You might be wondering about the roots of my latest novel, as it’s definitely a bit different than stories I’ve told in the past. Well, here goes…

About two years ago, I was submitting ideas to Lake Union for possible publication. I had my first one, An Unfinished Story, alive and well in my head. There was another that may never see the light of day, though some of the characters will surely land somewhere else. But I needed a third and was under time pressure to come up with something. That’s when the magic happened.

As all of you creatives know, trying to force an idea rarely works, and that’s what I found myself doing. My agent wanted all my ideas the next morning. I was at my in-laws’ place in Naples, Florida, pacing the floors, beating my head against the wall, nearly losing my mind. What about this or that? None of it rang true. (Creating on demand is a skill that I suspect takes a lifetime to master.)

Exhausted and frustrated, I finally collapsed onto the couch, shaking my head. About the time I was reminding myself, “Just stop, Boo. Quit trying to find something and be present, let the fear ago, and the story will appear,” my mother-in-law sat down next to me. We started chatting and she suddenly was telling me her story, growing up in a poor Italian family in a small coal-region town in Pennsylvania, eventually breaking away to make it on her own as an artist. Guys, every step was jaw-dropping. I’d never known any of it, nor had my wife.

There was star-crossed love, and both the strife and romance of the sixties and seventies: the war, the protests, the music, the clothes. There were the struggles of women in the workforce and the beautiful and ugly characters in and out of her life. And there were the bones of some great drama that I knew I could throw gasoline on to make even worse.

She must have been halfway through when I, with chill bumps rising on my skin, said, “I need this story. I want to tell this story.” I asked her if she’d let me run with it but allow me to make it my own, changing characters and tweaking plot lines, making the people and situations more extreme than they actually were. (For example, and for the record, her real grandmother was nothing like the Italian nonna in my novel.) And I wanted to move the setting to Portland and Bar Harbor, Maine, both of which I knew would make for a great setting and offer the bonus of fun research trips.

I wanted to keep so much of her tale, though, including her huge Italian family and their amazing traditions, and the way she fought to make money after moving from her small town, and all her struggles as an artist. And, of course, the juicy drama that had hooked me. (Sorry, no spoilers.)

In the following weeks and even months and really all the way to publication, she and I worked together to create The Singing Trees. Basically, we played the what-if game all the time, figuring out ways to amp up the drama. What if she’d done this instead of that, what if this had happened, almost like supercharging the story. And often, when I was stuck, I’d call her and we’d chat about solutions or possible outcomes. Or if I wanted to know more about the time period or Italian-American life, the little details, she’d fill me in. 

It was an amazing way to get to know my mother-in-law, who is one of the kindest and most loving people on earth. And she’s one of my most ardent supporters, always has been. She’s about to read The Singing Trees for the fifth time! How lucky am I?

Oh, how could I forget the wind chimes? As my mother-in-law’s story brewed in my imagination, I began corresponding with a reader named Liz Thurston, who casually mentioned that she made wind chimes and hung many of them in her backyard. I suddenly pictured an entire forest of wind chimes (ah, that’s where the title comes from) and the vision stuck with me, so much so that I knew the idea belonged in my book. Side note: Liz, who I’ve come to learn is an extraordinary person, gifted me several beautiful sets, and I can’t wait to hang them in my backyard upon our return to the U.S. You’ll have to read my book to see the influence the wind chimes throughout the story.

Thanks for reading!

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