And that’s how I came to be writing two books about war at the same time: A SAVAGE THUNDER: Antietam and the Bloody Road to Freedom and TRUCE: The Day the Soldiers Stopped Fighting.

I began with a simple mission — to write books that were honest, informative and dramatically involving, and largely focused on the experiences and emotions of those who were actually in these conflicts. In other words, I wanted to avoid doing the sort of histories I grew up reading, what I call “my father’s history”: fact laden, formal texts that talked almost solely about important individuals making important decisions, discussed battles as if they were well-mannered chess matches, and, in effect, said that the politicians and commanding generals (for our side, of course) did what was best for the country and its soldiers.

An immediate concern was how to sift through the enormous amount of information available on the Civil War and WWI and choose what to include. I began by reminding myself often of the concept of historical contingency (sometimes simply called contingency), an idea I’ve used since writing THE LONG ROAD TO GETTYSBURG (1992). Historical contingency is a way to look at how history comes about. It suggests that the notable events in history are usually not the result of a single individual making a momentous decision. Instead, history is made by a wide range of often random factors including good and bad luck, mistakes and strange coincidences, well thought out decisions and others that are impulsive and inexplicable, all of which involve a wide variety of individuals, from the mightiest to the most common.

Using historical contingency forces me to look at the big and small turning points leading up to a particular event which in turn helps put the focus on the people involved. (An interesting additional bonus is that this approach creates a natural story line, a step by step journey that builds drama and involves readers.) Anything and everything can come into play, though people are always at the center. The Battle of Antietam had its origins in the nasty interactions between Abraham Lincoln and one of his commanding generals, George McClellan, and because Confederate General Robert E. Lee had little respect for McClellan as a fighting general. World War I was pushed forward by the way Germany’s paranoid Kaiser Wilhelm I prodded the aging and indecisive leader of Austria to confront more directly his neighbors.

Holding a magnifying glass to history like this often turns up even more personal, yet still vital human moments. Antietam took place because an obscure Union corporal wandered off the road to rest and discovered Special Order 191, Robert E. Lee’s instructions to go against accepted military practice and divide his army into three parts. World War I was set in motion (needlessly as even Wilhelm admitted at the time) because Wilhelm failed to read important state documents until it was too late.

All of these moments give readers a context for the unfolding events, but it’s following the participants into battle that pulls readers deeper and deeper into the situation. Their personal recollections, spare but beautifully written and sometimes scribbled during the chaos of battle, are at the heart of understanding real combat and its terrible consequences. Union Private Johnathan Stowe was severely wounded at Antietam and unable to move, but managed to add a few last words in his pocket diary: “Battle Oh horrid battle. What sights I have seen. I am wounded! And am afraid shall be again as shells fly past me every few seconds carrying away limbs from the trees….” Or what a British private felt as he charged headlong across No Man’s Land to assault a line of deadly German machine-guns: “I moved past the stumps of trees, past other things; men passed by me, carrying other men, some crying, some cursing, some silent. They were all shadows, and I was no greater than they. Living and dead, all were alike….”

Writing about war — by letting readers march into the fighting shoulder to shoulder with the soldiers and officers who were actually there — provides a palpable and emotionally memorable substitute for the real experience. It also offers the kinds of vivid images that will never leave the minds of the readers.

It’s important to add here that some battles and wars, as horrible as they might be, do change the world in positive ways. Antietam was enough of a victory that it allowed Abraham Lincoln to issue the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing over four and a half million men, women, and children from the bonds of slavery. The long term effects of other wars are often much more debatable. Did the deaths of over eight million soldiers and six and a half million civilians during WWI accomplish anything that honest and sincere negotiations couldn’t have? Showing combat in a realistic, but hopefully not ghoulish way puts these results in high relief, lets readers look at them in a stark, bright light and, I would argue, lets them see how truly miraculous an event like the massive Christmas Truce of 1914 really was.

So there I was last Wednesday night waiting like everyone else for the big blizzard to strike when an e-mail arrived. Evidently, someone at ABC news had seen that I’d written BLIZZARD! The Storm That Changed America and wanted to interview me. I was surprised and happy to see that a ten-year-old book could still be noticed and immediately e-mailed that I’d be happy to do it. Which was when I found out it would be done live at 2:15AM!

Well, okay, I’d said yes. I stayed up in my little office, listening to the rest of the house peacefully sleeping, watching the snow falling outside my window, and waiting patiently (if sleepily) for the phone to ring. It did, of course, and after patching me into this feed, doing an audio test, and being transferred here and there, I was ready to go. Or rather, wait. I sat there, phone to my ear, listening as their show ran live — from the Central Park skating rink, from someplace in Queens with icy road conditions, from the studio where the anchors chatted — and the seconds ticked down to me. Next thing I know I’m on and talking away about the Blizzard of 1888, what sort of changes took place in New York City as a result of that storm, how weather was reported back then…all in four minutes flat. Then I was off and ABC sprinted on with other breaking stories.

The experience was exhilarating and fun in a breathless sort of way and even before I was awake in the morning another request came for an interview, this time for a local New York area station. They’d seen the the interview. And then a newspaper reporter called. Amazing. I wondered how many other calls I might have gotten if the storm went on for days (as the 1888 storm did). But it became clear that the 2010 snow would end quietly in the late afternoon without ever becoming a real blizzard and that my career as Blizzard Boy for a Day would, too. But it was a beautiful snowfall while it lasted.

