Patron Saint of Butterflies is a work of fiction, but according to your bio it is inspired by personal experience. Can you explain?

My biography states that I was raised in a religious commune, which is indeed true. My parents met, married and settled down in a religious commune in upstate New York in the late sixties. In 1971, they had me (and seven other children) and for the next fifteen years, we lived within this existence. It was not until 1985, five years after the leader of the commune died, that the last vestiges of the place finally disintegrated. Soon after, my parents moved our family to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, where I still live now.

Personal experiences aside, however, I think it is safe to say that all writers of fiction draw on some facet of their history. Where else do you start, really? Writing about what you know – or knew – comes the most naturally, or at least it did for me. Being able to draw on things I remember as a kid being raised in a religious commune helped shape this book enormously. But it wasn’t the only thing. And it wasn’t even the most important thing. The most important thing was getting the characters, who, while figments of my imagination, are still very much their own persons, to matter to the reader. The thing that matters most to me as a writer is to create characters that people will care about long after the last page has been read.

What made you want to write about this experience in novel form in the first place, and then specifically for teens?

The novel form appealed to me because I think this story works best as a fast-paced narrative. There needed to be a solid beginning, middle, and ending. I also wanted to write it as a novel because I thought it was important to get inside the girls’ heads, to let the reader know what they were thinking – especially during some of the times most fraught with danger and/or fear. I originally began the book just from Agnes’ perspective. But about 150 pages into it, I realized (with a sinking feeling!) that Honey was demanding to be heard as well. She was practically yelling off the pages! And so I went back to the beginning and started over.

As far as writing for teens is concerned, I didn’t start the book thinking about a teen audience. I just wrote from these girls’ perspectives, and they just happened to be teens. I’m thrilled that it has found a YA home and can’t wait to hear what teenagers across the country think about it.

The term religious cult is rife with negative connotations. From your experience, do you agree? Why? Were there any aspects of that life that were positive?

I think when people hear the term “religious cult,” they immediately connect it to frightening, apocalyptic events they have heard on the news, such as David Koresh and Waco, or the Heaven’s Gate members who committed mass suicide waiting for Hailey’s Comet. Such drastic, violent movements were not included in the commune I grew up in, but I will say this: I think it is safe to say that any time a given number of people turn over their lives to one person, not much good will come out of it.

The single most positive thing that came out of my experience is my family, who has proved, over and over again, that love is stronger than evil. My family is my rock, from my parents, to my seven younger siblings. None of what we went through was easy. But getting to where we are now was worth every bit of it.

Given your history, when writing your novel were you careful of who and what you were depicting so that it would not appear as if you were replicating any facet of your own life, or was that never a concern?

The bottom line is this: I didn’t want to write a story about my life. I just wanted to write a good story. I remember a certain time, maybe in my early 20’s, when I realized suddenly that my history was rife with possibility. Story-telling possibility, I mean. I spent a good deal of my life feeling ashamed of being so different. (I have yet to meet a person who shares a past similar to mine, although I know they are out there.) My childhood circumstances were unique and took me a great deal of time to embrace that, instead of trying to hide it from the world. But when I accepted it, when I realized that my history was what in fact, made me who I am today, it was much easier to start appreciating it for what it was: a really interesting, at times even fascinating account, instead of something I had to keep a secret. And so I began to write about these interesting, fascinating things. Eventually, they took on a life of their own and as I delved more deeply into it, the characters began to tell me what it was they wanted to do and say, how they wanted to think and feel.

I think when all is said and done, while facets of my own life may have been drawn upon, this story belongs to Agnes and Honey.

Do you consider yourself a religious or a spiritual person? If yes, do you think it is because of or despite your childhood experience?

I had a hard time with religion for a long time after we left the commune. I felt betrayed by God in general and wanted no part of him or anything else for that matter. Forget the church. I didn’t set foot in one for years. But I was also aware of a deep sadness inside of myself that nothing – not medicine or running or even my beautiful children – could fill. I started reading books with religious themes in them – books like Looking for Mary by Beverly Donofrio and Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies – and I began to realize that religion could be a very quiet, personal thing – the opposite of what I had been taught. I wouldn’t classify myself as a religious person now, but I will say that that deep sadness that nothing could fill is getting full again.

