The inspiration for Lions and Tigers and Boys

I’m not one hundred percent sure when I came up with the idea for Lions and Tigers and Boys, but I know where. At the Cirque du Soleil show Amaluna. I love Cirque. I have seen three shows and go every time a new one comes to my city. I’m fascinated by the artistry and blown away by the acrobatics. Every show transports me somewhere new. It was at this show that I started to think What If. What if there was magic involved in their performances. What if there were animals involved. What would that look like. It just developed from there. Since that show, I read up on and watched everything I could about Cirque. My daughter was a huge help with research, unknowingly, as she at one point had her heart set on going to the National Circus School in Montreal. So, I did a lot of research into the school. And she even attended a Cirque dance camp one summer and got to experience some of the apparatus, like silks, and balancing and juggling. It was a very cool experience for her, and for me. During that time, I came to realize how difficult it is to get into the school, and the level of acrobatics and balance and athleticism that is needed to even get a foot in the door. So hard. Only a rare few get in. Which is why in my book, my heroine, suffers such a huge disappointment when the National Circus School rejects her application. This causes her to lose a lot of her confidence in her abilities and in herself, which she learns to deal with and overcome at the Oswald Zinzendorf School of Circus Arts. With a little help, of course, in the form of one beautiful boy named Cai Coppersmith.

I spread my legs into a straddle and flattened my torso onto the floor. This was one of my favorite stretches, as it really worked on the lower back. I was rewarded with a whole bunch of snapping and popping sounds when my spine repositioned. As I turned my head slightly to the left, I saw Cai walk into the studio. My belly instantly flip-flopped.

He wore a form-fitting dark blue tank top and baggy knee length shorts. He wasn’t football player big, but he was strong-looking with wide shoulders and trim arms that were cut sharp with muscles. He looked lean but powerful, and I imagined he could do a one armed push-up with little difficulty. He looked a bit like Eddie Redmayne, but with fewer freckles and redder, wilder hair.

His gaze flicked to me briefly, then he strode across the floor and found a spot to toss his bag on the opposite side from where I was. I tried not to make a big deal out of it. He was just sitting with the other sophomores. It wasn’t like he was avoiding me altogether.

I sat up and tried to catch his gaze, but he was talking with the boy stretching next to him. It was probably a good thing, because I needed to focus. I didn’t come to this school to chase a boy. I came to be the best high-wire act the world had ever seen. I came to make my mother proud.

Suddenly the lights flickered overhead. We all looked up to the ceiling to see our instructor Miss Gisele balancing on one of the high wires. She smiled and waved. “Bonjour mes beautés.”

She walked easily across the wire, and it hardly even moved. She then stopped, bent backward, and did a walkover. When she was upright again, she went onto her toes and did a pirouette. I gaped in awe. After another wave, she let herself drop from the wire and landed in the net beneath it.

She was weightless. Like a fairy dancing on a flower petal. That’s what I wanted to do, what I wanted to be.

“Welcome to OZ,” she said, her voice thickly accented. We all got to our feet. “In my class, you will learn to find balance. Not only here,” she held out her arms to her sides, “but in here.”

She tapped her head, then her heart, then her stomach.