Today is Begonia Day, and I wanted to share something I originally published on my blog many, many, moons ago about the story behind Begonia Brown.
I was sick when I started to write the book. I lived in Harrisburg with my ex-husband. We were struggling financially, facing eviction, and our marriage was coming to an end, although neither of us realized this at the time.
I smoked cigarettes and drank way too much alcohol. I hid the drinking. I was home sick and so lonely. I turned to food for comfort. I was already 240 pounds, and I gained another 70, bringing my five-foot-two-inch frame to 310 pounds.
I was so hurt. I smiled and joked to hide it, but it was killing me. My diabetes went out of control, and I learned that sneaky little disease came with brutal side effects.
This was the backdrop to this novel. I cried when I sat down to write it. It filled up notebooks while I struggled to keep my little publishing company floating. When you read the book, you will feel my pain because I gave it all to her. Begonia was the outlet. I gave all of my pain to her, every last drop.
I was evicted from my apartment in February 2009. I can't articulate the feeling of failure and self-hate this brought along, so I won't even try. I had to move in with my in-laws and work 16 hours a day, every day, with a cold that morphed into bronchitis that turned into pneumonia, just to get back on my feet. I bought a house in a month, but the damage I did to my body to achieve that little feat still lingers today.
I was back and forth in the hospital, drinking constantly, and writing daily.
I had a story to tell. Begonia Brown became my escape. She was my best friend. She was strong through her trials. I was weak. I needed her.
On June 19th, I came home to Philadelphia with nothing more than the clothes on my back. I was sick and could barely walk. My mother had to feed me and bathe me like I was an infant. My best friend Shaconna took care of me when my mother could not. I hardly had the strength to write. However, when I did, it was pure fire.
It could not have made it to print without the following people, my angels: Junnita Jackson, my friend who made the cover over and over again. Sorry, Junnita. Nora Gruenburg, my editor who is worth her weight in gold, platinum, and titanium. Madonna, aka Sankofa the Poet, who typed the bulk of it. And my son, who woke me up to write when depression held me hostage in my own bed.
In October of 2009, I received my divorce papers in the mail and sent Begonia Brown to the printer.
It is what it is.
Julia
Originally published June 2011. Begonia Brown has since been extended, combined with Violet: A Philadelphia Story and picked up by Urban Books.
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