It’s my hope that this story allows each of us shaped by tragic and painful events to see that we are not alone and that there is a way to weave new cloth. May it also increase our compassion for those struggling, including ourselves. As Dr. Nader noted in her article, mentioned earlier, such change may require a counselor, clergy, or a wise friend. I’d like to add the power of story and grace are also avenues to peace.
Finally, but not least, I want to acknowledge Andrea Doering, Barb Barnes, and the many team members of Revell who have lovingly carried my stories into your hands. I am humbled by
their enthusiasm for these stories and for the commitment to quality at all levels of publication. Joyce Hart, Hartline Literary, my agent of many years, continues to be my champion as I champion her! Leah Apineru of Impact Author has kept me on board with social media. Paul Schumacher of AdquestInc.com designed and manages my website and makes sure my monthly
Story Sparks
appears in the hands of those who have signed up for this bit of encouragement. Thank you. I have special gratitude for Janet Meranda, Loris Webb (my Canadian prayer partner), and Linda McCormick for early readings of this work and their suggestions. Of particular note are other members of my prayer team: Carol Tedder (who also handles my event requests with grace), Judy Schumacher, Judy Card, Susan Parrish, Gabby Sprenger, and friends Marea Stone, Sandy Maynard, Blair Fredstrom, and Jean Hendrickson. These women and their families have had us in their homes, prayed for us, and offered undue support for Jerry and me and my writing life.
I’m grateful as well to independent booksellers who continue to carry my titles all these years—this being the twentieth year of my entry into fiction—and who hand sell my titles, giving me new readers every year. My husband, Jerry, my faith community of First Presbyterian Church in Bend, Oregon, and my brother and sister-in-law, Jerry’s daughter and son and families, and friends have kept me stable and loved through the writing of this book. There are many others too numerous to name whom I claim as family and friends, and especially my faithful readers. You make my hours of writing worthwhile. I hope the Elizas touch your lives as they did mine and that all your memories will nourish and transform. Thank you.
Jane Kirkpatrick
www.jkbooks.com
1
. Curt Meine, ed.,
Wallace
Stegner
and
the
Continental
Vision:
Essays
on
Literature,
History
and
Landscape
(Washington, DC: Island Press, 1997), 128.
2
. See
http://giftfromwithin.org/html/Guilt-Following-Traumatic-Events.html
.
Author Interview
Q: How did you decide to write this particular story?
A: The unanswered question always brings me in. Eliza Warren’s memoir noting her mother’s death, a space in the text, and then the very next sentence being “In 1854 I married Andrew Warren” intrigued me. What might have gone on inside that space that she didn’t want to talk about? Added to that question was hearing of and later reading about her father’s crying through town that “My daughter is dead!” following the marriage. What was that about? There had also never been an exploration of Eliza the child as an interpreter during the Whitman tragedy. I wanted to study that as well.
Q: How did you decide to tell one woman’s story through diaries and letters and the other as a first person?
A: I wanted the two stories to be distinct in the readers’ minds and I didn’t really want to rewrite all of the stories about the Spaldings as missionaries. After all, there are many volumes of works written about them. I wanted to consider what the
mother might have experienced following the tragedy and her own survival and especially about her husband’s insistence that their daughter attend the murder trial. Speculation also exists about Henry’s state of mind after the tragedy, and I wanted to show his wife’s faithfulness but also some of what I think would have been worries about his volatile behavior. I thought the diary format could serve as a border to that story. I really wanted this to be more of the daughter’s story, so having her tell it and not be aware of her mother’s perspective until later I thought added interest. Plus, I think the daughter did have a hard life, carried great wounds, and was both stoic and stumbling. I hoped that the first-person format with a wider narrative could soften her and help the reader see the scared ten-year-old child within some of the more controlling actions of her later life.
Q: As you noted, many people have chosen to write about this family. How do you know where your story is going to go and how is your story different?
A: I don’t always know. I start writing before I think I should or I’d just keep researching! There are no novels to my knowledge based on the daughter’s life, and the mother is only a minor character in some fiction written about that time period. So the daughter is the focal point for me. A novel allows one to speculate about the why and how one felt regarding an incident. Biography or nonfiction allows one to explore what and when but must hesitate about exploring people’s feelings. Novels are meant to move people, to bring emotion to the surface and enable us to see our lives in new ways. To paraphrase French writer Marcel Proust, “The real journey of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in seeing with
new eyes.” I wanted to show Eliza’s journey toward seeing with new eyes.
Q: Eliza’s cookstove became a metaphor in this book for marriage. How did you come up with that?
A: It just seemed to fit. In one draft I’d written, “The cookstove, I decided, is like a marriage needing constant attention to keep the fire going but not allowed to get so hot it burns things and not so full of green lumber it smokes.” I didn’t realize she was going to say that, but it seemed to fit. A different version is what remained in the text, but the gist is the same. Plus, the stove has the added advantage of being a warm image inside a cold metal exterior that has to be heated up. I think that speaks to the changing temperatures of a marriage or any close relationship, even between parents and children.
Q: You wrote about the bond between people who have survived a tragedy as Eliza and Nancy Osborne did in this story. Have you experienced anything like that?
A: Several years ago my husband and I flew in our small plane with two friends, Ken and Nancy Tedder. She was seven-and-a-half months pregnant with their first child at the time. We hit a clear-air wind shear and crashed, missing three houses, power lines, and trees, hitting 450 feet from the end of the runway. My husband and I had many broken bones while the Tedders fortunately did not. Nancy went into labor, but it was stopped. But we all dealt with the trauma of the crash and what happened afterward. In this case, the happy ending is that Nancy delivered a full-term baby six weeks later and still has no memory of the accident. Guilt, worry, wishing we had done something different all visited my life. Since then, our lives
have been forever intertwined with the best of threads. They are as family, and one of the greatest joys of my life was the morning Ken called to say Nancy had delivered a healthy baby girl named Lisa. That call helped rewrite that story of disaster. So yes, we survived a terrible accident and the relationship with that family will forever be richly distinct.
Q: You teach writing classes and have said your own practice includes one from Structuring Your Novel by Robert C. Meredith and John D. Fitzgerald where you answer three questions before you begin writing. How did you answer those questions for this novel?
A: Here you go:
1)
What is this story about?
It’s about a mother and daughter who survived a great tragedy.
2)
What is my attitude toward this story? What
do I feel deeply about?
That memories can hold us hostage and separate us from flourishing relationships within our present moments.
3)
What’s your purpose in writing this
story? What might you be trying to prove?
That what we remember isn’t always the way it actually, factually was and that new stories can transform old wounds and old shames, weave new memories that nourish.
I hope I met my purpose in
The Memory Weaver.
Discussion Questions
Thank you for making room in your lives for my stories.
Jane