Bridge to a Distant Star

by Carolyn Williford

  A Conversation with Carolyn Williford

  On inspiration

  I’m often asked, “Where does your inspiration for a story come from?” and the answer is never a simple one. I can somewhat understand why the Greeks imagined a muse who delivered inspiration, for the creative elements of a story are always a bit indescribable—where core ideas and tangents and characters originate. We can’t attribute that to the Holy Spirit, so does it come from one’s subconscious? Submerged memories? The creative centers of the brain? I honestly have no idea, but I do know this from experience: It feels a tad mystical and wondrous. And it’s tremendously fun and exciting when a muse “visits” me.

  For example, when I first finished writing the prologue I had no idea who would survive the tragedy—and who would not. I felt a sense of intense anticipation, actually, as I watched the story take on a life of its own, eventually informing me who the survivors were.

  Later my wonderful editor would have a say in that too. Ah, the jolt back to real life!

  Source for themes

  My themes for writing fiction and nonfiction generally come from my personal devotions. When I was studying the verse in Matthew 16:24—“Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me,’”—I recall thinking that there were those with such poor self-esteem that they hadn’t ever had a real “self” to deny and offer sacrificially to God. And then I thought of my own struggles—the times I’ve been so ill that I literally couldn’t do anything to serve him, and how unworthy I felt as a result. Could I view myself as acceptable when all I could offer my God was a weak woman, in pain, lying on the couch? Clearly my own issues of being versus doing fueled my desire to explore those themes more in depth through the power of story. The parallel structure of the verse itself led me to think about a novel with three distinct yet intertwining stories.

  The classic novel The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder provided the pattern for a plot line, a guide for a modern-day tragedy. Though not often read in classrooms today (Wilder’s better known for the inspiring Our Town), this engaging story of a bridge’s collapse in Peru, the people who perished there, and the parallels in their pasts made a strong impact on me as a teen. If you haven’t read it, you may want to do so to make your own comparisons with Bridge to a Distant Star.

  The true story behind Bridge to a Distant Star

  The last piece of the puzzle—what modern-day tragedy to use?—was quickly put into place with my fairly vivid memories of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge and the disaster of 1980. My parents lived in St. Petersburg for a number of years, and before they moved from Ohio, we vacationed on Treasure Island, which is just across the bay from St. Pete. So I had visited the area and traveled across the beautiful Skyway on numerous occasions, and when you’ve actually been to a place that later witnesses some sort of horrific tragedy, it’s suddenly more personal, isn’t it? Add to that the artistic shape of the Skyway itself; its inherent personality and style make it the perfect setting for a dramatic story.

  If you Google Tampa Bay Skyway Bridge, you’ll find articles on the day the bridge fell, including fascinating personal eyewitness accounts and pictures. In the real life disaster, sadly, there was only one survivor, and that was because his vehicle fell onto the freighter’s bow before rolling into the water. (In The Bridge of San Luis Rey, no one survives the bridge’s collapse. So though you may judge me harshly for having so many characters die, my story does allow for the greatest number of survivors!) Since my characters’ vehicles fall directly into the water below, clearly no natural means would explain how Fran, Michal, and Aubrey survived. Thus my miraculous explanation: Aubrey’s insistence on an angel. Literary license is a wonderful invention!

  I also Googled, researched, and studied the physical form of the bridge itself (as a memory refresher, I located pictures of a drive onto and across the bridge), freighters and shipmates’ vocabularies, and the transcript of the actual Mayday conversation between Captain Lerro (the freighter’s pilot) and the Coast Guard. The more I read and viewed online, the more the event vividly replayed in my mind’s eye. And the more I could picture this disaster happening to my cast of characters: Captain Luis; Maureen and Aubrey; Fran, Charles, and Charlie; and Michal.

  One last comment on the tragedy and its consequences: I can’t speak for all authors of fiction, but I would think it to be true of most storytellers that our characters become real people to us. After spending so much time with them, getting to know them intimately—what’s in character for them to do and what’s not—thinking as they do, putting myself in their shoes, so to speak, they become living, breathing individuals. To then have a character die is … nearly like losing a friend. I do hope my muse will allow all my beloved characters to live in my next novel.

