Addison Stone’s sudden death left nothing but questions; everyone felt they knew her best, but once she died it seemed to be so much smoke and mirrors. So I decided to find out: who was
Addison, really? What were we to her? The tells her inner circle’s story. Now I want to hear yours. Write something; paint; sculpt; collage; take a photo. Just create something and post it. Give us your memories of her. Maybe together we can put our shattered butterfly back together.
This isn’t your average blog tour. Instead of a traditional interview, review, or guest post, we’re asking you to join in the spirit of The Unfinished Life of Addison Stone, a docu-novel that tries to get to the bottom of who Addison Stone really is.
Obviously you don’t *really* know her–she doesn’t actually exist–but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun pretending, right?
My tribute to Addison Stone:
I didn't know Addison. Not like Lincoln or Jonah knew her. We were both in the same art class at Pratt. I remember thinking how talented Addison was, but also how lonely and vulnerable she was. Everything she was feeling could be seen right on that canvas for everyone to see. The day she stopped coming to class was "the day the music died" so to speak. I will never be as talented as she was. She was truly something special.
|Visit IAmAddisonStone.com to learn more about Addison Stone|