Sailing into the Story: Behind the Scenes of A STAR TO STEER HER BY

The date is indelible in my memory: February 20, 1995. I was a sophomore marine biology student, about to embark on SEAmester: a nine-week semester on board a schooner, traveling from the Caribbean up the Eastern Seaboard to Long Island, NY, learning about not only the flora and fauna we’d encounter along the way, but also the ancient art of navigation and seamanship. I remember that day so vividly, even after all these years: bidding my parents a teary farewell at JFK and flying to St. Maarten. I remember the conflicting emotions I experienced on that flight: excitement, anticipation, apprehension, and fear. I remember my first sight of the Harvey Gamage as we approached in the ship’s tender, her masts stretching into the sky, her hull gleaming white, her sails tightly furled. We set sail the next day. I can still hear the chink-chink-chink of the anchor chain as it slowly coiled around the windlass, lifting the iron weight off the bottom; the rush of awe I felt watching the sails unfurl like the wings of a giant swan, slowly climbing the masts, billowing out as they caught the wind. I remember the taste of salt spray on my tongue, the caress of the wind on my face, the roll of the deck under my bare feet, the sharp fibers of the lines cutting into my palms as I helped raise the sails.

The next nine weeks were an experience that I will never forget: the explosive
colors of the sunsets, the constellations sparkling in the black velvet sky, the
bow-riding dolphins, the “all hands on deck” call in the wee hours of the night
to strike sails during a squall, the smooth wood spokes of the helm in my hands
as I steered the ship across a silent sea, the loneliness of bow watch in the
dead of the night, singing to myself to stay awake. (And the cute deckhand, who
distracted me from the letter I was writing to my friends as he bucketed water
over himself.)

My semester at sea never left me. Every year on February 20^th, it was almost like a poke on the shoulder: five years ago today, you left for SEAmester, ten years, twelve. It was like I was being haunted (in a non-terrifying way) by that experience. And I knew I had to write about it. I began to jot down story ideas. I had only two scenes that were clear in my mind, the main character’s first sight of the schooner as she approaches in the ship’s tender, and a scuba scene that comes much later in the story. And I had a list of things that I experienced that I wanted to fictionalize. And I had a title. At one of our ports-of-call, we visited a maritime museum. A plaque on the wall read “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky. And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.” These are the first lines of the poem “Sea-Fever,” by John Masefield. I remember the chill that ran through me as I read those beautiful lines, and thought about them often after I returned home and wanted nothing more than to go out to sea again (after I recovered from nine weeks of seasickness, that is). As I began plotting my story, I knew that the title could only be A Star to Steer Her By.

The book started to take shape, and eventually moved from being merely a
fictionalization about my own journey (with romance!) to the story of a young
woman who embarks on a semester at sea in the hopes of getting back in the water
after a traumatic scuba experience (plus romance!). There’s less of my own
experience in the story (though there’s still some in there), but I hope I was
able to not only tell the story of two damaged people who help heal each other,
but also convey the feeling of standing on the deck of a ship on the endless sea
with the wind in your hair, the salt spray on your tongue, and a glittering
black sky overhead.

Many thanks to Fresh Fiction for having me as a guest! I’m giving away a mug
with this photo printed on it, taken last year while I was on a sunset sail in
Key West. This ship that passed us by made for some really great photo
opportunities.