I am utterly thrilled to welcome my friend Kirby Larson to the blog today. As most (if not all) of you know, Kirby is a super-kind person and a super-brilliant author. To express my sincere thanks for this witty guest post, I am giving away one copy each of Kirby's most recent books:
AND
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| (sequel to Kirby's Newbery Honor-winning book Hattie Big Sky) |
To enter the giveaway, simply leave a comment below this post stating which book you'd like to win. Be sure to include your email so I can reach you. I'll announce the winners on Friday.
And now, without further ado, heeeeere's Kirby!
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Did you know that until about 1910, before bridges and train
tubes, the only way to get to the Big Apple from most of the continental United
States was via ferry? I didn’t either until I was digging around in history for
my latest work-in-progress. Duh, Kirby: Manhattan Island! (Never pick me for your team if geography is involved).
Captivated by this notion, I mulled over old photos of the
ferries, and the dashingly suited men and glorious hatted women riding them. My
imagination had a field day. Just think of chugging across the North River (now
Hudson River), all the while watching the Hoboken Terminal loom larger and
larger into view.
I was so taken with this notion that, the next thing I knew,
I wrote a ferry scene in my WIP. I even tapped into all the five senses! Gosh,
it was fun.
Until Story tapped me on the shoulder, rubbing its head.
“Excuse me,” it said. “I was traipsing along my arc at a pretty good clip and
suddenly I crashed into this.” Story pointed at an inky block of text. The
ferry section. “Do you know where in the heck it came from?”
I blushed, shrugged. “I might have an idea how it got there,”
I said.
“You put there?” Story asked, rubbing a goose egg on its
forehead. “Right in my way?”
“But it’s fascinating,” I said. “Think about it: People
couldn’t reach one of the biggest cities in the world without crossing a
river!”
“And?” Story pressed.
“Well, think of the color. The smell of the river. The chug
of the ferry engine. The grime of the coal powered steam engines.” I tried not
to sound too defensive. “It’s part of history. Facts are good.”
“Okay. Sure. I’ll
grant you that.” Story nodded. “Maybe I should’ve seen it coming. It’s not like
this is the first time something like this has happened when you’re writing. But,
to be perfectly honest, I’m having a hard time figuring out how this whole
ferry scenario fits in.”
I stared at the keyboard, pondering my reply. I glanced back
up at the monitor and re-read the ferry scene. Story was right. Simply because
this fact about ferry travel to New York City was fascinating, it wasn’t fair
of me to shoehorn it in. To put it right in Story’s way. “Can I leave it, just
for awhile longer?” I asked. I cringed at how whiny my voice sounded. “Maybe I
can find a way to work it in so you won’t even know it’s there. This is only a
first draft. Let me see what I can do.”
Long-suffering Story sighed. “I guess I don’t have any
choice,” Story said. “Could you do me one favor though?”
“Anything.”
“I could really use an aspirin.” Story rubbed its head
again. “And maybe a helmet. I know how you are with those fascinating facts.”
This true story is brought to you by Kirby Larson, author of
Hattie Big Sky, Hattie Ever After, The Fences
Between Us, The Friendship Doll
and Duke. Kirby is a founding member
of the Just Say No to Expository Lumps Society. She may have once written an
entire chapter about baking bread in a wood stove. (Thank goodness for critique
groups and editors.)
