Throwing Plots

On the weekend, I went down to Kakamigahara, in Gifu Prefecture. I was doing research for my novel, The Last Wild Thing, but while I was there, I was able to catch up with one of my host families, from my time as a high-school exchange student. In the usual spirit of Japanese hospitality, they treated me to many things, among them participation in a pottery class, a hobby my host father has recently taken an interest in.

When the class began, I was asked what I wanted to make. During the class, it was suggested that I begin working the clay only once I had a clear idea of what I was aiming for. After the class, I was asked what I had made.

Thinking about all of this later, I realised something interesting - that without thinking about it, I had approached the clay exactly as I approach the writing of a novel. That I had set out without any idea of where it was I was heading. That when I had stopped and tried to be 'sensible' and do some advance planning I had been completely at a loss. That there was no way I could make a plan without actually beginning the process. That what I needed to do was begin, to get my hands moving and the wheel turning and see what happened.

This is how I write. I cannot plan. I cannot form any real idea of what a novel is about until I am in the thick of writing it. As I do so, a shape slowly emerges and I realise what it is I'm heading towards. Or I don't, but I continue to work, enjoying the feeling of the clay beneath my fingers, the words upon the page. Slowly, the work unrolls itself in front of me. I lean back every now and then to make sure it isn't leaning too far to one side, that the cracks aren't too large to fix up later. And once finished, I sit back and look at what I've done. I wet my fingertips and smooth down the ridges and dry patches and cracks that are only too visible to me now.

And when someone asks me what it is that I've made, I suck in air through my teeth, Japan-style and say, "Well... it's ... you know. It's this thing. I made this."

And I hope that my editor has room in her kiln.

The Duck Is Not Amused

We were walking, the duck and I, on our way up the hill to work on campus. The duck was riding, as he always does, in the mesh outer pocket of my backpack, the source of occasional stares, giggles, and some interesting conversations. If you want to break the ice in a strange place, I heartily recommend the "duck in pocket" strategy.

We were walking up the hill when we stopped in our (my) tracks. There were beady eyes upon us. Two pairs.

It looks like the duck is going to have to waddle aside for a time.

It looks like the penguins are coming.

No Ducks in This Book (no, really ...)

My fondness for ducks is no secret. Neither is my tendency to find spurious reasons to write books about them. I've talked here before about how Duck the First is out in the world, Duck the Second is on is way, and Duck the Third is pecking at the thin walls of my writerly sanity, begging to be next.

Now I can officially announce that Duck the Second really is on its way. That it has a contract and an illustrator and pencil sketches and a projected publication date and all of the things that mean it is really, truly, going to be a book.

And I'm sneaky, you know, because I didn't want my publisher to catch on to my nefarious plan of becoming the leading duck-related author in the Southern Hemisphere, so when I pitched the manuscript, I cunningly titled it No Ducks in this Story!

Somehow, though, they saw through my schemes. After much discussion and gnashing of teeth (mine) it was decided that there would be - quite literally - no ducks in this story and with a little rejigging of the text, the manuscript was re-titled No Bears in this Book!

It has since undergone another small title change, for additional teeth-gnashing reasons I won't go into here, and is now titled, simply No Bears!

It is still, however, the same quirky story I originally pitched and if the speed of the amazing Leila Rudge is any indication, will probably be out some time next week . I have seen early sketches and they are beautiful. I'm not going to give away anything about the story at this point, but what I can say is that it is clearly destined for great things because despite not yet being published it has already won the most prestigious prize of them all - the inaugural Rottnest Retreat Pitch Award, given to the first writer to secure a contract for a manuscript pitched at the annual SCBWI (WA) Rottnest Island Retreat.

 

I was unable to attend this year's retreat, due to my inconvenient location in Nagoya, Japan, but Sarah Foster, Walker Books publisher and fellow duck-lover, accepted the award on my behalf.

Meanwhile, the Duck and I continue our travels in Japan, though our time is drawing inexorably to its end.

Travelling the North Sea Road

Last week I took off on the trail of a verse novel. I caught six trains for fifteen hours, going north to Tokyo, then north to Hachinohe, then north to Hakodate, then north to Sapporo. Hokkaido.北海道. The north sea road.


There are few things I like more than settling onto a train (or six) and letting them carry me away and away and away, especially when every degree of away means further and further from cities and noise and rush hour subways.

From Sapporo, I hired a car for a few days and went further - first north to Daisetsuzan National Park, where I walked through knee-deep snow to the lip of a bubbling volcano, then east, with the aid of a well-intentioned but largely misguided GPS system which allowed me many more adventures than I would otherwise have had, to Kushiro-Shitsugen National Park, where I drove gravel roads through marshland, bushwalked many a mountain trail to the top of the hill and back again, spied on the endangered red-crowned Manchurian crane, ate the freshest of fresh seafood, bunked down in tiny little youth hostels on the edge of nowhere.

I found my verse novel. I also found deer, foxes, thick banks of late-night fog, driving rain, clear skies, a bear, and a charming young policeman who sent me on my way with the words "Hokkaido is big. Drive safely."


 
I did. Despite the exhortations of a Japanese authored guidebook I recently read, whose "Driving in Japan" section consisted of "We recommend foreign tourists enjoy our excellent rail network", I drove far and safely and at times, perhaps, a little too quickly. 

I am off again tomorrow, hunting Basho in Matsushima and then on to Yokohama for some research and a SCBWI Japan event. After that, I will be bunkering down here in Nagoya for the home stretch to write, write and write some more.