Choosing Your People By Rhett DeVane

By Rhett DeVane

Friendships became vital during the pandemic. Now, as we crawl from our hideouts to physically interact, those connections are just as crucial. Recently, as I thought about the underlying themes in my novel Ditch Weed, two stood out: the importance of both heart-family and intragenerational friendships.

I discovered these common threads not only in Ditch Weed, but in all of my work. You’d think I would’ve noticed this before. Allow me to face-palm. I’m surprised I don’t knock myself out doing this.

As opposed to heart-family—those you select to join your life—blood-family are those related by biology. Some can be delightful and add to your life. Others, well…as my funny and smart mother once responded when I groused about one in particular, “Somebody has to be related to them.”

I grew up in a tight-knit blood-family. I consider myself honored to have started off life this way. It wasn’t until I entered college and moved into the vast world, no longer sheltered, that I realized not everyone had hit the same lottery. These days, with growing divisions in the world around us, families who were once close are unraveling. Thus, the increased importance of heart-family.

I am fortunate to have a healthy heart-family. People I trust, people I can be myself around—the nice me and her evil twin who sometimes manifests. My heart-family may often roll their eyes so hard they see the back of their brains when dealing with me, but they remain steadfast.

One of my long-standing heart-family members is Charles, who was married to my older, only sister Melody, who loved him with abandon. Melody died suddenly at age sixty-one from a brain aneurysm. While I expected Charles to drift from my life, we instead became closer over the following years. We forged a friendship that evolved into a deep sibling bond. It helps that we share a similar view of the world. We rant and laugh in almost equal parts.

Charles is my heart-brother. I am his heart-sister.

We tend to hover in safe little spaces filled with people of similar ages, beliefs, and backgrounds. I admit, I am guilty of this. As a writer—if not also a decent human—would it better serve my development to interact with people different from me? Absolutely. I treasure my intragenerational friendships. 

I’d like to introduce you to the two main characters in Ditch Weed—Mevlyn Jenson and Danae Gray. Here’s a brief synopsis of the novel, published by Twisted Road Publications.

Eighteen-year-old Danae Gray flees Alabama and her abusive father the day she graduates high school with only her backpack, a handful of dollars, and no clear destination. She never expects to wind up in a small North Florida town with a mental institution on its main drag. Her aging motorcycle has other ideas. When she spots a woman who looks like an older version of Mouse, the sister who ran away from home when Danae was eight, Danae decides to stay, taking a mechanic job at the local auto shop.

The moment Mevlyn Jenson sees the young woman in the Wash-Away Laundromat, something about the big-boned, beaten-down gal tugs at her and she moves to uncover the person hiding behind the sadness. But Mevlyn needs help as much as Danae does, and the two quickly form an alliance. In exchange for room, board, and Mevlyn’s freely bestowed advice, Danae helps Mevlyn care for her terminally ill husband.

As Danae unravels the tragic secret surrounding her older sister’s disappearance, and Mevlyn comes to terms with the losses in her own life, Danae and Mevlyn create a new heart-family, filled with love and renewed hope.

Mevlyn and Danae couldn’t be any more different if they tried, a fact that reveals itself throughout the novel. But they manage to find common ground, to form an intragenerational friendship and, ultimately, a heart-family. In Mevlyn’s words: “Sometimes you come into a family and sometimes a family comes to you.”

I am not trying to sound all high and mighty with this talk of my great heart-family and intragenerational friendships. No ma’am. I am not perfect, nor do I aim to be. Again, my mother’s wisdom: “Do your best, always, but don’t try to be perfect. You won’t manage it. Most times, it leads to frustration and unhappiness. And besides, perfect people are terribly annoying.”

One basic fact I have learned through my writing: no novel, short story, or poem starts out in perfect form. All contain errors, repetition, and plot holes. It is the reason for critique groups, beta readers, and editors. Even then, those cockroach-typos slip through the crevices to remind authors how human and flawed we are.

And here’s the truth behind it all. Pay attention. 

We are our imperfect stories. 

They remind us to stretch beyond our generation, to value the people we choose to share our lives. They hold up mirrors. They make us go ah-ha! 

And I am fortunate to serve as an honored conduit, telling those imperfect stories.

—

Rhett DeVane is the award-winning author of published mainstream fiction, short stories, flash fiction, middle grade fantasy, and poetry. Her short fiction pieces have appeared in five anthologies.

For the past forty-plus years, Rhett has made her home in Tallahassee, located in the Florida Panhandle, where she splits her time between writing and thinking about writing. She is currently working on the next novel in line, as well as a series of middle grade and young adult fantasies, because her muses refuse to contain her in a single box.

Buy DITCH WEED HERE

Author website: www.rhettdevane.com

Author Facebook page: www.facebook.com/southernmadhatter

 

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