The story of The First Kid on Mars, for reasons I still don't fully understand, begins with a book mix-up. Abby has brought her "most important and favorite book, a very old book of stories called Winnie-the-Pooh," handed down from her great-grandmother.
It turns out (first chapter spoiler alert!) her best friend Zamara has brought the same book, handed down from her bisabuela. Confusion reigns, and Abby ends up accidentally taking both books with her to Mars. That turns out to be a really important mistake, but explaining that here would give away too much.
Also, I haven't figured it all out yet.
From the beginning, I've kept my most important and favorite copy nearby, stuffed with post-it notes marking lines or moments that inspire me and inform my story. If you're looking for it, you'll find phrases and echoes from the Hundred Acre Wood throughout The First Kid on Mars.
It mostly lived on my desk in Chicago, ready when needed to help guide me. A few months later, and a few chapters later, I packed up the car and drove the family to Maine for the summer; my parents have a house on the coast, and let me tell you - if you have the opportunity to spend a summer on the coast of Maine you should definitely do that.
I set up a writing room for myself by a window with a water view, and got back to work. Immediately, I realized something horrible: I had left Winnie-the-Pooh back in Chicago.
I looked everywhere, hoping I was wrong. I wasn't.
Or was I? There it was, on a nightstand in a guest bedroom. Wasn't that it? What happened to my notes?
Here's what I wrote back in chapter one:
She looked at the book in her hand, and then back at the book in her pack again. They looked almost exactly the same. The same faded green color, the same drawing of a bear and a small pig walking away on the front, the same stories inside.
So I kept the "almost exactly the same" book with me while I wrote in Maine.
And I thought about the weird ways the universe tells you you're on the right path.
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