“I live in the Driftless Region of northeast Iowa. The land here isn’t perhaps what you think of when you think of Iowa. Rather, it’s marked by coldwater streams that snake through steep ravines and valleys, and around limestone bluffs, before meeting the Upper Iowa River, which eventually dumps into the Mississippi. One of these streams runs close to my home, and when I’m feeling particularly sluggish—when I’ve slipped out of a character’s mental current and can’t seem to channel his/her voice convincingly, realistically—I start hiking through wooded hills until I’ve arrived at this particular stream, the one near my home. I slip my shirt and shoes off and submerge myself in the icy flow. I hold myself under for as long as I can bear it, which is usually no more than a few seconds. When I emerge, the world looks painted in neon and almost immediately my own thoughts start to run as clear as the waters that have just jolted me awake. There’s nothing spiritual or New Agey about this submerging. It’s simply the best way for me to reengage with myself about what’s most important: my characters.”
—Keith Lesmeister, author of We Could’ve Been Happy Here (MG Press, 2017)