So I was…ah…wearing that other hat of mine today and when lunch rolled around, I checked in on twitter and I saw some sad, sad news.
Monica Jackson had passed away. I’ve only met Monica online, but everything I knew about her, I respected. She was a nurse, like me…it’s odd how many of us end up writing romance. She was outspoken, she was passionate and it didn’t matter if you hated what she had to say…she wanted to say it and she’d say it without being ugly.
She might not always had kind words for you… she was a black woman who wrote AA romance and very often, the writers of AA romances don’t get treated very fairly. But she spoke her piece fairly, she was passionate about it and she wasn’t afraid of the backlash.
I know Monica hadn’t been doing well the past few years…you didn’t see her online as much and the online community has changed. We’re on twitter almost as, or more than, we are on blogs but I’d still see her around and I always loved seeing her. I loved chatting with her, I loved arguing with her. She would tell you what was on her mind and even if she didn’t always agree with you, she respected your right to voice your opinion. I considered her a friend.
I won’t see her anymore. We lost a wonderful woman and I pray for her family, for her daughter.
I’m going to miss my friend.
I’ve seen her called everything from a powerful voice to a warrior and that sums it all pretty well. She was a wonderful woman. She was definitely a powerful voice. She was a warrior…
If you’re not resting where you are, lady, I know you’re having fun.
We seem to have lost so many good ones this new year, it’s sad.
RIP Monica!
I particularly liked her observation about hoping for the day when the race of the author isn’t a necessary qualifier to where their novel is shelved in a bookstore. Everytime we take a step toward it seems like unexpected monsters lurk to catch us unaware. We need warriors to remind us of uncomfortable truths and dangerous lies.
Here’s hoping she’s having a lively discussion with St. Peter and that her family is comforted by the knowledge that she was held in regard and affection by her peers.