William Gibson Starts Blog.

The thread about the bridge in Virtual Light had me remembering where that all came from: a random glance out a window in The Clift, where I was staying during the tour for the previous book. Up early, on one of the upper floors, I happened to look out into thick, classic San Francisco fog and see, magically, just the top of that first cable-tower, suspended/isolated there in a field of gray. I suppose it became for me, at that point, a place.

But if you wanted it to be a place where you could be, where you could sleep, you'd need a floor and walls and a roof… Tree-houses, the forts that children build, secret places of childhood… Somehow, before I'd turned away from that window, I had the floor: it was made of two-by-fours, set on edge, making the deck a comfortingly solid four inches thick.

So, really, the world below, the bridge and its culture, all grew down from that, called into literary being to support what would become Skinner's room, Chevette's home, and the core of three novels.
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