And the Whippoorwill Sang by Micki Peluso

I could ask nothing greater than to have this book make a difference in the lives of those who read it. What was started as a promise has become a fulfillment far beyond my wildest expectations. Some, having known her long ago, are torn between wanting to read the book and afraid to trust their emotions. Some of them e-mail me with stories and experiences with Noelle that I never knew, and for that I am grateful. Many, after reading the book go to her gravesite and leave flowers. Teachers and librarians from her High School write me with their own remembrances of her, as well as her classmates and friends. I had imagined my audience would be strictly women with children, but that has not been the case.

Young boys, aged fifteen and up, to older men at eighty-two are reading the book and finding something in it for them. I never saw that coming and it continues to astound and humble me. This book has been able to ease some of their own pain, promise them hope, and comfort them in their trials. I have been pleased and amazed by the amount of letters, e-mails, and phone calls I get from readers. I knew the book would both entertain and move many people, but I had no idea to what extent. Now that I am marketing the book, I’ve been blessed with remarkable happenings. I’d brought my daughter back while writing of her funny, wonderful life and in ending the book, I lost her yet again. While I was happy and relieved to finally complete it, that was also painful. How could I have remembered dialogue from several decades ago? Yet I sensed it was accurate. Parts of this true story seemed written by someone other than me. As I reached out to touch it, off it flew, never to be seen again. The bird allowed me to get within six inches in front of it and we just stared at each other. The whippoorwill sat upon the top of the small flagpole in front of my house and looked at me. Upon typing ‘The End,’ the elusive bird disappeared only to return in pure sight the day I had my first book signing. A whippoorwill, not indigenous to where I live now, sat in the bushes near my deck and sang his sad three syllable song as I wrote the hardest part of the book. Many supernatural events happened as I finished the book, just as they did throughout parts of the story. There were times when I laughed and times when I cried-just like my readers. While writing this book was something I had sworn to do as a deathbed promise to the one I lost, it was both blessing and bane.

Micki has received Rave Reviews Book Club’s Spotlight Author honor and will be on tour this week. I am pleased to welcome Micki Peluso to Fiction Favorites.

And the Whippoorwill Sang by Micki Peluso