![]() ![]() ![]() I schlepped my bags over to take a closer look. She wore a belted overcoat, and was balanced on the balls of her booted feet, one arm cradling a bouquet of flowers, the other raised triumphantly aloft as though waving to a crowd. She was standing outside the international terminal, a woman in bronze. What would become my next project?īut then I saw her. In fact, by the time I arrived at the airport to leave, my book-in-progress was officially dead. I’d hiked around the base of 12,000-foot Mount Cook, cruised through spectacular fjords, and landed on a glacier in a plane equipped with skis. I’d swum with hundreds of dusky dolphins in Kaikoura. I’d been traveling alone for a few weeks, driving around the South Island, admiring the Lord of the Rings-y landscapes, and theoretically working on the manuscript that I’d written a hundred pages of and thought would become my third novel. What I didn’t know at the time was that though I was en route home to California, I was embarking on a journey that would last seven years and take me all over the world. In the fall of 2013, I saw a statue at the airport in Auckland, New Zealand, and it gave me the seed of an idea. By now it’s a story I’ve told many times. ![]()
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