The Birth of an Idea

Readers always wonder where writers get their ideas. The answer is simple, I think. Ideas come from events writers are involved in, hear about, read about, or are witnesses to. In the case of Summer and Lilacs most of the above are true. In the late '70s, I was teaching overseas and was also working as a counselor when I met a brilliant, beautiful, blonde student—I'll call her Audrey—arrived in my classroom, and later I became her counselor.

Her father was an officer on the military base where I taught. He was known to be a strict disciplinarian with his men and somewhat of a drinker. When Audrey came to class sometimes with bruises on her arms, even her face occasionally, all of us teachers thought perhaps she was being abused. Audrey always explained the bruises away, and, truth be told, they didn't seem serious enough for any of us to file a report with the base commander. As her counselor, I questioned Audrey about her home life many times, but she always maintained everything was perfectly fine.

Then a scandal rocked our base and school. An officer's wife reported that seventeen-year-old Audrey was having an affair with her husband. Rumors grew rampant, but none of us knew the exact details of the affair. Audrey left my class in tears, saying she and her mother were returning to the States; her father would remain on base until his tour of duty was up. The officer in question and his family were transferred; the officer wasn't charged with anything. The incident was swept under the rug.

But the image of brilliant, beautiful, blonde Audrey has always haunted me throughout the years—nagged me, honestly. Why hadn't I reported Audrey's possible abuse to anyone? What prompted her to have an affair with an officer—such a young child? What eventually happened to her? I finally reached the point where I felt I had to tell at least a fictional account of Audrey's life to rid myself of her image in my mind. The result is Summer and Lilacs.