A reality check

In March 2008 I received the following email from an Anne:

So, I’m writing today to tell you how your books have impacted me in the last month.  On February 5th my life changed when I was diagnosed with Stage IV melanoma.  I was stunned.  I have three little girls, a wonderful husband and a beautiful life.  I was devastated.  I dropped everything that was extra in my life—including my own writing.  But I did turn to reading—it was just about the only thing I could do, or wanted to do, besides hold my little girls.  I needed something to take me away.  People gave me religious books and books about healing and inspirational stories of overcoming cancer, but nothing sounded good until my copy of A Book of a Thousand Days came in the mail.  I devoured it, and lost myself in a beautiful story, so masterfully told.  After I was finished I found Goose Girl in my little girl’s room (she loves to play Goose Girl—my mom even made her a goose girl costume to wear—she’s 6) and read it all the way through.  I read Princess Academy and cried when I was finished.  I got Austenland out today, maybe just so I could think about Colin Firth for a second.  I can't wait to read it again. Anyway, my point is that there is nothing that has been able to take me away this month, except your books and my little family.
 
I know this must seem like a strange email, but I thought you might want to know that your books have given me an escape—or a release, or whatever you might call it.  I’m grateful for the way you tell stories.  I’m grateful I found your books.  I feel like you’re an old friend and I hope that you’re never discouraged over your writing, because it inspires me in so many ways.

____

I tucked it away somewhere and just happened across it yesterday while working on my computer on the Austenland movie set. I think I replied to her at the time, but I'm ashamed I hadn't thought of her in years. I sent out a query across facebook and twitter and heard back from her cousin that Anne passed away a couple of years ago. I sit here, a stranger, two years too late, crying for Anne and her family. I didn't know Anne, but I wrote books that she liked--that forms some kind of bond, doesn't it? Doesn't that make us kindred spirits? I think another Anne with an "e" would have said so.

The struggle of Jane's story in Austenland is what's real and what's fantasy. Movie making is great fun, but it's fantasy. Family is real. Sending loving thoughts and prayers to Anne's children and husband. Going to go squeeze my babies now.