My protagonist, Hope, is 18 years old at the start of my novel The Whisperer of Storms. I chose that age since it was the eligible age for a young lady to marry in the early 1800s. I didn't want her to be on the shelf, but getting her married off was a cause for concern for her guardian in that day and age. What a perfect way to develop conflict in the plot!
Interesting enough, age 18 was a period of ups and downs in my own life. My grandmother's hardy health took a rapid decline. My own health took a turn downhill as well a few months later and I was faced with my own mortality. It was through the trials and tribulation that I finally found what I was looking for.
I was lucky as I caught the monster (as I like to call it) early, but I remember the time of uncertainty. The day I was diagnosed, I went to school, which was right before Valentine's Day. Our school had the tradition of giving flowers to our friends. Some people walked around with a bouquet of flowers pinned to their shirts, while others didn't have any. That day, I thought it was all very stupid! I'm happy that people thought of me, but it seemed so insignificant to the whole aspect of life. (To this day, I still don't care for Valentine's Day.) Even my crush couldn't make me feel better, who thanked me for the flower I got him, which I ordered earlier that week. He hadn't a clue what I was going through because I never told him. I tried to talk to him at the end of that night, after a school event, but he said he had to go and that he'd see me on Monday. Only I knew I wasn't going to school that Monday due to doctor appointments. I responded that I'd see him later. I drove home that night feeling very alone. The thought kept going through my mind that if he was truly my "friend" he would have sensed that something was wrong. I've often wondered what he thought when I wasn't in school on Monday. I missed most of that school week, but I learned that I was going to survive. I only needed surgery. No radiation or chemo. I didn't have to worry about losing my hair. But I was never the same. I often think of Frodo's narrative at the end of LOTR,
“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back?"
There was no going back. My crush started dating a girl within three weeks after my health scare. I wasn't even recovered enough from my surgery to participate in Physical Ed and in addition, I had a broken heart on top of it! I realized life was too short to be pining over someone who didn't want me, so I decided that we weren't going to be friends anymore. He never confronted me about it, because I simply quit talking to him, but I would sometimes catch him watching me with a questioning look. I should have handled it better, but I was young. I was forced to grow up faster than my peers, but I still wanted to hang on to a little immaturity. Looking back on it now, I know that I handled it poorly. I regret the way that I treated him. After all, I never told him how I felt, but I always figured that he must have known. I had the worst luck with love, but little did I know that my luck was about to change in the upcoming months . . .
I met my husband that fall during my first year of college. Have you ever felt that spark the first time you made eye contact? You feel like he's a new person, yet he's somehow familiar to you? Is that what it's like when you finally meet your soul mate? That's what it was like for me. That's how I met the one I was meant for. We've been together ever since, married with children. We've had our trials and tribulations, but that's what a life together is all about.
Unlike my 18 year-old self, Hope is too busy assisting others to think of her own heart's desire. She's never had time for a relationship other than friendship. I think many readers will find her quite interesting. Some might think 18 is a little young, but I've learned from experience that maturity isn't always measured in years.
Enjoy your summer. I will be revising my manuscript since I completed the first draft.
Veronica
Stormy Persuasion by Johanna Lindsey
