Out of the desert
It’s a deliciously warm night in Katherine, NT. I’m sitting at the desk of a friend who has kindly given us the keys to her house while she is off traveling the world. It’s two months since I last wrote a blog post and six months since we drove out of the driveway of our home in Melbourne.
Last time I posted a blog, it was to announce I was starting yet another blog – this one dedicated to travelling with Punch and Judy. But the best laid plans went astray. I lost all interest in blogging. There was so much going on, so many new places, new faces and new ideas to assimilate that to regurgitate it onto a page without much reflection felt like just adding a lot more white noise to the blogsphere.
I have always been the type of writer that likes to think about an idea for a long time before I put the words on the page. I’ve also never been very interested in writing about myself. So blogging about my journey across Australia with The Professor and a trunkful of puppets as our adventures unfolded became increasingly difficult.
I’ve kept a journal – as usual – about day to day events but it’s not something I would choose to share. I’ve written several short stories, some junior fiction chapter books and a non-fiction book for the National Library which will be released next year . I’ve also made some headway on a new novel. I spent a lot of time thinking about each of those projects as the speedometer on our car clicked over – climbing up to nearly 30,000 kilometres of travel since leaving Melbourne.
Some writers can produce self-revelatory stories at the drop of a hat. I’ve discovered I’m not one of them. I’ve discovered a lot of things about myself, about writing, about puppets, about Australia, about the things I value and the stories that I want to share.
Perhaps too much is asked of young writers when they’re told to ‘write a story’ for an English class or an exam. Some stories can take a long time to brew.