Becoming Josephine (45 page)

J
osephine led a rich an
d vivid life, almost melodramatic, some would say. So many details of her youth, her time during the Revolution, and especially her reign with Napoleon are documented in tireless detail. Yet despite the many factual accounts of Josephine’s life, I found myself yearning to know her heart—her secret desires, the fear and desperation, the excitement or regret she felt as she began each new phase of her life. I became enthralled by her ability to adapt, her grace and generosity, and the fiery spirit beneath her perfectly lacquered veneer. She was a survivor, an ardent lover, and a mother to her children, her men, and her country. I hope I have communicated that in
Becoming Josephine
.

Though this novel is based largely in fact, it is ultimately a work of fiction. I made editorial decisions to preserve the momentum in the narrative or to highlight certain details for the sake of the story. Also, due to the thirty years spanned in the novel, I compressed periods of Josephine’s history to emphasize the theme of her inner growth.

All letters have been fabricated (though based upon authentic letters), except for those attributed to Napoleon Bonaparte, which are excerpts from actual letters reproduced exactly as he wrote them in
Napoleon’s Letters
, a collection edited by J. M. Thompson. The only exception is Napoleon’s short farewell to Josephine near the end of the novel.

For more anecdotes about Josephine and the Bonapartes, and my own musings about these lives and times, visit HeatherWebb.net.

W
hen I began this process, I had no idea how many great minds would take part in shaping this novel! First and foremost, I must thank my lovely agent, Michelle Brower, whose warmth, market sense, and editing instincts (not to mention her baking recipes) are unparalleled. Denise Roy and the entire crew at Plume—thank you for sharing your wisdom and time on my great adventure. I am blessed to work with such a supportive and talented team.

To my family, the Webbs and DiVittorios, I can never thank you enough for your support, especially my parents, Jeff and Linda Webb, Chris, and Charlene—you keep me honest. I love you beyond words.

A special thanks to my best friend and sister, Jennifer Webb, who gets it. It’s a hard road to follow our dreams.

To my in-laws, Pam and Richard Schreiber, who have cheered me on every step of the way, as well as Levi and Asa Petersen, and all the Petersens and Johnsons. I am utterly blessed to be a part of your loving fold. Also thank you, Joy Steed, for your warm support.

To my coven of women who have stood by me in the best of times and the worst, especially Angie Parkinson, Heather Tracy DeFosses, Christine Taylor, Kelly Loveday, Angela Burns, and Christina McCrory. And to Rebecca Alexander Haeger—girl, no one should have to listen to so many conversations about the publishing industry. I’m not sure where I’d be without you all. I love you.

My novel would not have realized its full potential without the input of my beloved critique group, the SFWG. I cherish each one of you. Your insight and talent lift me up on a daily basis. I raise my glass to you: Susan Spann, Amanda Orr, Marci Jefferson, Julianne Douglas, Janet B. Taylor, DeAnn Smith, Candie Campbell, Lisa Janice Cohen, and Arabella Stokes.

A special thanks to my early readers and the never-ending support of many friends, including Jeffrey and Mary Withey, Christine Troup, Joe Anastasio, my book club, and all the fine folks at Bacon Academy and the Mansfield Community Center. Thank you!

To my tribe! From my childhood and college friends to my fellow teachers, students, and beyond; the fabulous group at Writer Unboxed; my friends at the Historical Novel Society; the Backspace community; and my hilarious, witty friends from Twitter and Facebook. You know who you are. Your daily cheer and thoughtful insight keep this party going.

Finally, the biggest gratitude there is to my babies, Kaia and Nicolas. There’s no one on this planet who will ever love you more! And to my husband, Chris. You’re the real deal, baby. You’re the reason poetry was invented. I love you.