Searching for Maurice: My Groundhog Story
People seem to have strong feelings about groundhogs.
The only feeling I had was that I WANTED TO SEE ONE!
I wanted to see one—and I kind of needed to. A groundhog (AKA woodchuck, whistle-pig, land beaver,) plays a part in the novel I’m working on.
Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to be transfixed by a groundhog’s fears and desires.
This book is for kids, ages 8-12. Maurice, the groundhog, isn’t the star of the novel, but as Chair of the Animal Council, he sends Penelope, my 10-year-old human protagonist, on a journey she’d rather ditch, given that she wants to lose her reputation as a liar, not make it worse. To make the story believable (at least to readers who want to believe it) I needed to know how groundhogs move, talk, breathe, sit, and eat. Sure, I could watch videos online. But wouldn’t it be better to see one in person?
I used to see them all the time, twenty-some years ago. When my children were little, I’d spot them every Tuesday and Thursday evenings, as I was driving back and forth to Clemson for graduate school. They’d stand up straight in the grassy shoulder of Highway 123 like they were waiting for a Tiger Transit bus to stop and give them a ride to Herbology class. But it’s been a while since then.
I was sure the groundhog of my dreams would show up last week at my writing retreat in Pennsylvania. After all, I was at the Highlights Foundation, a retreat center in Milanville, a small rural town in the northern part of the state, with a wooded campus so crawling with deer and rabbits (and groundhogs, supposedly,) that you might suspect Highlights paid the animals to hang out near the cabins. It’d kind of fit. If you want to write or illustrate books for kids, Highlights is the place to go. People go there all year long to work independently or attend workshops led by well-known kid lit authors. That’s where I met some favorite writers of mine the summer of 2022: the six other women in my writing group.
Nearly every Tuesday night since then, we meet on Zoom for an hour, to read each other’s work, to listen, offer thoughts, and cheer each other on. I love and treasure these ladies. They understand me. Even my need to meet a groundhog.
As my week at Highlights progressed, I kept watching and searching and waiting.
I went on hikes. I took my laptop to the porch, and scanned the horizon every other paragraph. I walked by the chef’s garden more times than necessary. I wandered around fields of wildflowers, alongside the creek, beside the art studio. No groundhog.
Several of the women in my writing group had seen at least one—and they weren’t even looking! Why couldn’t I?
Forget it, I told myself. I watched videos. I moved on.
The week was GREAT! The women gave me really helpful feedback and I attacked my second draft like a hungry…groundhog! We laughed, we cried, and we got a lot of work done. I’m so excited about their novels! And I’m excited about mine!
And my trip wasn’t even over yet! I had planned to take an extra day for a little field trip to Amherst, Massachusetts to visit the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. Yes, it’d mean more driving, but it was just four hours away. When I told the ladies about my plans, my friend Dawn asked if I’d tour Emily Dickinson’s house while I was there.
EMILY DICKINSON’S HOUSE IS IN AMHERST TOO?
YES! I WILL TOUR IT!
And so I did. Well, kind of. The tour was sold out, but it was still worth the stop. After listening to four hours of podcasts on Emily Dickinson, I LOVED walking around her house, seeing the gardens, reading her poetry right where she wrote it.
I thought I was finished. I thought I’d enjoyed all that Emily had to offer me, so I walked back to the mostly empty large parking lot where I’d left my car, enjoying the weather the locals were complaining about. (82 degrees with 70% humidity! The horror! Ha ha.)
I opened my car door, tossed in my purse, and heard a strange, scratching noise.
I turned around to find A HUGE AMOEBA-LOOKING BAG OF FUR ON THE ASPHALT BEHIND ME, GALLOPING DIAGONALLY ACROSS THE ENTIRE PARKING LOT!
GROUNDHOG OF MY DREAMS! YOU CAME TO ME!
I was so excited, so beside myself, that I called out to an old couple walking across the parking lot, “DID YOU SEE THAT?!!”
The man shrugged. “It’s a groundhog,” he said.
It was.
So, friends, If my book ever gets published, and you ever get the chance to stop by Emily’s house in Amhurst, Massachusetts, take a short jaunt over to the parking lot on Dickinson Street. Keep an eye out for an alarmingly large groundhog. Tell Maurice that I said hi.
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