You likely met and were delighted by Pauline through her stories or at a convention. I met her at dinners and holiday parties, and she was just as delightful at those. Pauline put an unconventional stamp on the world, living her life with style and a deep perception that went well beyond the surface. She talked to me with respect even when I was a child, never acting as if I couldn't understand just because I happened to be younger. She set high expectations, and that made me want to live up to them.

Pauline loved animals. (You knew that from her stories.) She had a dollhouse full of miniatures that I found breathtaking in their delicacy. (Remember that thing about expecting me to be responsible? Do. Not. Touch. No, ma’am! Hands at my sides.) She loved her family, and she loved Ireland. She loved stories, whether the ones she created or the ones she witnessed or the ones passed down to her by others.

Even before I was writing, Pauline encouraged my storytelling and showed me it was okay to cherish all the weird little things that made my heart happy. The world was touting one way to live, and Pauline stood there on the other side demonstrating through her own life that it was fine to enjoy all these “atypical” things-- to enjoy them with style. She emblazoned her imprint on the world, and it was like a beacon.

Pauline functioned as my writing mentor and my inspiration when I got serious about storytelling. She let me gush over Varn Tarl Sogan as my “book boyfriend.” She read my early and painful novels, giving advice and encouragement, and then one day she declared those stories ready to fly on their own. She entrusted me with some of her own unpublished works. She outlined how the publishing process would go. She even dedicated a book to me.

She mentored other writers as well, and they say the same: Pauline helped them far beyond what they expected when they reached out, and subsequently she became their friend and their touchstone.

Did you ever speak to Pauline? Couldn’t you just feel her convictions running through her? As I sat with her a few weeks before she died, she still had those deep convictions of right and wrong, of how the world ought to be, of how our values form our very selves. Her characters knew right from wrong, and so did she. Her characters sacrificed for the good of others. They suffered and in some cases gave everything in order to breathe light back into a dark and wicked world.

Likewise, Pauline also breathed light into the world. She held beauty and hope in her hands, crafted it into words, and then opened her fingers to let her stories fly free. Thank you for allowing her stories to alight in your heart. Now breathe your own light into the world, and when life is at its darkest, set it free to fly.

Sincerely,
Jane Lebak