ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a novel is an inherently solitary and often crazy-making pursuit. But there are people who see you through it, who inspire and inform and soothe and prod and tolerate and love you, and generous organizations that house and feed you when you’re in the throes of creation. I’m especially indebted to the following:

First, my ingenious and opinionated uncle John, who planted the seed for When She Woke sometime in the early nineties over a meal and a bottle of wine in Hulls Cove, Maine. We were discussing the drug problem in America, and he said, “I think all drugs should be legal and provided by the government. They just ought to turn you bright blue.” The conversation stuck in my mind and eventually bore this dark, strange, red fruit.

James Cañón and Chris Parris-Lamb, my gay and straight angels, without whose encouragement, thoughtful criticism and unwavering faith at every stage of this process When She Woke would not exist.

Kathryn Windley, who read When She Woke when it was green, and Jennifer Cody Epstein, who read multiple drafts, for giving me invaluable suggestions about its characters and narrative.

Kathy Pories, who followed me willingly into my very un-Mudbound-like dystopia and helped me make it believable and good. And the whole amazing Algonquin/Workman team, which I’ve had to stop talking about to my author friends because they end up feeling jealous and unloved.

Gay and John Stanek, Fundación Valparaiso, Blue Mountain Center, Château de Lavigny, the Corporation of Yaddo, the Djerassi Resident Artists Program, Hawthornden Castle and the MacDowell Colony, for the gift of unfettered time to write in beautiful surroundings. The Barbara Deming Memorial Fund, for the timely grant. And Charlotte Dixon, Carol Chinn, Alice Yurke and Rob, John and Katya Davis, for giving me a place to lay my head when I had none.

Sharon Morris, for allowing me to borrow the lines on p. 199 from her poem “Not Just an Image,” which can be found in her marvelous collection False Spring.

Dr. Marc Heller, for educating me about abortion and for having the courage to help women in need and to fight for our reproductive freedom, often at risk to his own life. Dr. Eugene Zappi, Dr. Lisa Susswein, Dr. Theresa Raphael-Grimm, Dr. Dan Burnes and Kirk Payne, for helping me create a plausible scientific underpinning for melachroming and fragmentation. Magda Bogin and Barbara Kingsolver, for early enthusiasm. Denise Benou Stires, for lending me her media savvy and her shoulder whenever I needed them. Elizabeth Fout, for her eagle eye. Lisa Dillman, for being naughty with me, and Nora Maynard, for co-founding the TTWWC. Ron Cunningham, for helping me get my heroine across the Canadian border illegally. Michèle Albaret-Maatsch et Julie Talbot, pour m’avoir enseigné à jurer comme un marin en québécois, et Gérard Hernando, pour m’avoir aidé à rendre le dialogue de Simone authentique. Michael Epstein, for the killer photo. And Nathaniel Hawthorne, for giving me such broad shoulders to stand on.

Finally, I wish to thank all my fellow artists, friends and family not mentioned above, whose love and support have sustained me on this long red road of mine.