  He can take the villains as he pleases.

  More Googling …

  I also did extensive research on Ethiopian history, topography, and culture; metastasized osteosarcoma and its diagnosis and treatment; limb salvage surgery versus amputation with prosthetic devices; and soccer rules for youth leagues. For my first historical novel Jordan’s Bend, I spent untold hours at several libraries, even traveling from Ohio to North Carolina to visit a library that had specific books I needed. For this novel I merely remained at my desk, continually going online to enter the endless resources on the Internet. Today’s technology—what a wonderful gift in relation to the difference in time, energy, and available materials!

  The idea for using averted vision must’ve come from my reading (I am always reading a book, and generally it’s a novel; I can get almost panicky if I’m about to finish a book and don’t have another waiting to begin immediately), but since I read so many books, I can’t recall where I came across that fascinating anomaly. However, I remember feeling exactly that: fascination, and then a determination to weave the scientific phenomenon into all three story lines with a slightly different twist in perspective for each one. Adding the averted vision symbolism was like sprinkling fresh basil into my homemade pasta sauce: It’s not absolutely necessary, but it would be bland without it. And that indefinable “something” would be missing.

  Pulling from memories

  I am a lifelong lover of beaches, particularly those on the Gulf Coast of Florida. Some of my earliest memories are of family vacations spent on the beautiful white sand beaches of Treasure Island where we collected shells (I still have jars full), body surfed the waves (with the scars to prove it), walked the boardwalk of St. John’s Pass to view the catches of the day (unforgettable pictures of an impressive hammer head shark), and the feel and smell of caressing, salty breezes—which I can conjure up just about anywhere by simply closing my eyes and concentrating. As rich as the Internet is, it hasn’t yet allowed my senses to feel the sun on my face … or taste the saltiness of the Gulf. Those I must pull from my memories—or experience once again.

  My next novel, like Jordan’s Bend, takes place mostly in the hills of Tennessee. I think I can already smell the honeysuckle … I can feel the just-picked, juicy blackberries I cradle in my hands … I can almost taste the skillet-fried cornbread, fresh from the oven. But I believe I need to experience it all firsthand again, don’t you?

  After all, your vicarious experience through my story is at stake.

  A Final Note from Carolyn

  On December 23, 2010, one of the brightest lights in my life went out.

  I’ve often spoken about my fierce love for my three guys: my husband, Craig, and our wonderful sons, Robb and Jay. For a woman who expected to be the mom of girls, with their frills and dolls, I was surprised when God blessed us with boys—and the accompanying bats and balls, cars and trucks and trains, and military paraphernalia everywhere. But what joy I discovered in that all-male atmosphere, for I was treated like a queen. And oh, how I adored my guys, through every season of life, through ev
ery stage of life. And now … now I must learn how to live without knowing Robb’s tender care (Need something? Need anything fixed? Robb would be there in a heartbeat), without hearing his laughter (I can still hear it in my head, but how I wish I could hear it for real), without watching him love his wife and play with his sons (Tricia, Tucker, and Tyler, he loved you dearly, and I loved watching him love you), without listening to him share his heart with Craig and me—his compassion compelling him to serve his Lord and Savior.

  Robb needed emergency surgery to remove a ruptured spleen when he was a teenager. During his recovery, the nurses told us the first thing he uttered when regaining consciousness was “Where am I, God?” I believe that was a picture of Robb’s faith: He trusted God, and trusted in God, knowing he was ever in God’s care.

  I have complete assurance that Robb is resting in God’s care right now, and yes, that is so very comforting to me. But there is now a painful hole in my heart, and I will miss my sweet son until the day I draw my last breath.

  I miss you, Sweetie.

  TNT: How you were pushing Dad to get me a new high-tech cell phone …

  Love from Mom, forever

  www.DavidCCook.com