Back in the Red Rocks: Why Some Stories Refuse to Stay in the Drawer

Returning to the Sedona Film Festival, I’m looking back at the seven-year fire that turned a single "insult" into a legacy.

Gone west! My husband and I are back among the golden cliffs of Sedona.

I am writing to you once again from the Sedona International Film Festival. A year ago, I sat in this same atmosphere of storytelling and shared an essay about the “anger” that ignited my book, Saving Vincent.

Looking back today, I realize that while the book is finished, the fire hasn’t dimmed—it has just changed shape. A year ago, I was reflecting on the struggle to get the facts right.

Today, I’m reflecting on why we must fight for those facts in the first place.

Anger, I’ve learned, isn’t just a spark; it’s a compass. It tells you exactly where the untold story is buried. Here is a look back at how a single insulting comment about Jo van Gogh set me on a seven-year path to setting the record straight.

When I Got Mad

In 2016, I was searching for the truth about Jo van Gogh, Vincent’s sister-in-law. I knew her work was the reason he was famous, yet history had largely ignored her.

I’ll never forget the interview that set my teeth on edge. An expert was asked why Jo was so tenacious in promoting Vincent. His answer? She had no choice; she was simply obeying her husband, Theo.

Those words—“no choice” and “obedience”—pissed me off. It was as though Jo couldn’t have her own agency. That annoyance created the questions that fueled my life for the next seven years: What was her true motivation? What gave her such resilience? Why was she so certain of Vincent’s value when the world disagreed?

The “Rookie” Pivot

I plowed into writing, but I made a classic mistake: I imagined too much. I spent two years writing a reimagined version of Jo, only for the Van Gogh Museum to release a definitive biography in 2020.

My heart plummeted. In the face of new facts, my imagined story felt flimsy. I couldn’t “mute” the real Jo by keeping my fictionalized version. I dropped the manuscript in a drawer and started over.

Language Obstacle Overcome

The new biography was in Dutch—a language I don’t speak. I was stuck behind a “three-inch-spine” wall of answers I couldn’t read.

Then, an answer appeared. Through a chain of writer friends, I found a teacher, Annelies, in the Netherlands. Out of work due to the pandemic, she agreed to translate ten pages a week for me. With her help, I gradually filled in, a 55-page spreadsheet. Jo’s real life emerged: the exhibitions she held, the paintings she sold, and her journey from a 28-year-old widow to a triumphant 43-year-old art dealer.

But a spreadsheet isn’t a story. It had the facts, but no “dark night of the soul.”

I had to learn to weave those facts into a compelling narrative arc. I studied story structure and integrated a composite figure, Georges Raulf, to serve as the narrative foil—a manifestation of the very arrogance and misogyny Jo faced regularly. By January 2023, after years of revisions and the help of a sisterhood of supportive writers, the manuscript was finally done.

One Year Later

What began as a protest against a glib remark is now a finished novel. Last year, I asked if my heart was still on fire. The answer remains: Oh, yes. Because while Jo’s story is now on the page, there are still so many false narratives in the world today that need correcting. Sometimes, getting mad is the most productive thing a writer can do.

The 21st-Century Legacy

Since I wrote those words a year ago, my relationship with Jo has evolved once more. I’ve moved past the anger of her being ignored and am now in an era of doing my part to spread the word on who she is. In deep admiration for her business acumen, I recently developed a talk titled, “The Van Gogh Entrepreneur: Building a Billion-Dollar Legacy from Nothing.” Call her the CEO of the Van Gogh brand, for in studying her actions and decisions to promote Vincent’s art, I discovered a marketing masterclass.

Jo did not obey a ghost; she executed a sophisticated, multiple-strategy lifetime work to build the Van Gogh legacy. I’ve identified 12 specific strategies she used in the early 20th century—tactics involving scarcity, networking, and content marketing—that are just as effective in our digital age.

As I spend this week surrounded by filmmakers in Sedona—ardent storytellers hellbent on sharing their art and striving to get their work recognized—I’m reminded that Jo van Gogh cracked that code over a hundred years ago. After all, millions around the globe know the Van Gogh name.

My writing journey may have started with anger. But today, sharing her story is a joy. My hope is that more of those who know the name Vincent van Gogh will know Jo’s name too.

Warmly,