This may be old news to some, but in the Anne-Frank Fonds email newsletter today, it was revealed that the horse chestnut tree that comforted Anne during her time in hiding has fallen down.  The tree withstood war, disease, girders, and finally succumbed last month.

Nearly every morning I go to the attic to blow the stuffy air out of my lungs, from my favorite spot on the floor I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree, on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, and at the seagulls and other birds as they glide on the wind. As long as this exists, I thought, and I may live to see it, this sunshine, the cloudless skies, while this lasts I cannot be unhappy.

As many of you know, non-fiction sells on proposal; that is, a proposal, sample chapter, and outline is written, the book (hopefully) sells, and then a deadline for actually writing the book is set and memorialized in a huge long contract the likes of which nobody has ever seen.  The Heroine’s Bookshelf was no different, and starting in about July of 2009, I found myself faced with a difficult task…just whom would I include in the book, anyway?

Some heroines, like Jo March or Jane Eyre or Scarlett O’Hara, were non-negotiable.  Others started on a long list that became shorter the more I found out about their creators.  I wanted heroines that represented a diverse set of characteristics and ones whose stories were closely linked to those of their authors.  They’d have to be fictitious, and the author’s lives would have to have resonance today.  Finally, I’d have to consider things like “will I be able to quote this piece of work without signing away my firstborn child and all subsequent offspring?”

One who regrettably made her way off the list early was a long-time personal heroine, Anneliese Marie Frank.  My copy of The Diary of Anne Frank is disintegrating from love and wear; I reread the book every few years and have read both the unedited critical edition and the diary in German (a revelation). Actually, I finally bought myself the critical edition once I received my first advance check.

So why’s Anne such a compelling heroine?

You probably already know this, but Anne did not make it to her 16th birthday.  Yet in her very sophisticated diary she tackles love, sexuality, war, parents, pain, friends, food, and humor with the insight of a much older woman.

Despite her sophistication (and her work is truly a literary feat…see Francine Prose’s excellent new book for more), she was still a child.  She was petty, bratty, and rambunctious, and she struggled to find a place among a set of adults who were still struggling to adjust to the Dutch emigrant life she had accepted with open arms

She took the time to document something so huge and horrible it can hardly be imagined.  She gave that to us.

There are many, many other things that make Anne a favorite heroine (I adore her preening in the bathroom even though there’s nobody to dress up for), but that’s a good start for now.  Sadly, Anne was disqualified for the book by being very real and not fictitious at all.  But I still count her on the list of my internal heroines.

Great books about Anne:

• The Diary of Anne Frank – The Critical Edition
• Anne Frank Remembered – Miep Gies
• Anne Frank – Her life in words and pictures – Anne Frank House

• Writing as fun:  Who can forget the image of Jo March scribbling in her attic, cap on head, pillow at the ready, rats scurrying all around?  Though I know that Louisa May Alcott’s experience of the writing “vortex” was a bit more painful, her character’s no-holds-barred approach to writing reminds me to have some fun with the process.  After all, what other profession includes dreaming, crying, even eavesdropping in its description?
• Writing as salvation:  The story of the Brontës is all I need to remember that I am lucky to have the outlet of writing.  I may not pace around a table at Haworth, but like Charlotte, Emily, and Anne, I try to pour my relief and anxiety into my work.  It helps.
• Writing as rebellion:  She may have written a century ago, but I still consider Colette to be the ultimate literary rebel (and writing about her literary declaration of independence was one of the highlights of The Heroine’s Bookshelf).  Sometimes I find myself continuing work just to prove to myself that I can…that I have something to say, after all.  And I usually do.
• Writing as legacy:  I recently treated myself both to Francine Prose’s excellent new Anne Frank book and the Revised Critical Edition of Anne’s timeless diary.  I didn’t get a chance to include Anne in my book, but I am touched by her awareness that her legacy in the world was a written one.  I won’t ever presume to be an Anne, but thoughts of a literary legacy of some kind are a nice reminder when the going gets tough (and a push to revise the hell out of my terrible first drafts so that nobody reads them when I’m gone!).
• Writing as reading:  As an unabashed bookworm, I can say that there’s nothing so tantalizing as the thought of showing my work to others, no matter how painful that process might be.  The wit, spunk, and sass of my favorite heroines reminds me that I can’t have readers unless I write.  Talk about motivation!