In Jack Gantos’ Newbery-winning novel, DEAD END IN NORVELT, a character says, “…most people think history has to be about a big event like a catastrophe or a moment of divine creation, but every soul is a book of their own history… Sadly, we don’t know the history of every person who ever lived…”

This sentiment is why I write historical fiction, and why I write the kind of historical fiction I write.

Millions of real people have lived on this earth in ways that were barely noticed. Some would have stayed unnoticed if their skeletons had not been unearthed thousands of years later and studied. Paleontologists and archeologists can tell us about long gone people by their remains and artifacts they left behind.

The more recent past has been recorded and handed down to us. We read about famous inventors and their inventions. We learn about generals, kings, and presidents, artists and writers, and even outlaws and criminals.

But what about “average” people? People who struggled through their everyday lives, fighting their own personal battles, living their own dramas, but not “making history” by their actions.

We might have heard stories passed down by our parents and grandparents. We can pass those stories on to our own children and grandchildren, stories that get a little less firm in our memories as time fades them. And what about those who don’t have progeny to tell their stories to? Are their stories lost forever?

I research the way people lived in the last two hundred or so years. I listen to stories handed down by families, including my own. I create fictional characters, whose lives are a mixture of many real-life people, people whose stories haven’t been recorded in history books. I write fictional stories that COULD HAVE happened to people. It is my way of trying to make their lives live on, to have meaning for a new generation of readers.

Kathy’s newest novel, EMPTY PLACES, will launch in a few short weeks, and it’s not too late to pre-order a copy or reserve a place at one of the book’s launch events!

EMTPY PLACES has already been in the hands of a few people and some reviews are coming in!

Pre-Order On Amazon Find on Indie Bound

Book Signings

Writing historical fiction means doing a ton of research. I find historical facts, places, and events against which to set my fictional story.

My 2015 novel, LIKE A RIVER, is a Civil War story with a few elements the average reader might not know about. It’s also a story about hardship. And triumph. And people.

My research included stops in six states. I visited dozens of intriguing sites and met numerous helpful people. I learned to load and fire a muzzleloader. I talked to experts and read stacks and stacks of books. I learned a lot of facts.

There were “ah ha!” moments that helped mold my story line. And interesting facts that gave me a new perspective on lives lived 150 years ago.

Many of them will not be in the novel. Some of them were things I needed to learn to get a feel for the place and time I was writing about.

My new novel, EMPTY PLACES, is about a coal miner’s family during the Great Depression, more than eighty years ago. The story all takes place in one state—Kentucky. But I did research in Tennessee, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, as well as Kentucky. I saw old coke ovens and coal mine equipment in Tennessee. I visited a restored coal mine village in Pennsylvania, and saw an old moonshine still in its museum. In Michigan, I drove a 1928 Model A Ford.

The hands-on research is the most fun, but I also love reading about different time periods to see how different—and sometimes how alike—they are compared to today. And again, I wrote a story of hardship, triumph, and people.

Now that 2016 is well under way, I take time to look back at 2015, a year of good and bad, but mostly good.

In my writing career, it was an incredibly good year. I was offered a contract on a second book, even before my first book launched. LIKE A RIVER launched in April to a starred Kirkus review and was a Junior Library Guild Selection. In October it was awarded the inaugural Grateful American Book Prize at Lincoln’s Cottage in Washington, DC. I spoke about it to groups of librarians, historians, and students. Meeting the book’s readers has been extremely gratifying. And students ask the most amazing and intelligent questions.

I worked on revisions of the second novel, and EMPTY PLACES will launch in April, 2016. I also began writing a new novel, which is still in its early stages, but I thoroughly enjoy the journey of writing a book.

In part because of LIKE A RIVER, I was able to reconnect with old friends. A couple met up with me when I attended ALA in Chicago, some came to my launch party, and others found me on Facebook. I wish I had had more time to spend with each of them. I even heard from one of my early writing teachers, author Stephanie Tolan.

I also met many new friends in 2015, both readers and writers, and those who value history.

In my private life, the good mixed readily with the tragic. There were births of grand nieces and nephews, a nephew’s wedding, and a wonderful family reunion. But a cousin passed away, and so did my friend, author Andrea Cheng. Friends and family members have dealt with enormous health issues, and many of those continue into 2016. I pray for them daily.

The mixture of good and bad is what Life is made of. It is also what Story is made of. As 2016 progresses, I hope my Stories will continue to resonate with readers and that Life will be more good than bad.

Books by the Banks is an annual book festival in Cincinnati. I have visited it in the past, but this year I was a participant, sitting in a booth displaying my novel, LIKE A RIVER.

Early in the day, a young boy (maybe 10 years old) and his mother approached my booth. The boy ran his fingers along the cover and asked questions about the book, before his mother nudged him along to the next booth. I watched them move further down the aisle, until the boy left his mother’s side and ran back to my booth.

“How much does this book cost?” he asked.

“$17.95,” I answered.

I watched him go back to his mother and saw her shake her head.

The woman beside me made the comment that the woman probably wouldn’t give a moment’s thought to dropping $18 to take the boy to a movie or taking him out to pizza. And each of those things would last no more than an hour and a half, where the book could take him on a journey for days. If he loved the journey, he could take it again over and over without putting out another nickel. He could share the journey with his parents, siblings, and friends. That $18 investment could bring a great deal of entertainment.

I thought of all the books on my shelf that I have read more than once—and loved each time. If the copies of LIKE A RIVER on my table had been my property, I would have been tempted to give one to the boy.

He came back a third time asking more questions about the book, before he disappeared into the crowd.
An hour or so later, the boy returned a fourth time, bringing his mother along.

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

He nodded, and I signed a book for him.

I will never know for sure whether he read the book or if he enjoyed it, but I am so glad his persistence paid off. Not because it was the sale of one more book for me, but because I know the value of putting a story into a kid’s hands.

Before I wrote LIKE A RIVER, I did a great deal of research about the steamboat Sultana. This boat carried released Prisoners of War after the US Civil War, Union soldiers released from Confederate prisons in Alabama and Georgia.

The boat, built to carry 376 passengers and a crew of 85, was overloaded with about 2500. When it exploded just north of Memphis, it killed more people than died on the Titanic.

Because this happened just after the war had ended and Lincoln had been assassinated, many people believed that the boat had been sabotaged by Confederate sympathizers. No evidence of sabotage was ever found.

But people love a good conspiracy theory.

I recently read a fiction novel that creates a fictional story involving a sabotage version of the Sultana disaster. It tells a conspiracy tale. But it’s fiction. Evidence shows that overloading the boat was what caused the boilers to explode.

I understand that people want a story to be more exciting, and often a conspiracy provides that excitement. But the Sultana disaster was a tragedy in so many ways—without benefit of sabotage thrown in.

Think about it. The men aboard the Sultana had been through the horror of a bloody war and survived it, only to be captured and put in a prison camp. If that prison was Camp Sumter at Andersonville (and for many it was), the horror had just begun. In its 13-month existence, between 13,000 and 15,000 prisoners at Andersonville died of starvation, polluted water, disease, being shot by guards or hanged by fellow prisoners.

Those who survived all that inhumanity were loaded onto a boat to take them home. Finally! They could breathe a bit easier. They were on their way home!

But nearly 1,800 died when the Sultana exploded, many ending up in a watery grave at the bottom of the Mississippi. A horrible tragedy, no matter what caused the boilers to explode.

I don’t think the story needs a conspiracy theory, do you?