As I’ve mentioned, my husband and I used to live outside NYC in Westchester. Most of our trips into Manhattan began with a train ride into Grand Central Terminal. They ended the same way – with a train ride home. When I was writing the ending for Inland, I thought it was only fitting that the story end the same way it began – at Grand Central. I spent a lot of time at that station, taking notes and photos and choreographing movements for the story. I can’t step into Grand Central now without seeing my characters running through the halls. It makes me smile.
All train stations have moments of madness followed by moments of peace. The trains arrive and depart; the crowds come and go. The periods of calm are punctuated by storms of chaos. In the case of Grand Central, the storms are large and frantic, while the calm periods can be a bit eerie. Grand Central is vast and imposing and humbling. Maybe it’s the celestial ceiling, but one can’t help but feel small there – a single person out of hundreds of thousands to pass through the station on any given day, one star out of all those in the galaxy.
In Inland, the main character, Cat, begins her adventure in Grand Central. When the time comes, she decides that it must end there as well. In that station, Cat’s story plays out surrounded by strangers, all travelling through their own stories, and most of them never even take notice of Cat. This, to me, is the essence of Grand Central. In fact, it’s the essence of NYC. There are millions of people, millions of stories, all carrying on at the same time. Too many to count. Too many on which to focus your attention. Every once in a while, however, we see one – one person, one story – and it captures our attention.
I enjoyed writing Inland and learning about NYC, and I love the story’s characters (who still wander through my mind every once in a while). I realize my book, Inland, is one of millions in print, but I hope you’ll notice it, read it, share it. Most of all, I hope you enjoy the ride.
All train stations have moments of madness followed by moments of peace. The trains arrive and depart; the crowds come and go. The periods of calm are punctuated by storms of chaos. In the case of Grand Central, the storms are large and frantic, while the calm periods can be a bit eerie. Grand Central is vast and imposing and humbling. Maybe it’s the celestial ceiling, but one can’t help but feel small there – a single person out of hundreds of thousands to pass through the station on any given day, one star out of all those in the galaxy.
In Inland, the main character, Cat, begins her adventure in Grand Central. When the time comes, she decides that it must end there as well. In that station, Cat’s story plays out surrounded by strangers, all travelling through their own stories, and most of them never even take notice of Cat. This, to me, is the essence of Grand Central. In fact, it’s the essence of NYC. There are millions of people, millions of stories, all carrying on at the same time. Too many to count. Too many on which to focus your attention. Every once in a while, however, we see one – one person, one story – and it captures our attention.
I enjoyed writing Inland and learning about NYC, and I love the story’s characters (who still wander through my mind every once in a while). I realize my book, Inland, is one of millions in print, but I hope you’ll notice it, read it, share it. Most of all, I hope you enjoy the ride.
