This is Blake's Cardboard Piano...
He lent it to me when I visited the Poughkeepsie station. I still have it in my possession because he wanted the readers to sign it, show it some love.
Back in the day, when I first wrote Poughkeepsie, the image of a handsome man playing a piece of cardboard like a piano captured me.
As the story developed, the cardboard piano even developed its own back story. It was also one of the hardest chapters I ever wrote. (And Mouse's chapter, of course.)
I still remember writing with tears rolling down my face when Blake made a huge decision involving the piano.
So when I was arranging pictures for the book's trailer, I tried and tried to find an image of a keyboard sketched on cardboard. Finally, I broke down and drew it myself. I was at my in-law's house and my husband and I were going to stop at the Poughkeepsie station for some pictures. I went down to my in-law's basement and found a fairly beat up cardboard box. I ripped off a piece, grabbed a Sharpie, and went to town. I sucked at it. I went downstairs and tore at that poor box again and handed the marker to my husband.
"You need to draw this. Pretend to be a teenager. And write manly." He did a good job (he always writes manly- I was just busting his chops.) Then I spent a few minutes adding age to it by sandpapering warn spots on the cardboard, imagining Blake's repetitive touch at the station. Then I rolled and unrolled it a million times.
Next, it was time for the piano's photo shoot. It was a liquid hot day in New York. (We come visiting up from Maryland twice a year.) My husband was the photographer and I was in charge of the model. To get the shots I wanted, I found myself crawling over metal guardrails that had been baking all day. I could almost hear my pale, wimpy skin sizzling.
We took some dumb pictures and we took some that worked.
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