Yesterday morning, I thought about my former fiction editor, Kate Duffy, and wondered how she was doing. I considered dropping her an email, but didn’t. Then this morning, I learned that Kate died yesterday. Not a welcome synchronicity.
She was an original, an Aquarian with a Cancer moon who had a biting wit and a raucous laugh. She rescued my fiction career in February 1997, when she bought one of my paranormal thrillers, Hanged Man. We did a total of 12 books together and during that time, I came to appreciate how rare she was as an editor. She understood that novelists do their best work when they write about what they love and always gave me complete creative freedom. She was also a relentless cheerleader for my books.
But more than this, Kate understood the terrain of the human heart. When my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimers and my dad moved in with us, she called frequently to find out how we were doing. In May of 2000, Kate called when I was sitting at my desk, sobbing, and I told her I would have to call her back. She wouldn’t let me get off the phone until I told her what had happened. I had just been told by my mother’s doctor that she wasn’t a candidate for hip replacement surgery because of the Alzheimer’s and that she was now doomed to live out the remainder of her life on morphine. Kate talked me through it. When my mother died, when my father passed on several years later, she was there to talk.
When her dad was ill, I remember looking at her birth chart – and his – and telling her about a challenging period that was coming up. A few months later, I felt something had happened to her and called her cell – which I’d never done before. She was on the train, her father had just died.
During a trip to New York, Kate took Megan and I out to lunch and asked Megan, then 15, about the time travel novel she was writing. She listened as though Megan were one of her authors and then gave her some advice about it. This is the kind of person she was.
Her time and expertise were always available to me and I used both liberally. I could give her a single paragraph of an idea and she would know immediately whether it would work. When I was nominated for an Edgar Allan Poe award, Kate sent roses. When I won, I sent roses to her.
At a romance conference in Orlando in 2005, the last time I saw Kate, she and I stole away at nine PM one night to watch Lost, a show we both loved. We drank wine and laughed, talked life and politics. On my way home the next day, I had a weird feeling that I wouldn’t ever see Kate again. Fifteen minutes later, I got a flat tire. At the time, I didn’t associate the thought with the flat tire.
The relationship between novelists and their editors is often complex. You may be friends, but you’re always aware the editor has the final say on what you write. So in April 2008, when I learned from my agent that Kensington wouldn’t be renewing my contract, I was hurt. I had sensed it might happen,but here it was. Real. Kate called me later that afternoon – something she certainly didn’t have to do – and told me how much she had enjoyed working with me. I understood it was business, so it didn’t feel like a dismissal. It felt like what it was – Kate reaching out one last time to offer encouragement, options.
We were both big Obama supporters, so it seems fitting that the last email we exchanged was right after Obama had won the election.
Me: We’re watching the birth of a whole new paradigm! Yahoo!!!
Kate: Went to bed in tears.
I’d say, rest in peace, Kate, except that you probably aren’t. I figure you’re starting your own publishing house on the other side and writers are already flocking to you. I’m sure I’ll see you around or hear that booming laugh in some unexpected place. Take care, Kate, and thanks for everything.
What a beautiful post. I'm so sorry for your lost as world as the rest of the world. She sounded like a wonderful person who will be missed.
~Crystal
What a beautiful tribute. Kate touched many lives. Her memory will live forever. Thanks for sharing.
LaShaunda
Hugs to you. I love Jenean's words. Thank you for painting a lovely picture of Kate.xx♥
I've read a few blogs today about Kate, and probably will read many more tributes to her in the weeks ahead. I only met her twice, once before I knew-of-her (I was a clueless newbie author) and again recently when I worked with her on a contest. She was very personable and helpful while I (by that time) was almost giddy with awe to be working with THE Kate Duffy. 🙂
The best description I've read so far is, "She's the Julia Child of romance."
Even having only a quick and passing connection with Kate Duffy, I feel a loss.
I know from her reputation in the industry that she had a positive impact on hundreds of authors. Because of that, her energy has touched the hearts of millions of readers, even though they don't know it.
Joyful memories.
Oh Trish, what a wonderful connection you had with Kate..(and will continue too) To be so connected to someone that you knew when the other was going thru hard times…I too have had this with several people in my life..its a soul connection . I am sure certain people are here to support and guide us thru our lives,and we in turn with others. Those people never really leave us.
Oops, and Jeff!
Thanks, Whip Warrior, Jenean, Jo, Toumai. But I think more about the impact of her death on her siblings and mother and co-workers she saw daily. For the writers whose books she was editing. When your editor dies, your professional life, at least for awhile, is thrown into chaos. She actually did me a favor by releasing me when she did. I was able to move on, find a new publisher.
Yet, for a very long time, she was an intricate part of my creative life, and for that contact I am grateful. Always.
once, a dear friend, upon my lamenting that "i should have known – i could have done – i should have done, differently", looked me straight in the eye and said to me: jenean, given what you had and what you knew and who you were, you could not have done differently – how could you have? you could not –
and then, again, many years later, another friend, when i asked such a question, said to me: jenean, you must never ever do post-mortems – because in that moment on that day in that way, you did what you could –
both those happenings were many many moons ago but still, whenever i find myself questioning, i remember their words – and know the truth in them –
and so, trish, paying it forward, i say to you that you could not nor should not have done "differently" – and while i did not have the honor of knowing kate this time, i can tell that she shares that sentiment – and hopes that you, too, will come to know the truth of it –
namaste'
Trish, I am genuinely sorry to hear about your loss. Just remember that like all true friends you meet in life, you had the time together that you were meant to have, and you should always cherish that until you see them again someday. You have all the best wishes and support from everyone here, your family of kindred spirits.
Somewhere down the line: thanks, Jenean, for that reminder. You look back and wonder: how could I have done this differently?
oh, dear trish, i, too am so very sorry for your loss – i think you're right about this email to her – and from what you've told us of her marvelous spirit, i'm sure she is hangin' out over there, perhaps checking her emails as i type – and here is your loving message to her which i'm also sure she will cherish forever – then, there's always that next time when you two will run into each other somewhere down the line – i mean, you all found each other this time, right?!
but no matter what is said right now, trish, by anyone, i also know that none of these words will make a difference in this moment – but would that it could, dear friend!
thinking of you with much caring – jenean
Toumai – I guess that's what this post is.
Never too late Trish… to drop her that email
Sorry to hear about this. 🙁
Thanks, Jo. My regret is that I didn't drop her an email.
I am sorry for your loss. It's not easy losing a friend.