My grandmother, Edith Jane Willobee, in her elderly years, hammocked me as a babe in arms, prayed for me daily, and left behind—a thousand pages of diaries, hundreds of photographs, a few Hindu clay idols, a dozen brass pots and other mementos, a string of amber beads, and most importantly ... stories that Hollywood would need to water down to make them believable.
The story (and the diary) that stands out chronicles her journey as a recent widow from the middle of British India in 1926, with her 12- and 15-year-old daughters, as she tries to bring them to America and introduce them to Western civilization. It's an audacious trek that, at every turn, forces her to battle men of various sizes, shapes, and cultures to get her girls safely to America.
The story was first outlined 25 years ago; today, September 13, 2026, marks the start of manuscript development as I build a structural outline based on everything I've been teaching, workshopping, and writing about since 1998.


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