Celebrate Nonfiction

Exploring the Joy of Nonfiction Reading and Writing

Nonfiction Authors Dig Deep by Deborah Heiligman

Tom
Wolfe, the journalist who
died earlier this year,
said that every writer has a word or a phrase that is that writer’s theme.
Wolfe’s was, not surprisingly, “status.”

About
ten years ago, my husband heard him say this at a talk, and asked me, do you
know your theme? I didn’t have to think about it; I answered immediately: “Only
connect.” It’s the epigraph to the E.M. Forster novel, Howard’s End.

For
me, life is all about connecting to other people. When I look back at my
books—my “books from the heart” and books on assignment, or projects too good
to turn down–I realize that I always write about connection.

Sometimes
I write about connections between people and animals (most notably so far in
three fiction picture books I’ve written about my Golden Retriever, Tinka) or
people and plants (a middle grade biography about Barbara McClintock published
almost 20 years ago, and a current picture book project about her). The Boy Who Loved Math: The Improbable Life
of Paul
Erdős,
is about the connection of a boy with numbers. His connection with numbers led
him to connect with people.

 

But
usually I write about connections between people. In my last two YA nonfiction
books, that connection is right in the title: Charles and Emma: The Darwins’ Leap of Faith and Vincent and Theo: The van Gogh Brothers.
It was the process of researching and writing the books that gave me a deep
understanding of the connection between those pairs.

Why
is “only connect” my theme? I’m a people person through and through. I got that
from my mother, through both nature and nurture. Her favorite activity was
people-watching.

From
the time I was very young, I’d sit next to her—in a restaurant, a hotel lobby,
on a beach—and people-watch. She’d point out someone to me, discreetly, and
we’d try to figure out that person’s story. We’d suggest names and
nationalities to each other, wonder about everything about him or her. My
mother had a curiosity about everyone, a curiosity born from love for
people—and story.

My
mother had a lot of friends, and she made friends with strangers, getting to
know them and their stories.  I
watched—and learned.

I
didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of my life as a writer.

My
mother died when I was just 34. A few days later, a neighbor I didn’t know ran
across the street to tell me about my mother, how much she would miss her. She
said, smiling, tears running down her face, I always felt seen by her. Yes. That was my mother.   

As
fate would have it, I had to write a book, on deadline, right after my mother
died. That book, From Caterpillar to
Butterfly, was reminiscent of the very first book I checked out of my
elementary school library, What is a
Butterfly.

I
had a vivid memory of my mother reading that book to me, on my childhood bed.
And so I researched and wrote, grieving. I told the story of a classroom of
children watching a caterpillar turn into a butterfly, based on my son’s
preschool class. But I was really writing about my mother, her life, and her
death. That book is about my connection to her, and my letting her go. I’m sure
nobody realizes it, but it is.       

My
father died five years after my mom. Cleaning out the house, I found multiple
copies of Writers Digest, with notes
in my mother’s handwriting. What? I asked her best friend, and she told me, Oh
yes, your mother always wanted to be a writer. My mother never told me that,
not even after I had published my first book. I guess she wanted me to have my
own dream, not hers.

But
she’s the one who gave it to me, I now realize. Her death, just as I was coming
into my own as an adult, affected me greatly. I don’t think I’ll ever get over
it. I think that’s another reason I love writing about connections. My primary
connection was terminated before I was ready, and I think I try to make up for
that every day, with how I love, and what I write. 

Deborah
Heiligman

is the author of 31 books, most of them nonfiction. Her most recent, VINCENT
AND THEO: THE VAN GOGH BROTHERS, won the YALSA Excellence in Nonfiction Award,
the Boston Globe-Horn Book Award for nonfiction, the SCBWI Golden Kite Award
for nonfiction, and a Printz Honor. Please visit
www.DeborahHeiligman.com for more information.

 

19 Responses

  1. Thank you for sharing this with all of us. It makes me realize that, beyond the fine research, thinking, and writing that is evident in all your books, there also is plenty of heart. No wonder your stories are so powerful.

  2. Thank you for sharing in such a deep way about the source of your writing process and success. It sounds like your mother gave many people the gift of being seen. How wonderful and important! You've given me a lot to think about when I write. Thank you!

  3. This is truly a connection from you and your mother to us – we connect to you and your stories and now we know more about your dear mother who made you a people person,too. TY for sharing. Hugs.

  4. Oh, thank you. I think what Melissa is doing here is so wonderful, letting us show you the process behind our books. I really appreciated the opportunity, and in fact writing this helped me with my current book!

  5. Wonderful story, Deborah. I, too, feel the influence of my late mother every day, and definitely in my books. Thanks for your story.

  6. Thank-you so much for sharing. Every time you writer or speak about her, you strengthen my connection to not only her, but to you.

  7. Thank you for sharing your story Deborah. It is so helpful and inspiring to have a glimpse into other writer’s processes. Heart is one of those elusive things to describe but you have demonstrated it in your stories. Charles and Emma is one of my favorite books and I look forward to reading Vincent and Theo soon.

  8. Great Tribute a beautiful connection with your books. Thanks for your amazing books. My students and I love From Caterpillar to Butterfly.

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