Too close to the action

        My husband and I recently spent 14 months living in Kayenta, Arizona, and working in addiction recovery programs. We loved the work, the people, the beautiful views of Monument Valley...in fact, just about everything! But our time there ended and we left to come back to our permanent home.
          Our first day back in northern California was November 1. The Camp Fire started one week later. Although it did not reach our home, it burned within five miles of us. We were on alert for possible evacuation and the park only one-third mile from our home was closed in the event evacuation became necessary. We saw the black smoke clouds, thousands of feet high, rolling down at us from the ridge and for days we lived in skies so dark, the streetlights stayed on day and night and everyone who had to be out driving used headlights.

For most of three weeks, we did not go out unless we had to. When we did, we wore hazard masks. Worse, we heard the stories and saw the videos from friends, people we knew well, who lost everything: homes, possessions, businesses, pets. Some people we did not know lost family members. At least eighty-five people were killed in the fire, the most destructive and deadly in California history.

Then came the floods. Although this area hadn’t seen measurable precipitation in nearly two-hundred twenty days, the skies opened in a series of “atmospheric rivers” that poured rain and snow across the region for months. In the fire zone, what was left by the flames washed away in a series of floods and debris flows. A friend was among the archaeologists who went into the debris zone to rescue the ashes of the dead before the floods could wash them away.

In the months since then, my husband and I have visited the burned-out areas, viewing only a few of the two-hundred eleven square miles consumed by the flames. We have participated in relief efforts and have tried to extend our help and sympathy to all those affected. Yet we feel helpless in the face of such overwhelming, destructive natural power.

My newest book is SUNNY'S SUMMER, due out in May. It deals with the aftermath of the Camp Fire. I told my husband, "I have to write this. I have to." He warned me not to. “It’s too soon,” he said. “The experience is too raw for too many people.”
Then I wrote a short sketch of the story line and showed it to a friend affected by the fire. She did not lose her home, but the flames burned up to her back porch, she was evacuated for nearly a month without knowing whether her horses were alive, and when she returned, her whole home had to be professionally cleaned due to smoke damage. What couldn’t be cleaned was an uninsured loss. (As a side note, a neighbor who did not have to evacuate cared for her horses. They are well.)

My friend, who had experienced the fires, said, “Write it! You must! People have to see that others are experiencing the same things: the horror, the loss, the guilt…oh, the guilt! Yes, write it. Maybe it can help with some healing.”

I usually try to make my work timeless so it can fit into anyone's experience. In the new book, tied to exact times and places, I tell the story of fictional people who are experiencing the aftermath of the Camp Fire. I hope their experience can help others to heal. Writing it has been cathartic for me.

Susan Aylworth is the author of 17 novels currently available as e-books. SUNNY'S SUMMER, due out in May, is her 18th. She lives in northern California with Roger, her husband of 49 years. She loves hearing from readers. Find her at www.susanaylworth.com, @SusanAylworth, on Pinterest and Instagram, and at www.facebook.com/Susan.Aylworth.Author.