Wyeth, Paul Cézanne, or Diego Velázquez. I loved the power of Story and recognized it not only in the books I read, but also in the art we viewed and discussed.

As I grew older, I continued to be passionate about art, but became increasingly enamored with the stories found in world history. I devoured historical novels like Leon Uris’ Exodus, Mila 18, and Trinity, loving the combination of interesting and relatable characters with a strong story in an historical context. 

Into my twenties and thirties, I read the Bible often and spent a fair amount of money at the local Christian bookstore where I purchased just about everything from Evangelicals like Chuck Swindoll, James Dobson, Charles Stanley, Catherine Marshall and others. During those years, I didn’t know what was going on in the literary world.  I felt conflicted at times, knowing I’d found comfort and important insights in the words and Parables of the founder of Christianity, yet wondering if it really made sense for me to live and see the world in such a segregated, Us vs. Them way.

When I moved to Texas in the mid 1990’s, new friends introduced me to rich biographies and memoirs that deeply moved me. Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, had been well-known for more than twenty years, but I’d never read it. When I finally did, I marveled at the author’s amazing life as well as beautifully crafted lines:

“If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat. It is an unnecessary insult.”

Where had I been? Why had I not read this before? When I finished the book, I just wanted to meet her.  I marveled at how different her experiences had been from mine but how I still felt a profound connection to her story. Her story somehow comforted me even while it made me see a side of life I had not fully understood.  

It was then that I re-connected with the power of Story and began surrounding myself with the books, art and music that I’d been missing all those years; often seeking solace and a connection to others who’d faced adversity and questioned some of the same things I had.

Not long after that, I started writing short stories that were mostly based on things that had happened in my life, along with essays related to my evolving views on social or spiritual issues.  I loved the challenge of finding just the right phrase or re-writing a paragraph until it just sang.  Ever more clearly, I began to see the Art in Story, even as I attended museums, galleries and concerts and reconnected with the Story in Art.

In 2004, recently divorced and trying to adjust to my new reality, I decided to try something new—to push myself to write an historical novel. As for the setting, Spain seemed the natural choice. I’d studied there during college and fallen in love with the country and its people—never quite sure why I hadn’t just stayed there for good. 

I created a host of characters and had no earthly idea what I was doing, but enjoyed the creative process so much, I just kept going. I’d been working on the book for about six months when I had a chance encounter with someone who felt certain I needed to tell my story. At first, I resisted. Who would care? Besides, did I have the courage to share such personal details and perceptions? My story had been wrought with a good deal of shame and hiding and I wasn’t sure how I’d ever begin to tell such a complicated tale. The very thought terrified me.

Eventually though, I realized writing a memoir, Walking in the Deep End, might provide the opportunity to communicate about all types of issues including depression and suicide, eating disorders, same-sex attraction and gay rights. I thought that if there was a chance my story could help others who felt many of the same things I’ve felt – even if their experiences were quite different, well, maybe it was worth it.

While shame often keeps us quiet, the individual and societal costs grow.  According to the World Health Organization, by 2010, depression will be the #1 disability in the world. Suicide kills twice as many Americans as HIV/AIDS.  Eating disorders affect millions of women and girls around the world.  Gay teens are four times as likely to commit suicide as their straight counterparts.

It’s my hope that anyone experiencing such issues and who likes to read will find a friend in Walking in the Deep End and that it will offer insight for those caring people who want to understand a loved one in turmoil over eating disorders, in suicidal depression, sexual orientation issues, and/or who is being discounted and disrespected by religious fundamentalists.

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