The idea for the title of this book evolved organically over the process of writing it. My original title was Rojo, but as the book evolved, it became apparent that there was a bigger theme at work. I have always loved the charm of small towns in the South. I still live in a small town in the South. There is something comforting, a sense of community that seems lost in the world, that is present when living in a small town. I love the word jubilee. It evokes a lot of energy. My mother has attended a Messianic congregation for years. She has spoken many times about the Year of Jubilee and its importance in the Jewish calendar—a time when debts are washed away and prisoners are released from their bonds. I just love the connection between the name of the town and this biblical concept, especially in light of the historical setting of the book.

As you have said, the book is a work of fiction, but as is the case with most fiction, the inspiration from real life is always alive on the page. In addition to the prologue, which is based on my first memory as a child, the parallels between fiction and real life are struggles between mother and daughter and siblings and the reality of being poor, or just strangely different, in a small town. For my family, the aftermath of the death of a child cast a long shadow. The struggle a family endures after such a loss is a minefield. My family’s struggles in the aftermath of losing Samuel are definitely present on the pages of The Year of Jubilee.

The original inspiration for the book was the very first memory I have as a child: seeing my brother Samuel through the hospital window as I lifted his pet rooster, Rojo, up to the window, sitting atop the shoulders of my father. I was around three and a half years old.

At its core, it’s a story about the fear that God will not take care of us. It asks the question, why does God allow the worst things imaginable to happen? We often feel like even the idea that God could allow the worst thing to happen must mean he doesn’t care for us. That is a big question that the story tries to walk through.

The entire segregation-versus-integration conversation was at its boiling point in 1963. Grace is trying to make the transition. She is the representation of the next generation and how they will approach the race conversation and have a different view of equality than their parents did. The idea of racial segregation is so barbaric and unthinkable. It is so sad that the South—the buckle of the Bible Belt—was in many respects the very last place to adopt integration. I wanted to walk through that and interview people close to me who could give me a true perspective on that time in history.

Yes, for sure, no surprise there. I think the mother-daughter dynamic is intrinsically set up for drama and struggle. Though my daughters and I have a very good relationship, there were times when I was too controlling, trying to order their lives too much. We made it through and yet, I still have to remind myself to give them space and respect. My mother and I have a good relationship now, as do she and my sisters. But it didn’t come without some work on both parts.