What Dreams May Come (“The Second Star”, birth of a novel)

Today is my birthday. Four days ago, my new novel was “born”. This is the closest I’ve ever come to sharing a birthday with a book of mine – so let me tell you a little about this one, and how it came about.

It started, as my stories often do, with a dream. Sort of.

In the mornings, when I report on my often rich and lush and complex dreams, my husband has been heard to mutter “That’s a STORY.” In fact, some of these dreams have been kneaded, baked, made into publishable short stories – or even novels.. A number of times I’ve ‘serial dreamed’ something longer – a story that starts on one night, finds itself too long and complicated to conclude in one sitting, breaks at a convenient point, and picks up where it left off when next my sleeping brain flips that switch. At least one of these dreams actually woke me up out of a sound sleep and sent me off to a computer keyboard, bleary-eyed and only half awake and barely coherent, to type furiously because the story would not be silenced for another minute.

And then there are the fragments, the stuff that washes up tantalizingly as flotsam and jetsam on the shores of coming awake just as the dream peels away and most of the substance of it is lost.

One such fragment lay glittering on that shore one morning – a single sentence – completely unattached to anything else: ‘A SOUL IS LIKE A STARFISH.’

I didn’t know much more about it at that moment except the nebulous idea behind it – the fact that if you ripped a leg off a starfish it would regenerate a new one. But would a severed starfish leg regenerate a whole another starfish? That would be COOL. Anyway, what’s this soul idea and how does it connect…?

I talked it out. The underlying idea behind this concept seemed to be rooted in the realm of what was once popularly known as multiple personalities.

Now called ‘dissociative identity disorder’, it is characterized by a person’s core identity fragmenting into two or more – sometimes a LOT more – distinct personality states. It usually involves individuals who have been the victims of severe abuse, particularly when they were very young. It’s a defensive mechanism which offers a way of surviving the unsurvivable.

It has always been an interesting study, because so much of what happens in the human mind is still a matter of conjecture and our best guess. But this was the underlying basis of the story that was being shaped here. This was the first piece of grit in the story oyster, the first thin layer of story nacre around it. However… my personalities did not arise out of an abuse situation.

In my story, as I quickly found out, I had six crewmembers of the Earth’s first starship who had set out on their journey to the stars. The starship was lost for nearly two centuries. When the ship was discovered again and brought home, the crew were not only still alive, they were only a handful of years older than they had been when they set out because of quantum physics shenanigans.

But the biggest problem was, as one of my characters put it, that “…six people set out. More than seventy returned.”

SOMETHING HAPPENED out there. Something bad enough to literally fracture six sane human beings, professionals at their jobs, educated, stable, grounded, into psychological smithereens.

The next layer of nacre kicked in. The fracturing event… was devastating to the six crewmembers. But they were also holding a deeper secret, one that they were desperate to protect… and it was something that the team sent to work with them, psychologist Stella Froud and Jesuit priest Father Philip Carter, began to uncover, piece by piece. The more they found out the more peril everyone was in.

The third layer of nacre finally gave me my title, and the shattering center to the story (and no, sweetie, SPOILERS, you’ll have to read the book for that…).

All of this took several days, discussions in which I would constantly sit up wide-eyed and say to my long-suffering husband, “But WHAT IF…” and we’d be off to the races again, down twisty corridors and barely skidding on ledges before going off a cliff, with the characters who stepped up to populate this story becoming ever more complex, more real, more human, and more… many other things.

This ended up being a book about star voyages. About going away, and coming home again (and whether that is even really ever possible). About what hides inside people. About what people are willing to believe, and to endure for the sake of that belief. About friendship. About honor. About love. About compassion. About triumph and tragedy. About choices.

And over and above it all, now deep inside that pearl, there was that sentence of flotsam, lying on the edge of deep waters, glittering in the morning light: A SOUL IS LIKE A STARFISH.

I didn’t know what it meant, not really, when I picked it up and tried to understand.

But I do now.

And if you pick up “The Second Star…” so will you.

Follow me, into dream country. Let’s walk together under the stars, and see what dreams may come.

 

Read a snippet, 

or

buy it here

Oh, and PS – i started a new novel a week ago.

I wrote a 3000-word prologue in one sitting, and I’m going to be putting that up, together with further commentary, writing craft notes and further progress on the novel, on my Patreon page – consider following along?

 

 

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What Dreams May Come (“The Second Star”, birth of a novel) — 4 Comments