Amy Hill Hearth

Everyone knows what it's like to return to their hometown and find that things have changed, but consider my husband's experience. He grew up in Naples, Florida. In 1962, there were 800 year-round residents. Many of the roads were not even paved. Today there are 325,000 people living in Collier County. My husband can't even find his  Read More 

In my novel, "Miss Dreamsville," the main characters belong to a book club in a small town in Florida circa 1962. Among their book selections are "Silent Spring," "Breakfast at Tiffany's," "Their Eyes Were Watching God," and "The Feminine Mystique." Of course, in truth, I'm the one who got to pick the books they read,  Read More 

One hundred and fifty-five years ago today, Henry B. Delany, who would become the first Black elected Bishop of the Episcopal Church U.S.A., was born into slavery on a plantation in St. Marys, Georgia. At the age of 7, he recalled the excitement and shock of learning the Civil War had ended. With his parents and ten older brothers and sisters, little Henry crossed the St. Marys River and settled in Fernandina Beach, Florida. All they had were the clothes they were wearing. They gathered wild plants for food and caught fish in the river. Eventually, they built a lean-to. They were able to get on their feet much more quickly than other freed slaves for one reason: The white family that had "owned" them had broken Georgia law by teaching the Delany children to read and write. In one generation, the Delanys vaulted from poverty. It was Henry, however, who would reach heights no one could imagine. Recruited by a white Episcopal priest to attend Saint Augustine's School (now College) in Raleigh, N.C., Henry impressed everyone he met. He married a fellow student, Nanny Logan Delany, and the couple raised 10 children. Among those children were a pair of sisters, absolutely inseparable, named Sarah ("Sadie") and Elizabeth ("Bessie"). After moving to Harlem, the sisters earned graduate degress from Columbia University and were ground-breaking career women in their own right. I met them in 1991 when they were 100 and 102 years old. Our book, an oral history called HAVING OUR SAY, tells their stories - as well as Henry Delany's, their beloved Papa, whose birthday they continued to celebrate each Feb. 5 until they passed away themselves.  Read More 

Earlier in my life, it was very important to me to be taken seriously. After graduating college in 1982, I worked as a newspaper reporter when it was still very much a man's world, and, consequently, I was constantly proving myself. I did everything I could to avoid writing for the "Women's page" - weddings, social news, and stories about childrearing. I wanted all of the opportunities the men had, and I knew I would have to fight for them. As a result, I volunteered for more than my share of hard-hitting news stories. Ten years later I moved on to books - nonfiction books. I did this for about 17 years. I turned down projects that seemed too lightweight and tackled the tough topics. But then a funny thing happened. I did something completely different! I wrote fiction for the first time in my life. I had no idea if it was any good, and I didn't permit myself to worry about it. I wrote just for fun, and with no deadline or goal in mind. The result is my novel, "Miss Dreamsville and the Collier County Women's Literary Society." There are serious issues addressed in the novel but they are disguised by humorous situations. My little novel has opened up a new world to me. I have met many wonderful people because of it, and I am having new experiences. Last weekend, I went to Texas for the legendary Pulpwood Queens Girlfriend Weekend, which is sort of a retreat for writers and readers. It is a place to let your hair down. There are now pictures of me all over the Internet (some posted by me, others by my new friends) dressed like a Silent Movie star, as Edith Wharton, as a wealthy woman going to dinner on the Titanic, and as a present-day hat model. I can't begin to tell you how much fun it was to play dress-up, something I haven't done since I was about 7 years old and did not know I missed. This hard-hitting newspaper reporter who wanted to be taken so seriously is now a novelist who understands the importance - and joy - of being playful. Thank you, Kathy L. Patrick and all of Pulpwood Queens!  Read More 

Just back from South Florida, where I heard of some Northern folks (friends of friends) who had plans to go camping in the Everglades. I surely hope they knew what they were doing! My husband grew up in Collier County and sometimes camped, as a teenager, in the 'glades, and to this day he won't talk about it, knowing that I'm unnerved by gators and snakes and most everything else that bites and slithers. Even a manatee (sea cow) is scary if you encounter it by accident, at night. When my husband was growing up, and when I was a reporter in Florida in the 1980s, the Florida panther was on the edge of extinction. Now the majestic felines are making a strong comeback - strong enough that there are warnings, like deer crossing signs, for "panther crossings." A woman at one of my booksignings told me she almost hit one with her car! If that doesn't scare Yankees thinking of camping in South Florida, consider this: There are American crocodiles in some parts of far-south Florida. That's right, folks, as if alligators aren't freaky enough, that might be a crocodile (a more aggressive beast than a gator) lurking along the south shore of Marco Island. Of course, all of these critters have the right to be here! But it's a reminder that the Everglades is a place that commands respect.  Read More