Heather Weber
Dear Boy wasn't so much dreamed up as it was given birth--in very much a baby cannot be stopped on that day of delivery. The death of my brother (the "Boy" of my story) was the catalyst for what turned into 10 months of writing that couldn't be helped. I was writing at all hours of the night. Writing through tears. Writing when I should have been paying bills and answering emails and working. During that process, I didn't know that what I was writing would turn out to be a manuscript with an aesthetic that resonated with me. That it ended this way was a redemptive gift in the grieving process.
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