On Jane Friedman site:

Tales of adversity, star-crossed lovers, buried secrets, and critical decisions keep readers glued to the page. Why? Because in many cases, these stories don’t just feel familiar; they’re part of our own family lore.

For me, it was the story of my grandparents, separated for eight years across an ocean during World War II. When my grandmother emigrated from a Sicilian fishing village to Milwaukee in 1938, she left behind my grandfather, believing their separation would be temporary. But within two years, Italy entered World War II, and my grandfather was deployed to Sardinia. Just 17 months later, Italy declared war on the U.S., and my grandparents’ only form of communication—love letters—abruptly ceased.

Years later, I began penning their story in a creative writing class. But I hit a wall. My grandmother had shared few details about the war years. My grandfather, even fewer. I feared I couldn’t adequately tell the story until my teacher suggested I write it as fiction, using the facts as scaffolding and imagination to fill the gaps.

That advice changed everything.