Lee Farnsworth
How a love of walking helped a first-time author to craft his novel (and market it in a very odd way…)
The author of Odd Bird tells how walking inspired and overcame difficulties in his celebrated new novel, and how he’s paying it back.
“To write Simon, I had to know what he knew. I began to watch and to listen more acutely. And what began as research morphed into pleasure.”
Lee Farnsworth’s debut novel Odd Bird is a warm, funny read about the dating travails of a hapless hiker and birdwatcher who knows everything about the natural world, but virtually nothing about mating between humans. Walking is vital to the story, not just because the hero does a lot of it, but also because Lee went walking to plan out its every twist and turn.
And now (when restrictions allow) he’s planting copies of the book on the footpaths of the nation. Here’s the story behind it, in Lee’s own words…
I didn’t always love walking.
Growing up on a dairy farm, walking usually meant fetching the cows. Walking was a chore.
The first recreational walk I can recall was on a visit to a girlfriend who lived in Derbyshire. In all honesty, it was a surprise. As I drove to her parents’ house, it wasn’t a walk around Edale I was aching for. But that’s what I got.
So when did I actually start enjoying walking? Probably in Pennsylvania, USA, as a young man on a quest for new horizons. One evening over beers, a friend said he planned to climb Mount Rainier in Washington State. I hadn’t heard of Mount Rainier, but I was fit, cocky, naïve and nicely oiled. So I told him I wanted in.
It was only later I discovered that Mount Rainier, at 14,000ft (4400m), is one of the highest volcanoes in North America. And one of the most unpredictable, both in terms of weather and possible eruption. Still, I wasn’t deterred.
Months of long training hikes followed – and I realised I was really starting to enjoy them for their own sake, not just a means to an end.
The day before we were due to climb Rainier, the news reported that the previous group had been airlifted from the mountain in Black Hawk helicopters. Strangely, this only added to my excitement (I told you I was naïve).
But our guides were naturally very cautious after that. They kept halting to assess the quality of the snow and thus the avalanche risk. And sadly, less than two hours from the summit, they turned the group around.
I was disappointed of course, but something had opened up in me. Perhaps the astonishing view from our base camp of the neighbouring mountains beneath the stars had something to do with it. Mostly though, I think it was just the rhythmic, almost meditative nature of the exertion that I fell for. Returning to Pennsylvania, I immediately volunteered for a 43-mile day-hike along the Maryland stretch of the Appalachian Trail.
My friends went back to Rainier and completed the job in 2006, but I had returned to the UK by then. Setting up home in the Chilterns, I accrued maps, guidebooks and an unquenchable thirst for the footpaths of these friendly (i.e. less eruptive) hills. I’ve also completed the Inca Trail, the West Highland Way and the first week-long leg of the Camino de Santiago. If I can’t get out for a daily walk, I get fidgety. Turns out I’m a late-onset border collie.
Walking took on a new importance when I started writing my novel,
Odd Bird. Dr Simon Selwood, the protagonist, knows absolutely nothing about the art and science of dating, but he loves a walk and he’s very knowledgeable about nature – and especially birds. So to write him, I had to know what he knew. I already loved nature but in a somewhat vague, general sense. Odd Bird forced me to watch and to listen more acutely. And what began as research quickly morphed into pleasure. I used to hear ‘just birds’ but now I can pick out wren, dunnock, black cap, and the other orchestra members. I’m listening in colour. And all that exciting knowledge has fed into Simon Selwood.
Walking also helped me to write it. Faced with a plot conundrum or character issue, I would start to scribble
scraps of ideas or stare out of the window. Neither was very effective. Eventually, I would go out for a frustration-fuelled tromp and, opening a gate or staring up at a tree, the solution would arrive, effortlessly.
Walking still plays a role now Odd Bird has fledged. Before the launch
I got inspired by a discussion about books with a stranger. He told me that whenever he finished reading a book he left it somewhere for others to discover. Thus, since the launch last October, and when restrictions have allowed, I have left a copy of Odd Bird somewhere every day.
Naturally, many of them have been left along the Chiltern trails close to home. And hopefully, when five o’clock briefings and vaccines will allow, the book will migrate further. My plan to walk Hadrian’s Wall in 2020 got scuppered; perhaps I’ll get the chance this year and be able to plant the odd copy amongst the trees and crags of the Roman frontier.
So if you’re out somewhere and come across an orange tome about a hapless hiking birdwatcher, feel free to give it a good home. And if you enjoy it, you can email me via my website (above). I would love to hear where it ended up.