A Way with Words
Des Hunt describes his writing day.
Des Hunt
I’ve reluctantly come to accept that water has some sort of magical power. The reluctance is because, as a chemistry graduate, I find it difficult to accept that there is anything about water that science can’t explain. And yet the facts are that most times when I walk a dog alongside water, I end up having wonderfully creative thoughts.
The breed of dog doesn’t seem to matter, for I’ve done it with three different types, the current one being a beagle called Puku. However, the nature and location of the water are important: it must be sea water, particularly that which washes up Matarangi Beach on the Coromandel Peninsula.
This walk is the starting action in what I’ve come to think of as my creative cycle. Like the diurnal cycle, it has a period of 24 hours, except this one begins at about 3pm. Of course, Puku always wants it to happen earlier and by 2pm is beginning to pester. But the early afternoon is the time when I complete the day-to-day tasks of being a writer – answering the mail, preparing for school visits, editing, proofreading, research – and I won’t budge until I’ve finished the day’s quota. Only when the loose ends are secure am I ready to go.
During the first part of the walk, Puku is on a lead, and the frequent stops that a beagle has to make are not conducive to creative thoughts. Only when we get to the beach and Puku is released does the magic of water begin to show. My head fills with images and sounds from other places: Lake Waikaremoana, Stewart Island, Orakei Korako … wherever the book I’m writing is set. The words and actions of my characters take shape as they move into new parts of the story I’m creating. To me, it truly does seem like magic: I can go through the functions of walking, checking on Puku, even nod to acquaintances, while my mind is in another place, a different reality.
The magic always stops at the end of the beach when I must once again put Puku on the lead and take the streets back home. Sometimes I’ll go up to my computer and record notes, but mostly I’m confident that my memory will last until the writing phase on the following day. This starts at about 7.30am with a read-through of the previous day’s efforts to ensure continuity. I’ll maybe tweak bits so that they’re right for my target readership, which is ages nine to 13.
Then, it’s two to three hours of new writing, putting into place the images and sounds I’ve retained from the day before. If things go well, I’ll write a thousand words or so. If not, then Puku might get his wish and the walk that day will be earlier and longer than usual. With his help, along with the magic of water, I’ve found that two revolutions of the creative cycle will solve pretty much anything.
Des Hunt’s Sunken Forest (Scholastic) is a finalist in the junior fiction category of the New Zealand Book Awards for Children and Young Adults, which will be announced on August 14.
I’ve found that two revolutions of the creative cycle will solve pretty much anything.