Each Person has a Story

 Today, I'm indulging my craving for a bout of schizophrenia. Theses urges come upon me in the middle of the night when a character wanders out of my imagination and demands to be heard. The effects linger into the daylight hours where women like Esther and Jane parade through the pages of my mind and cry that it's been too long since Never Again hit the book stores.

Lately, Jane and Esther have been hinting that they have friends who are hiding in the corners of my mind. There's Violet Stevenson who is addicted to the writings of Charles Dickens. Right now she's in the midst of reading Martin Chuzzlewit. Violet's obession with this novel is spilling over into her relationship with Ariella, her grand-daughter. This young woman is the recipient of advice from the characters in Dickens' novel which Violet suggests will improve Ariella's life. Just imagine if Ariella listened to the ever cheerful, Mark Tapley and learned to be jolly in the midst of her trails, she might be able to endure the pau de deux that she's dancing with the overly handy, Edward without resorting to crushing his foot with her pointe shoe.

Along with Violet there's an older man who is unkownn to Violet, but who has found his way into the unwritten pages of my next book. Vashi doesn't talk much, but when he does, it's profound. He has this way of looking at you that induces serious intorspection which influences your life and your perceptions. Did I mention that Vashi is addicted to chocolate cheesecake, although on occassion he has been known to accept plain cheesecake drizzled with raspberry sauce?

I love characters. I love real people. It's a special fascination of mine to watch the masses of humanity wherever I go. I find airports particularly satisfying. Instead of reading while I wait for my flight, I observe mankind. Each person has a story. I watch how the mother entertains her child, how the businessman's phone is perpetually glued to his ear, how the couple on vacation lounges in shorts and sunglasses giving each other radiant smiles. It goes on and on as I indulge in the never ending panorama of life.

My schizophrenia is flaring up again and demanding attention. It's time for me to write. Never Again your sibling is about to be born.

In the beginning

In the beginning, I didn't intend to write a serious novel like Never Again I wrote Regency Romances where you could escape and forget the roll of dental floss the children had wrapped around the doorknob, the dirty dishes that darkened the counter and the jam fingerprints that decorated the slider (New England term for sliding glass door).

In 2004, that all changed. I was reading a priesthood conference talk by President Hinckley when I was touched by the plight of a woman who had suffered becasue of her husband's addiction to pornography. I was impressed that I should write about a similar situation except in this case the woman should divorce her husband and find healing. Since I was resistant, I avoided writing, but somehow at odd times in the day or through the night, pieces of Megan's story would flitter around in my mind.

When I finally started writing Never Again, I had many wonderful/awful experiences. Thinking I was attending a marriage seminar, I set up my lap top in the center of a large room. The instructor stood up and announced that the schedule had been altered. She would be lecturing on pornography.

I was not thrilled about the subject of porn addiction, but I felt embarrrassed to stand up and walk out. Fifteen minutes later my husband asked if I wanted to leave. By then I was copiously taking notes, everything the woman was saying helped me to understand Megan's character. There was no question of leaving. After that, reasearch was easier.

I came to love Megan, to wish that her world hadn't been shattered. See, my schizophrenia is kicking in. Maybe it was a good thing that Megan became so vivid to me because I began to see her in my real everyday life, a sister of someone I knew, a member of my ward, an old friend and on and on.

My desire to finish this book grew. These women's stories needed to be told in a positive way that offered hope and healing. Megan's promise to Never Again risk her heart must be broken in order to do this.

I knew that some portions of this book would be heavy and dark so I added Jane and Esther for comic relief. I placed Amber in a position to soften and smoothe the way. It is my hope that as you read Never Again you will laugh, cry and be uplifted, but most of all that you will understand yourself or a dear sister who has suffered.

Katherine Adams