Here’s a little introductory bit from the book, just to give you an idea of where I’m coming from…
I was born two days before the attack on Pearl Harbor, December 5, 1941, in New York city, while my Pop has having a bout of the delirium tremens. They named me Amy (after a crabby old aunt on my mother’s side) Hildreth (a family surname). I was an unexpected child, a second daughter, and that, along with Pop’s condition at the time, may explain why there were so few baby pictures of me in the family album. There were tons of photos of my sister Roberta, whom we called Bertie, who had been born nearly two years earlier, before Pop’s drinking got totally out of control.
When I started the book, I thought it would be better to make it an “autobiographical novel” rather than just a straight memoir. I wanted to include dialog, so that the reader wouldn’t have to confront page after page of straight text.
To do this, I had to try to remember conversations, sometimes from a long time ago, which is, of course, next to impossible! Consequently, I had to put words in the mouths of some of my characters, and I apologize to anyone I may have misquoted (not that they would remember the conversation, either)!