File under: Blinding Silver Linings

That's my brother Daniel, he's a writer. Like most of us, he wasn't always a writer, or he wasn't, and then was, and then wasn't. Sound familiar? Daniel was a computer programmer for many years, the only other person in my family to go to college. When I was in grad school, working on the thesis that would become my novel, Daniel said, I'm going to write a novel, too. I was in an MFA program, surrounded by folks "writing novels" and I admit, I didn't take him too seriously. A few months later, Daniel surprised me by sending me a fat manuscript.

Almost three years ago, when I was the Champion Queen Fundraising Bee of the Night of Writing Dangerously, Daniel was my first donor, setting the bar for my other three brothers (which they met, go bros!), and then surprising me by flying from Georgia to San Francisco for the NOWD. He bought his plane ticket when I first started my fundraising endeavors, without telling me, that confident that I'd win.

File what happens next under Long Stories Short… About a month after the 2008 NOWD, Daniel was hospitalized, went into a coma, and many weeks later finally returned to us but having suffered an "anoxic insult," which is an incredibly insufficient Latin phrase for: brain injury. He lost approximately 20 years of his memory (it took weeks for him to understand I was his grown sister and not the nicest lady at the hospital) and many of his basic skills (it took this ex-computer programmer three months to re-learn to dial a phone).

I'm sharing horrors, I know, to be filed under Things That Are Not Supposed to Happen Ever… but I wouldn't have us crack that file open if there weren't riches in it. Inside the Things That Are Not Supposed to Happen Ever folder, and you know this if you've had to open it yourself, are the folders: Who Your Friends Are and What You're Made of. Nearly three years down the caregiving road, I've learned you can't even touch those last two folders without opening the first one. You aren't even sure they exist before that. Them's the rules.

Nearly three years down the recovery road, Daniel's skills continue to increase thanks in huge part to a fantastic program he attends for those with acquired disabilities. He works around the short-term memory problems that might never leave him and has developed a great deal of faith to work around the long-term memory that might never return to him. He takes the bus, he volunteers, and many of his volunteer hours have been spent at OLL, a place he adores.

One of the perks of working at OLL is the merch, which we get to test-run, and so I gathered some posters for Daniel to try out for me, the four in the picture and the Script Frenzy "Page Frenzy" Poster. I wasn't sure if he'd hang them up or not but he took them home. When I talked to Daniel a few days later, he surprised me by saying: I'm writing a novel. I asked him what had inspired him and he said: That poster you gave me. Stop Watching. Start Writing. Then he read me the first page of his new manuscript.

Now, in-between our talks of doctor visits and med lists, Daniel and I talk about plot and backstory. In-between talks about memory exercises and insurance forms, we talk about foreshadowing and character development; in-between our talks about what is a true memory and what is one fabricated to fill in a blank, we weigh the mysteries of fiction versus nonfiction. He doesn't remember writing his first novel (you should have seen his face when I presented it to him) but my brother, the writer, is back. Talk about a perk.

Stop Watching. Start Writing. If those four words can be that powerful, think of what mountains will be moved with the 50,000 words you'll write this November. This has been my brother's story. Surprise yourself with yours. We believe in you.

– Tupelo