While researching a book I am insatiable. I want to know everything about my subject. I read thousands and thousands of pages. My brain crunches all of that research into a single story; details gleaned from my research rise up at just the right moment to illustrate the text. Of course, less than 2 percent of what I’ve read actually makes it into the finished book, but probably 80 percent of what I’ve learned is subtly woven into the story. When the book is finished I have no desire to return to that subject again. I feel as if I have exhausted the topic and the topic has exhausted me. And, therefore, I have little or no interest in writing sequels.
Category: The Music of Dolphins
My friends and family help me with every book project, from listening to me blather on about my subject as I go deeper and deeper into the research, to critically reading the manuscript, sometimes repeatedly, as I do revisions. In the case of THE MUSIC OF DOLPHINS, my parents and my aunt were particularly helpful in connecting me with the Florida Coast Guard, who agreed to take me up in a helicopter and fly me over the Florida straits. Unfortunately, because of weather conditions, we were unable to go through with our plans. The other connection my family made for me on that same research trip went a good deal more successfully. I visited a dolphin research center in the Tampa area and spent time with a remarkable male dolphin named Sunset Sam. What I learned from my time with this highly intelligent cetacean unquestionably informed my portrayal of Mila in the book.
As a reader, I find certain books linger with me for months, for years, and occasionally for decades. Books have kept me afloat when I wondered how much longer I could hold on. They have taught me about decency and integrity. Books have shown me how survival is possible even when the odds suggest otherwise. Books have also taught me the elegance and beauty and power of language, not just for the message it contains but for the simple way it rolls off the tongue, the way it delights and excites every sense. Do I expect to have the same impact on my readers that certain writers have had on me? No. But I am grateful for every reader and for each opportunity to communicate and to share. If the reader feels less alone as he or she spends time inside one of my books, that’s enough for me.
Dolphins have been documented as assisting humans in the water from time to time. After extensive research I created this story out of my imagination. Years later the case of Elian Gonzalez splashed into the news making my tale of Mila seem even more plausible. THE MUSIC OF DOLPHINS is not based on one real event but rather assembled from a collection of reports and deep research.
Ideas come from so many places. Sometimes, when I’m reading the work of other writers, I feel a finger of inspiration tickle my brain. I’ve transformed magazine and newspaper articles into novels and picture books. Concerts, lectures, documentaries, television and radio interviews can also become story catalysts. Occasionally a fan letter will open up a possible avenue to a story, or an overheard conversation in the doctor’s office, or someone sitting across the aisle from me in the theater. I trawl my own life, both my childhood and my adult years, for story ideas, too. Not every experience leads directly to a book, but every experience holds that potential within it.
I often take two years to complete a novel. OUT OF THE DUST took two years. PHOENIX RISING, two years. BROOKLYN BRIDGE, two years, too.
THE MUSIC OF DOLPHINS is also in the “two year” club.
I spend about a year doing research, another year writing and revising.
And no, I do not do the work on a deserted island under a palm tree. Most of the time I labor away in a tiny office in Vermont.
No. I’ve always written what I “had” to write. When a story won’t leave me alone. When it won’t let me put it aside, or ignore it, or discard it. When it haunts me until I have no choice but to write it, I surrender in the end and give the project my complete heart and soul. That’s my process. Winning the Newbery Medal and the MacArthur Award changed my life in many, many ways, but it did not change how or how much I write.