Why does one want to write a novel? When I was a very small boy, growing up on a New Zealand sheep farm, I made one of my life’s most significant discoveries – I love books. Given that you are reading this, I think it safe to assume you do too.
ln my teens and with all the certitude of youth, I decided that I would not be a ‘bookworm’ only, but that I would also write stories. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that I simply didn’t know enough to create the kind of stories I wished to tell.
So, I got on with the business of life, optimistic that in due course I would accumulate the understanding, experience and hopefully wisdom, to successfully complete a novel. I had to wait a very long time and frankly, one can claim only partial success against any of these attributes!
I taught primary school briefly and for several years worked in the fishing industry. I raised a family, renovated one house and built another, obtained arts and business degrees, worked in science with a government agency; moved into corporate business, traveled and from time-to-time grappled like Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby, with predicaments popularly known as mid-life crises.
But lo – I wrote ‘Spindrift.’ Drawing extensively on my early experiences in commercial fishing, 'Spindrift' was published by Reed NZ in 2000, the same year that I was awarded the BNZ Katherine Mansfield Essay Prize. Two years later, Reed published my second novel, ‘Oystercatcher.’
Since then, I have written the eight other novels described in ‘Greg’s Novels.’
The process of writing a novel is a curious one. In my experience, there comes a moment when as author, I no longer feel that I own the story - instead, it is the characters, heaving into view who call the shots. It is why I felt sorrowful as I neared the end of ‘Oystercatcher’ (and frankly, glad to put the final full-stop); horrified as I witnessed the fate of Sebastian Smith in 'The Lavender Man;' and immensely relieved that the young soldier in 'Songs of the Other Man' would make it through. However, I was chuckling with surprise at the machinations of the eponymous characters in ‘Vote Dimple Potts’ and 'The Trials of Max Pipe;' and filled with sympathy for the unlucky Charles Willoughby in 'The Ghost in the Aspens.' Perhaps one should not be surprised. Anyone who has ever read 'The Happy Prince' to young children, will know exactlty what I mean when I say a story can take one by the throat!
Surely, it is that feeling of intense engagement with a story, whether as author or reader, that explains why we find books so rewarding. And what greater or more worthwhile challenge for a writer, than to touch a reader, or to create a character that might become a life-long friend?
Thank you for being here. I welcome your feedback.
Greg Billington