SOME SPOILER-FREE BACKSTORY
Hello! Maybe you’ve heard…I have a book coming out in seven days!
Honestly, it’s wild. After two years of working on it, to be a week from y’all being able to read it? I’m not even sure I have words for this feeling. So, I’ll borrow a phrase from my roommate: “What a weird time to be alive!”
As we approach book launch day, I thought you might enjoy hearing a tiny bit of background about the book. Now, don’t worry—I would never spoil the plot for you. I know some of you are trying to go in completely blind, and I fully respect that, even if blind dates are risky affairs in general.
This post is completely spoiler-free.
But I thought you might like to hear the backstory behind the title. Yes? Great. I figured as much.
A TRIP TO MY CHILDHOOD
It will probably not surprise you much to learn that I had a lot of friends when I was little. However, it’s only fair to tell you that a good number of those friends existed exclusively in my mind. Yes, I had a plethora (cue The Three Amigos quotes) of imaginary friends.
I had Julia, a young black girl who I remember whistled and sang a lot. I also had the Franklins, four extremely mischievous white and freckled brothers who were always creating messes and refusing to clean them up. And I had a dog named Buster, who was half Beagle, half Dalmatian, and half German Shepherd (I’ve never been great at math.) I remember most of these friends well, and my family does, too.
But a few years ago, when I was eating dinner with my family, they started to discuss my many imaginary friends, and my sister brought up one in particular.
WHY VIOLINDY
“Remember Violindy?” She said as she passed me the mashed potatoes.
“Umm…no?” I said, heaping them on my plate.
She described Violindy, telling a story I can’t even remember now because it had no meaning for me. But then she ended it with a phrase that I do remember: “You should write a book about Violindy.”
And while I ate my mashed potatoes and listened to my family chatter about soccer and home renovations, I started to think.
What kind of person would call themselves Violindy? How would that name or nickname come to be? And could I actually write a book about it?
I’m a little shocked to report that the fictional scene that formed in my mind that night was remarkably close to what you’ll find in Chapter 29. I can’t wait for you to read it, and I want to know if you think I did the name Violindy justice. Please report back and let me know!
YOUR TURN!
But in the meantime, I’m dying to know: did you have imaginary friends? Please tell me all about them.
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