Elephant Rock’s Amanda Hurley discusses the writing of The Art of Holding On and Letting Go with author Kristin Bartley Lenz. Learn more about Kristin at kristinbartleylenz.com.

Amanda Hurley: How did The Art of Holding On and Letting Go come to be?

Kristin Bartley Lenz: I moved from Michigan to Atlanta, Georgia, in my midtwenties and discovered a new world of outdoor enthusiasm in the mountains of Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina: hiking, backpacking, white-water kayaking, climbing. My husband and I followed the careers of well-known mountaineers, and one by one, each of these climbers died attempting epic summits. These were men with wives and children at home. Around the same time, a famous female mountaineer, Alison Hargreaves, died on K2, and she—unlike her male counterparts—was criticized for leaving her children behind. I began to wonder what it would be like to be the child of a famous mountaineer. How would that child’s upbringing be different? And what if both of her parents were extreme mountaineers, not just one? How would this shape her world?

AH: So these essential questions are triggered by a tragedy you observed. Then how soon after did you realize Cara would be the young hero to sort it all out?

KBL: I sat with these questions for several years and wrote a different novel based on my social work experience. That first novel hasn’t been published, but it was the practice I needed to understand how to write Cara’s story. An article in Outside magazine about families left behind by the deaths of mountaineers brought me back to those earlier questions, and Cara was born.

AH: You have several different locales for this tale: the mountains of Ecuador, the suburbs of Detroit, the wilderness of California. Why did you choose these settings for Cara’s story?

KBL: My husband and I lived in California for four years, and the Angeles National Forest was our rock climbing playground for the first year. I could clearly picture Cara and her family living there. I would love to go to Ecuador one day, but for this story I had to rely on research. I wanted Cara’s parents’ expedition to be somewhere other than the Himalayas. Everest has become overrun by commercial operations, and many of the truly dedicated mountaineers are seeking other remote mountains. Chimborazo is unique in that it rivals Everest in height because of its location at the bulging equator—just like Cara’s dad explains in the story. There really was a World Youth Championship near Quito several years ago, and around that same time I had friends who traveled to Ecuador. They took notes during their trip and shared photos and descriptions. And metro Detroit is my home. It’s where I grew up and where I eventually returned to raise my daughter. Through Cara’s story, I wanted to explore this idea of home and what it means to each of us.

AH: To quote the dust jacket copy—“discovering that home can be far from where you started.” This is the major theme of the novel. It resonated with the Sheehan judges and subsequent readers. My previous question was about place, but Cara learns that the idea of home transcends a physical place.

KBL: “Home is where the heart is” has become a cliché, but it only tells part of the story. Cara’s heart is in California, but it’s also in Michigan, and there’s a piece left behind in Ecuador too. Home can be what you make it, wherever and whenever you need it to be.

AH: Cara’s is a soul divided. Between the mountains and the city. Between her old life and new. Why did you structure the novel this way? What is it about Cara’s struggle that makes her story universal?

KBL: I wrote Cara’s story a few years after I moved from California back home to Michigan. I was struggling with this transition and the losses that came with it: I had left my job, friendships, and a beautiful climate with daily access to nature. I was a new mom, feeling isolated and uncertain in a new environment, trying to raise my daughter. My grandmother died suddenly. I think everyone can relate to this feeling of loss during times of transition. Children and teens especially experience so many transitions as a normal part of growing up: changing schools, changing friends, even their own changing bodies. Even if you haven’t yet experienced the loss of a loved one, I think everyone can connect in some way to Cara’s struggle.

AH: Cara relies heavily on the wisdom of nature writers. What is your connection to these writers and works? How do you think these works shape or mimic Cara’s journey?

KBL: I’m not sure when I first discovered some of these nature writers. A friend gave me one of Rick Bass’s books many years ago, and I’ve long been a fan of Barbara Kingsolver. But it was Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek that really made me want to incorporate these themes into a young adult novel. Dillard was influenced by Thoreau, and I stumbled upon an old copy of Walden at a used bookstore. When I refer to Walden in Cara’s story, it’s my own beat-up copy that I’m describing— the yellowed pages, the cover that’s held on with tape. These writings have been a respite during stressful or lonely times, especially when I’ve been unable to be out in nature myself. Many of these books are about seeking—either the author or her characters are looking for something, something they’ve lost or something they need to find—in order to heal, to feel complete, content. They’re a window into the peace and depth of wilderness. They’re about discovery and asking big questions. In this way, they were perfect guides for Cara.

AH: What importance does Cara’s back-to-nature journey have in our current environment of kids and teens who are glued to their iDevices?

KBL: I didn’t intend to write a book urging teens to unplug, but as the story developed, this theme emerged—how differently Cara’s worldview has been shaped by her immersion in nature rather than electronics. The powerful effects of nature on healing and learning are increasingly researched and reported, and I hope more kids and adults find slices of nature whenever they can, whether it’s a trip to a national park or a simple stroll through their neighborhood park.

AH: You chose to root a good portion of the story in the arena of competitive rock climbing.

KBL: I learned to rock climb on an outdoor cliff in Tennessee. Indoor rock climbing gyms existed but weren’t as popular as they are now. I never became a competitive climber, but I’ve climbed around the United States and in Europe.