Me! Can you believe it?  Well, I still can’t…

There I was a couple of Saturdays ago, getting ready to meet friends and take in a football game or two.  Alison was trying to wake up our 14 year old son Ben, who was grumbling — loudly I might add — about evil parents and the horror of having to get up before the crack of noon, etc.  Our big, hairy dog Cody got caught up in this little wake-up drama and started jumping around and barking wildly (and sneezing; he does that when he gets jazzed up).  Then the phone rang.

Normally, I would ignore the ringing and let someone else answer the phone.  Why?  Because the likelihood is that the call isn’t for me.  I mean, even Cody gets more calls than I do.  But with the loud grumbling and Cody’s barking/sneezing, I was the only one who heard the phone.

“Hello,” a woman said when I picked up. “Is this Jim Murphy?”

I don’t know about other writers, but when someone on the phone asks that question, I always wonder if I owe anyone money.  But this turned out to be about something else entirely.  The woman was Maren C. Ostergard, who is from the King County Library System in the great state of Washington and more importantly (for me, that is) the Chair of the ALA Margaret A. Edwards Award committee.   And she was on the phone with her committee to tell me that I’d won the award!

Maren then went on to explain that the committee had singled out five of my books (An American Plague, Blizzard, The Great Fire, The Long Road to Gettysburg, and A Young Patriot) to “recognize an author’s work in helping adolescents become aware of themselves and addressing questions about their role and importance in relationships, society, and in the world.”  Now that’s pretty cool, but then she added that I’d made a “significant and lasting contribution to young adult literature.”

Mind you, even though I was hearing all this through a background of loud, grumbling boy and barking/sneezing dog, I still managed to feel humbled (Maren mentioned the names of some of the past winners of the award) and excited.  Then another committee member (who did not identify herself) called out, “And you’re the first nonfiction person to ever receive the award!”  Wow, I’m a first! 

Of course, as gratifying as any award is, most of us aren’t writing to win them.  We write because we want to communicate with young readers, to share information and insights into subjects that fascinate us, and maybe, if we do our jobs right, to touch their minds and hearts in a lasting way.  But being recognized with an award is certainly a wonderful way to put the icing on the cake.  So my heartfelt thanks go out to Maren and her committee.  Oh, and Cody sends an appreciative bark/sneeze your way, too.       

The year is only a handful of days old and I’m already feeling the weight and pressure of having a blog. It’s like having a large, annoyed plant in the basement that’s always bellowing out, “Feed me! Feeeeeed Meee!!!!” Some folk seem to nourish their blogs easily and often, and even manage to do it without an embarrassing amount of self-promotion. Take a look at Betsy Bird’s A Fuse #8 Production over on the School Library Journal site for a prime example of a smart, funny, informative, and generous discussion of books for young readers and the book world in general (and much more besides). When I grow up I hope to have a blog like that.

But for now I’m stuck here with this nasty plant wondering what to write about? At first I thought it might be fun to write about what some are calling the “new nonfiction” for young readers (I’ve also heard it referred to as “passionate nonfiction”). Aside from the fact that anytime someone proclaims something “new and improved” I smell a patent medicine salesman at work, I saw a number of misleading implications bandied about during these discussions and some potential problems in leading nonfiction readers, reviewers, and writers down this road. But then I remembered that 2009 was a great year for nonfiction for young readers and that I had been a part of it, albeit in a small part, with the publications of A SAVAGE THUNDER and TRUCE. Best to put the past aside (for now) and look forward to what the year holds.

So what do the days and months ahead have in store? My wife, Alison, and I are finishing up a revision of an as yet untitled book about tuberculosis, a history of a killer disease that just won’t go away. Sounds nasty, right? Well, get use to it since just about everything that ails you disease-wise follows the same pattern and kids should know it! I’ll also be completing a text about the Boston Massacre, the incident (some say a staged incident) that provided just the right propaganda to push the colonies into open rebellion. And sitting on my desk right here are the first pass pages for THE CROSSING, a look at how badly George Washington handled the opening months of the war as Commander of the Continental Army and how close we came to losing the revolution. Which wouldn’t have been all that bad in my opinion considering how delightfully charming British accents are. That’s about enough shameless promotion (for now).

The other venture I’m a part of is a videoconferencing company called INK Think Tank, which was started by author Vicki Cobb and a number of other nonfiction authors. I’m just a hired hand (and so new I don’t yet appear on the official website roster: www.inkthinktank.com), but I’m excited about the potential to “visit” schools around the country from my comfy office. The first hurdle, of course, is getting all the equipment up and running, but that’s the challenge and excitement of a new year, right?

Ooops, there it goes again with its “FEED ME!” I’ll save my good news of the week for my next feeding and instead try to figure out how to post this before I become its next snack. Later.

And yet in the middle of all this darkness I’ve decided to launch my blog.  Why, you might ask.  In part to stay in touch with the outside world.   I work away in a small, bursting at the seams office on the third floor of a big, old house in Maplewood, New Jersey, and often don’t communicate with colleagues and editors for days, even weeks at a time.  But mostly I want to talk about the many facets of fashioning nonfiction for young people—the challenges and frustrations, the unexpected revelations and amazing highs the process can bring — and to create a dialogue with others who are involved and fascinated by it.  And I want to celebrate the nonfiction world we inhabit (and anyone who’s read Phillip Hoose’s marvelous Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice knows there’s a lot to celebrate) .  I have a decidedly “glass half full” outlook on life and think it’s important to enter the new year and decade with a positive, everything is possible head of steam.  Besides, the Winter Solstice is already behind us and daylight is embracing us more and more every day.  What’s not to celebrate?