Despite having a head full of fireworks, I’m a plotter and planner at my core. I plan meals in advance, vacations and, now-a-days, my book plots. Over the decades, I’ve learned to be flexible, knowing that stuff happens – crosswinds that hit just as I’m ready to defrost a brisket – grandkids who catch colds, a spontaneous dinner invitation with old friends, a snowstorm, and even the Grand Dame of all, Covid.

But, when it comes to my books and writing deadlines, I’ve tried harder than ever to be economical with my time, fastidiously researching, planning the plot, chapter contents, and so forth. But plan as I do, my scheming characters always seem to have one up on me. My fingers, determined to type a specific dialogue, detach from my brain and begin typing different words, taking my careful story in new directions. “No, not that!” I yell at the computer.

It answers back, “Just give it a try. It’s better this way, I promise.”

And despite my frustration, I give the new twist a try. And that oppositional story turns out better than what I’d planned in the first place.

That’s how I stumbled upon a New York hospital that opened and closed in the span of twenty years. While writing In the Hands of Women, I knew I needed another hospital in Lower Manhattan (the Jew Hospital, I kid you not, had moved uptown and morphed into Mount Sinai before the Civil War) to make the story work. The tidal wave of immigration, medical advances with reliable anesthesia and the economics of the time took me there. But in writing historical fiction, I wanted to ensure everything was reasonably accurate. So I scoured the internet, hoping to find something I could use in the context of my plot. To my great delight, I discovered a hospital in Lower Manhattan that opened for only twenty years, then vanished. Eureka! The Jewish Maternity Hospital was built by Polish Jewish immigrants to meet the explosive needs of their congregation. It opened in 1909, only to be bought twenty years later by Beth Israel Hospital during the Great Depression. Afterward, it was converted into a retirement home for rabbis – 100 rabbis in all. How’s that for serendipity? And, as far as the story? Perfect!

Wait to you see what else these little fingers have come up with!