AH: Was researching this aspect of Cara’s life difficult?

KBL: I had been immersed in the sport for many years when I wrote the first draft of this story, but I still needed to research the competition aspects. There are different types of competition climbing, levels, age groups, et cetera, and I simplified all of it for this story because ultimately Cara’s journey is about much more than climbing.

AH: The climbing sequences are incredibly vivid. The scene of Cara climbing under the viaduct is a personal favorite. Have you ever done that sort of urban climbing?

KBL: When you become a climber, you see the potential everywhere— brick buildings, stone walls. There have been times when I couldn’t resist reaching out and climbing on, but I’ve never sought out urban climbing beyond the climbing gym. It’s a popular movement that’s gaining momentum right now. It might seem at odds with traditional climbing in the wilderness, but urban climbing has its pluses—it brings accessibility and diversity to the sport.

AH: Did your background as a social worker inform your treatment of Cara’s coming of age?

KBL: I’ve always worked with children and teens as a social worker. When adults talk about teens, it’s often in disparaging or dismaying terms—how difficult they are and how parents have to suffer through these trying years. Yes, it’s a time of great growth and upheaval, which is challenging, but people tend to underestimate the resilience, capacity for empathy, and intellectual depth of teens. My own daughter and her friends amaze me on a regular basis, and I continue to be inspired by the teens I worked with as a social worker years ago.

AH: How does Kaitlyn’s journey of self-discovery mirror Cara’s? Did you mean for the two girls to be foils of each other?

KBL: I guess I did create Cara and Kaitlyn as opposites in many ways without putting a lot of thought into it initially—that came later through revision. I didn’t want Cara to easily fall in with athletic peers; she needed to learn from someone different from her. And she needed to take some actions rather than simply reacting to everything thrown at her. The most obvious action would have been running away back to California. But I’ve seen this in many other stories, and it would have been unrealistic for Cara. I decided that she needed to think outside of herself and help someone else. She could teach someone to climb, someone who would especially benefit from the mental and physical strength that climbing brings. Who would climbing be especially difficult for?

AH: Kaitlyn.

KBL: Exactly. A character who is missing fingers and has experienced a major rejection that knocked the confidence out of her.

AH: Were you trying to make a statement about femininity, feminism, and woman power in sports with the dichotomy of Cara and Becky?

KBL: I knew I wanted Cara to be a strong female protagonist, but Becky’s character didn’t get more fully developed until later drafts at the urging of my editor. I needed to ask myself what her purpose in the story was. For Becky, climbing is a trendy sport to be used for fame; she makes the most of her sexuality and physical allure to make a name for herself. It’s about how she looks, which is the message that girls are bombarded with from a young age. Cara doesn’t care how she looks getting up that wall, so long as she’s got the strength and stamina to do it. For her, climbing is about the challenge, the balance of strength and skill, finesse and focus, as well as being connected to nature and the greater world around her. But at the same time, she’s becoming more aware of her own evolving sexuality, beauty, and strength throughout the course of the novel.

AH: For me, Cara and Becky represent two different “ideals” of women in sports. I felt a little bad for Becky, almost like she’s resorted to this version of acceptance because her sexuality is what’s been touted to her as her biggest asset. Does having a daughter of your own bring this struggle of the “feminine ideal” to the forefront of your mind?

KBL: I had always hoped my daughter would find a sport to grow her strength and confidence. It didn’t turn out to be climbing, but she’s played soccer since she was five. The girls play aggressively, and in Michigan they’re often playing in challenging conditions: it’s cold, wet, muddy. (It’s great to see the US women’s soccer team using their power to fight for equal pay.) For some girls it could be music or robotics or the arts; however they succeed and find a way to express themselves. My hope for girls is that even though they’re exposed to all of those sexy images that surround us in the media, they’ll be able to focus on their strength and health and what’s right for them without trying to live up to unrealistic ideals.

AH: What was the revision process for The Art of Holding on and Letting Go?

KBL: This story was rewritten several times over several years. In the first draft, Cara’s parents died, and Uncle Max was later found. I brought the manuscript to the Highlights Foundation Whole Novel Workshop, where I worked with award-winning author Carolyn Coman. She suspected that I wanted to explore loss, not major grief, and asked me to consider keeping Cara’s parents alive. She was right, and I completely rewrote the story. The Ecuador section didn’t exist in the early drafts; the story started in Michigan, and the reader learned what had happened in flashbacks. I also experimented with different ways of telling the story and wrote one version with alternating past/present, Ecuador/Michigan chapters. After I won the Sheehan prize, and Elephant Rock acquired the novel, I spent four months of intensive revising with my editor, Jotham Burrello. He pushed me to look deeper, hear Cara’s voice, show emotions, add specific details, and cut lines and repetitive scenes that didn’t advance the story. Writing is something that you learn by doing. I am a slow learner. I wish my process went faster, but with each story, with each draft, I continue to grow as a writer.

AH: How’d you know it was capital D “Done”?

KBL: I don’t think it will ever be done! This story has lived with me for so many years, but at some point I had to trust that I’d shared enough of Cara’s journey for readers to understand and make it their own.