The Origin of My Story

I hadn’t originally set out to write a Regency suspense novel with gothic elements, but sometimes our lives take strange turns, and we must be willing to release control of the wheel and go along for the ride. 

For three years, I’d been working on a different novel, one set in early nineteenth-century Massachusetts. I loved the maritime setting and the characters whose lives were bound to the sea, but eventually found myself staring at pages that no longer captured my imagination. I knew something wasn't working, even if I couldn't yet explain what it was. Rather than forcing the story forward, I set it aside and gave myself permission to begin again. 

The Georgian and Regency periods have always fascinated me. They sit at such a remarkable crossroads in history—the sunset of the Age of Enlightenment and the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. I knew it was an era I wanted to inhabit creatively, at least for a while. Being an Anglophile, I decided to explore a story set in early 19th-century England. Instantly, the plot began to develop. A woman, dissatisfied with her life. A sibling to blame. A journey of forgiveness and self-discovery. The way two lives can diverge. The first lines came immediately as if whispered to me: “Because my sister was an adventuress, I became a spinster.” 

At first, I imagined my heroine as a woman in her twenties. After all, aren't those the characters who usually set off on adventures? But the more I thought about it, the less authentic it felt. I wasn't some young twenty-something anymore. I'd accumulated years of experience, accomplishments, and disappointment. I’d lived a lot of life, and I wanted my main character to be someone I identified with.

 Then, just one month after I began outlining The Oleander Message, everything changed. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. If you've walked that road yourself, you know how suddenly life narrows, forcing you to focus on what truly matters. Appointments replace ordinary routines. Time is measured between treatments. The future becomes both precious and uncertain. Writing became my lifeline. 

Whenever I felt clear-headed enough to think through the chemo fog and nausea, I wrote. It gave me somewhere else to live for a little while, a place where my thoughts weren't consumed by surgeries, test results, and doctors' visits. As my own world became increasingly uncertain, I found myself creating a heroine who was anything but passive. Augusta James is strong without being invincible. She makes mistakes. She carries old wounds. She meets hardship with determination, and when she can, with humor. That quiet resilience wasn't just something I wanted for her, it was something I needed for myself. I like to say that Augusta got me through my treatment. She walked beside me through some very difficult months, and on the days I couldn't imagine the finish line, she was there urging me forward. 

Now, as I enter the final revision stage before the countdown to publication begins, I've found myself looking back to where this story started, to remember the small spark of inspiration that grew into a novel, and to make sure Augusta's journey remains true to its origins. Because in many ways, this book isn't simply about Augusta's journey; it's about the unexpected paths life asks us to travel, the stories that sustain us when we need them most, and the remarkable ways hope can find us when we least expect it.