I called myself out on it, then committed to expressing what it would be like to struggle with hopelessness. Ultimately, I discovered that Beth had more fight in her than I’d initially given her credit for, and that her perspective was anything but “one note.” Rather, it was symphonic, even if the symphony was at times quite dark.

JC: Olivia’s synesthesia gives her a different experience of the world than Jazz, in every sense, no pun intended. I’m sure everyone asks you this – what made you choose this condition for Olivia? What did this allow you to do as a writer?

TW: I learned about synesthesia—a condition whereby a person’s sensory areas are uniquely wired—while reading an article years ago. The article immediately went into my story idea folder. And when I started to brainstorm my second book, that article was the first out of the story idea folder. Of course I had to create a character who would see sounds and smell sights and taste words. How could I not?

It wasn’t until I joined a synesthesia Listserv for the purpose of research that I realized the full scope of possibility for writing about the condition. Some there described their synesthesia in unusual ways. For example, synesthetes might see or hear something that makes them smell something unusual, like desperation, rather than what we might expect, like vanilla or roses or dog breath. I latched onto the idea and chose to describe some of Olivia Moon’s perceptions using abstract concepts. Doing that allowed me to showcase more of her mindset, and even affected the premise; Olivia dreamed the taste of hope one night, and she was determined to taste it again.

Bottom line: Writing about synesthesia was delicious. Pun intended.

JC: The two sisters train-hop and meet some questionable characters. What sort of research did you do to learn about the people who choose to live and travel by riding the rails? That must’ve been such a fascinating look into this subculture, if they ever think of themselves as a subculture.

TW: I believe they do think of themselves as a subculture. There are even underground magazines for the train community, which I read; they’re pretty wild. I corresponded, through a go-between, with a train hopper. He relayed much about that world through tales and the manner of their telling. He was gruff and dark and honest and mouthy, and the character of Hobbs came to life, in part, because of that experience.

I also read a book on train hopping: Hopping Freight Trains in America by Duffy Littlejohn. (Train hoppers create names for themselves, too. “Duffy Littlejohn” gets a mention in The Moon Sisters.)

Though this doesn’t speak to characters, I also traveled to West Virginia and rode the rails. I spoke with the rail authority there about hopping, and learned how to do it. Recently I met with a female train hopper in a book club. I asked her how that section of the book read to her, if descriptions of hopping were true to her experience, and she said that they were. That was really gratifying.

JC: Now that you’ve finished your second novel, what advice on writing or the writing life do you wish you had listened to the first time around?

TW: I wish I’d listened to the advice to write a first draft as quickly as you can. I tend to be tentative with the script because I don’t want to make mistakes. But I’ve found that my best storytelling happens not when I worry every line and detail but when I allow story to erupt out of me—messy and unplanned. I hope (I really hope) that I can be less timid about drafting moving forward. A first draft is not the finished product. It’s not a product at all. It’s an explosion of primal thought, and no explosion is neat.

NOTE: This blog was migrated from an older website and comments didn't survive the trip. Feel free to repopulate the comments!