When assimilating to life off the compound, what was the most difficult adjustment? The easiest?

I think the hardest thing was going to school. I went from a three-room classroom with four other kids in my grade – to a public school with hundreds and hundreds of kids. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t know what a lunch line or even homework was! And the kids were exceptionally cruel. Word got out about the commune and I was shunned. People don’t like outsiders, especially ones they don’t understand. It was one of the most difficult times of my life.

The easiest adjustment was the fact that my family remained intact. There were a number of families from the commune who fell apart after it split up. But my parents made a commitment to us to stay together and try to rebuild all the years we had lost. And they did. I don’t think I would have had a chance without them.

You now teach high school English and work with kids on a daily basis who are the same age you were when you were adjusting to major cultural and lifestyle changes. What differences, and what similarities do you see between your teenage years and your students?

I think the major difference I see between myself at that age and the kids I teach is the maturity levels. Kids know so much now – so soon! The world that they are exposed to on a daily basis is rife with violence and sex and drugs – stuff I wasn’t aware of and probably wouldn’t have been aware of - even I hadn’t grown up where I did.

As far as similarities go, I think that despite the technological advances and the rising maturity levels, when all is said and done, kids are just human. They are still very vulnerable, and desperately in need of love and protection – just as I was. Every once in awhile, I will see a kid being teased or bugged at school – and it is no different from the teasing and ribbing I experienced after we moved. As a teacher, I always step in, because I know too well what that kid is feeling. I won’t tolerate bullying or rudeness in my classroom. Life is too short to be mean.

Have there been any stories that you’d like to share of people’s reactions when they first learned that you did not have a “typical” childhood?

I have one that sticks in my mind, if only for its exclusivity. After we left the commune, I had a very difficult time adjusting. After awhile, I fell into a deep depression and went to see a psychologist. He was a sweet, gentle man with a manner about him that put me immediately at ease. He took my information down rapidly, jotting down details here and there – but then stopped cold as I mentioned the commune. He crossed his legs and sat back in his chair. “Can you tell me a little bit more about this commune?” he asked. I talked for an hour without stopping. He listened intently, every once in awhile looking down at his file to write something else down. When I finished, he closed the file, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ve never had anyone with this kind of case history. But if you let me figure out how to help you, I’ll do my best.”

Some people may think that an odd reaction, maybe even a weakness for a psychologist to admit that he was unsure how to treat me. But what he said put me immediately at ease. And as a result, it was the first time I was able to talk about the commune so straight-forwardly, without feeling like a freak. I believed him when he said he would figure out a way to help me get through it. When I look back now, that day was really the beginning of my healing process.

Agnes and Honey are your two main characters in Patron Saint of Butterflies. Do you see yourself in either girl? If so, how so?

Agnes and Honey are very much their own persons. I tried to make each girl as different from each other as possible, from their mannerisms to their beliefs, to the way they reacted to the outside world. That being said, and to echo an earlier answer, I think there are probably parts of me in both girls. As a kid, like Agnes, I wanted desperately to be perfect. But there was also a small rebellious streak in me, too. Like Honey, I harbored secret fantasies of yelling horrible things at the leader or running away from the commune completely.

I try very hard to write as accurately as possible. By that, I mean that I try to get down on paper how people talk and act in real life, right down to the smallest details. Still, the person’s head I can most easily tap into while doing this is mine. So there are most likely sides of myself in Agnes and in Honey that even I don’t realize!

What do you hope people will take away from their reading of Patron Saint of Butterflies?

I hope that my characters are engaging and thoughtful and interesting enough for my readers to care about them. It would be great if conversations were sparked about how kids manage to cope in circumstances that to some, may seem impossible. And when all is said and done, it would be great if someone put the book down and said, “What a great story!”