Finer details make a difference.

My sister went and saw my brother's Aids quilt. Finally they told her where it was displayed.  She was able to see the finer detail of my brother's quilt.  We had both only see photos that my cousin took before, so were unaware of  the finer detail. (or perhaps I had forgotten)
For example, I didn't know that my sister and I were mentioned in the cloud next to the rainbow.  Or that his partner's name is stitched on the flag at the top of the sailboat. Or that the tree had *Uncle Eric* stitched on it. He was close to his partner's niece and nephew, but he was  also very proud of being a proper uncle to my son. He died before I became pregant with my daughter or indeed before my sister married, but he would have adored all his nieces and nephews.
It is the finer detail that makes the quilt. My brother would not have necessarily approved of the fabric choice but he would have approved of the sentiment and in the end, the sentiment is the most important thing.

The same is true for writing. It is the little details that bring a story to life. It helps to create the awe moment. Or the little bit that you remember. Or the bit that brings a character to life.

My editor had given me her thoughts on my latest Viking. Some work needs to be done, but I needed her eye to see it. She is right in her assessment and it goes straight to the finer detail.

Now comes the hard part -- the writing of the full. But I need to remember the detail makes it.

The AIDS quilt and my family

Yesterday my sister went to the Mall in Washington DC to see if she could find my brother's panel.
My brother died of AIDS in 1992 (hard to believe it has been nearly 20 years). He was 30.
AIDS was not a fashionable illness then, anything but. People I knew told me that I would never have to speak of him and that I shouldn't tell my children about him. (I declined to take their advice btw) It was before various celebrities became involved and started championing it. It was before Tom Hanks was in Philadelaphia.Before Freddie Mercury died.  Before many things.
Eric was the first person really to listen to my stories  and always knew that I would become a writer.  He believed in my ability long before I had the courage to write my stories down.
I don't speak about him often as it is an old wound and private. Like any relationship, we had ups and downs but he was my older brother and I loved him.  Besides they don't tattoo things like that on your forehead and I hated seeing pity in people's eyes or having to explain or... Plus I know he would want me to live my life to the full and in order to do that you do have to put your past behind you. You have to live in the moment.
I have not seen the panel as it was done by friends of my brother.   My mother adores sewing. It is something she has always done but she felt these friends needed to make the panel more.She knew that my sister, her and me would carry Eric in our hearts. (My father died shortly before my brother found out he was ill).
My brother's panel is not out on the Mall  but will be displayed somewhere in Washington later this summer. The quilt is way too big to be displayed all in one place any more. The last time was 1996. I know my sister will find it and honour our brother.
My sister was interviewed about the quilt by National Public Radio for All Things Considered. When I listened, I started crying. You can listen here. It takes a couple of minutes. I am very pleased and proud that my sister consented to be interviewed.
It is good that there is a quilt and people can look at it and see the toll and very real human cost of this disease. They can also see that people who died of this terrible disease were more than just names but living beings with interests and families and friends who loved them.
If you happen to see the AIDS quilt panel 3602, that is my brother Eric Phifer's -- just know that he was loved. He had huge potential and it was very much a life cut short. Which is all you can really say about most of the victims of AIDS.