Down the Forest Path: In Sunlight and in Shadow
Inspiration for The Shadow Bird
Published on 9 August 2020 by www.booksbywomen.org
I’ve heard some writers say that story ideas hit them like a bolt of lightning. Others describe how an enticing idea came to them slowly over time, like bits and pieces of a puzzle to be solved. A character here, an important image there, as they built up the story from the first scene to an exciting and satisfying conclusion.
In the run-up to the publication of my debut novel, The Shadow Bird, I’ve often been asked about the inspiration behind the story, or what compelled me to write about two people – a psychiatrist and her patient – who inhabit opposite sides of a seemingly impenetrable divide. Because the main character is a psychiatrist, and I explore themes of mental illness and criminal responsibility, some people have imagined I might be a psychiatrist myself, or perhaps a specialist in the field.
Although I’ve had a life-long interest in psychiatry, and the mind vs. brain conundrum, I have no special qualifications in that area, unless you count a persistent curiosity and tireless energy to explore what makes people tick.
For me, every story begins with a particular character, usually one who stalks my imagination and won’t leave me in peace until I agree to tell their tale. The Shadow Bird was no different. The germ of the premise began with a vision I had while out walking in the forest. As the sunlight streamed through the heavy boughs and pine needles crackled underfoot, a picture of a dark-haired woman appeared in my head.
I had no idea who she was, or where she came from. But there she emerged, sitting in a bare room next to the bed of an unconscious girl, desperately hoping she’ll wake up. In that first glimpse of the woman who would turn out to be Erin, it was immediately clear she was a psychiatrist, and that she viewed the girl in the bed as a younger version of herself. There but for the grace of good fortune go I…
That was the starting point, the doorway into the story. All I had to do was find the wherewithal to walk through it. Who was this woman and what was she trying to tell me? Did I have the strength and the stamina to discover her story? It felt like having a stranger knock on my door in the middle of the night, who holds out her hand and bids me to follow her into the darkness.
Should I do it? Would you? Difficult for any of us to say until we’re faced with the proposition. Who knows where such an invitation or journey might lead? In the end, my curiosity to learn more about Erin won out. So there I stumbled, into the darkness, to find out who she was, what she was afraid of, and what made her tick.
Ever since I started writing fiction, I’ve come to feel that writers are like actors. We don’t just imagine our characters, we become them, too. As they make the transformation from words on the page into ‘real people’, it’s our job as writers to breathe as much life into them and their world as possible. Like an actor preparing for a role, I wanted my characters to come alive, so I did a great deal of research on psychiatric patients and forensic psychiatric facilities, including reading real-life accounts of patients and doctors, so that Erin and Timothy – and their separate struggles – would feel authentic.
One thing I came across in my reading was the idea that, at some point, every therapist will likely treat a patient that could be his or her double, or doppelgänger. Someone who mirrors the therapist’s own fears or unresolved issues that hold them back from living a rich and full life. While mulling over this concept, it made sense to me that my initial image of Erin and Cassie was the right place to launch the story, with Erin vowing to do everything in her power to save the troubled girl who seemed to embody a younger version of herself.
As I began to explore the relationship between them, however, something kept tugging me away. While healing Cassie was important to Erin, it didn’t feel like the principal road Erin needed to travel to confront her own demons. Enter Timothy Stern, a man incarcerated for years in a high-security psychiatric facility for the murder of his mother and sisters, a case Erin initially refuses to take on.
Readers might be surprised to learn that I hadn’t originally conceived The Shadow Bird as a psychological thriller. I’d wanted the story to focus on Erin and Cassie. But after the narrative between Erin and her young patient failed to take flight, it was transformed into an important subplot instead, giving depth to Erin’s character as she struggles to do what is right in the matter of Timothy Stern. When he enters Erin’s orbit, he shakes things up in disturbing ways that Erin could not have anticipated. But she can’t walk away. Even if coming to Timothy’s aid will force her to face the long-buried demons of her past.
