2 People Who Inspire Me

Book Update: I met recently with my new publisher, Blydyn Square Books, to kick off the production phase for my next novel, Unraveling Caro Dunn, which is due to be published in January 2027. Things start happening pretty quickly now (or “quickly” by publishing standards, anyway!). The book’s interior will be created and formatted, the cover designed, everything gets proofed multiple times, and then we send out Advance Review Copies (ARCs) to early reviewers. Watch this space for updates, including the always exciting cover reveal!

Now on to this month’s topic: Do you know someone who lives with a life-changing mental or physical health condition? Chances are, you do, or maybe you yourself are in that situation. I’d like to share stories about/by two people who inspire me in ways that relate to disabilities.

Poet Susan Roney-O’Brien

Susan F. Roney-O’Brien is an award-winning poet who I am fortunate to call a friend and a mentor. Every time I read one of her poems, I am inspired to keep striving to inject more feeling and meaning and beauty into the words I choose for my novels. I met Susan when I joined a writers’ group she ran at my local library in Boylston, Mass., many years ago. She helped launch my fiction-writing career by connecting me with another author and her publisher, who released my first adult novel, Horseshoes and Hand Grenades.

Susan recently penned an incredible poem for a contest sponsored by the Monadnock Writers Group (of which I’m a member) and the Crotched Mountain Foundation, which helps “children, students, and adults with disabilities to live, learn, and thrive in the community.” The poem, which needed to address CMF’s mission in some way, will be etched into a monument at a facility in southern New Hampshire next year. I re-print that poem here, with Susan’s permission. You don’t have to understand living with a disability to appreciate her beautiful words but, if you do, it will be all the more meaningful.

Crotched Mountain Air

by Susan F. Roney-O’Brien

When I couldn’t hear the hermit thrush, you danced its song– arabesques, 

plies, glissades– and the breeze brought scents of brocade and star mosses 

from the forest floor to dance upon.

When I couldn’t see, we linked arms, walked. We stroked ridged bark–

root to first branch– plucked and crushed a leaf, inhaled green, listened. 

Wind strummed twigs like strings.

When memory abandoned me, your words seeded the spring meadow

with clover and we waltzed to remembered harmonies embedded 

in the marrow of our bones.

When I couldn’t stand without braces, you took my hand and led me 

to the garden where the clematis vine, purple with velvet suns, 

embraced the lattice, climbed, shining.

When I think of you, grateful for your care, the forest pathway opens 

to the mountain and I am the earth in April, coming into my own–

blossoming, blossoming.

Artist Natalie Simone

The second person who never ceases to inspire me is my child Natalie Simone, who is a queer, disabled visual artist. They recently did this interview with the WROTE podcast, and their insights about art and their self-awareness astound me. I am incredibly proud of Nat’s accomplishments as an artist, and even more so of their continued ability to surmount health obstacles including depression and fibromyalgia. Click below to watch the interview, and if you’re interested, view more of Nat’s work here:

Btw, the illustration in the image at the top of this post is an early self-portrait by Nat. They’ll probably yell at me for posting something so old and relatively simple, but I’ve always loved that drawing.

The photo on the right side is of Susan, as you no doubt guessed! 🙂