The trajectory of my life swung on its axis when I wrote the first draft of I WISH YOU WOULDN’T.
Finishing it brought one of the rare moments when something feels like it’s going to change your life on the level that it eventually does: you know it will, bone deep. I couldn’t have imagined how it would, but I shake hands with my closeted self through the many drafts of this book, and I hope it meets readers where they’re at, too.
I love this book. I loved writing it, even the messy spots in the middle. I loved wading through the muck to find the threads of conflict and carving through stone to uncover the characters in their fullest form. It felt like meeting and re-meeting myself, over and over. The more I got to know Connor, the more I understood who I really was, and what I’d been hiding from.
Shame is a noxious, poisonous driving force. Shedding it can feel like wrestling with every person you’ve ever been, and that’s the fundamental engine of this book. Shame to indignation (why have I been made to feel this way) to a joy-fuelled dismantling: Connor taught me how to heal before I had to do it myself. He lost his family, and then I lost mine, and queerness was the root cause. Neither of us are ashamed anymore, but it was a helluva journey to get there.
Connor takes this trip with his chosen family. This book brought me to mine, in astonishing ways. Readers became friends and family, and now we all get to share in the joy of this book finding its place in the world, no matter how great or small that place ends up being. Though this book is functionally a rom-com, I think its heart is in the friendships.
This book was inspired by so much, but particularly my love of the Canadian landscape. I grew up driving from Vancouver Island to Weyburn Saskatchewan almost every summer with my family to visit relatives, and some of the locations in this book are imprinted in my bones from those long dusty road trip days. One of the times I was driving through, I was rerouted up into Jasper, and that side quest made it into the book. (As I write this, Jasper is on fire. Those interested in donating to the 2024 Alberta Wildfires Appeal may do so here, by calling 1-800-418-1111, or by texting ABFIRES to 45678 to make a $10 donation.)
I’ve been told Connor is essential “bitch narrator” representation. I hope he makes you laugh. If he makes you cry, well. Sorry. (Something, something, pants on fire.) I like writing comedy. I like writing about terrible horrible emotions even more.
There will be a sequel. It will not be as fun. I WISH YOU WOULDN’T asks us: Are you ready to turn your life inside out by being honest? (I HOPE YOU DO) will ask: What are the consequences when you take that step?
I hope you’ll return to find out.
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