I find that short stories hit me in all sorts of different ways, but I'm going through an unusual process with one at the moment. 

Before arriving here I worked up a list of very brief short story ideas for development into a collection. One of them was called 'We want to set things on fire', and it was about two people in office jobs who felt caged and tried to reconnect with their wild sides by having an office affair. 

A bit flat, but I figured I'd be able to flesh it out. 

As I was thinking about this story, I heard about a rural school fundraiser that involves a dead possum dress-up competition, and I decided to set the story in a small town and make my sexually frustrated protagonists parents who were helping set up for the school fair. 

Hmm, maybe slightly better. 

Then I attended the National Writers Forum, where there was a lot of discussion about why we tell the stories we tell, and who can be lifted up or brought down by our stories. And I thought that although it would be funny to write about a couple of hicks who dress up dead possums because they don't have anything better to do, it would make for a pretty one-dimensional story. 

At around the same time I posted (quite innocently, I thought!) about an animal welfare issue on Facebook, and inadvertently provoked some heated responses from farmers and vegetarians. (I'm a vegetarian but I'm also from a family of farmers, and I don't consider myself a "farmer basher".) This made me think about Brene Brown's book Rising Strong, which I listened to on audio book during my first week on this residency. I didn't think much of the book at the time, but one of her key messages is that everyone's doing the best they can. And that's actually a pretty good message to try to remember. 

All of this has found its way into my story, which now looks as though it's going to be about two people who have very different views about whether or not it's okay to dress up dead possums at a school fair. In this telling of the story, neither of the characters is a caricature (well I certainly hope they're not), and crucially, both of them are doing their absolute best - even though they have very different world views. 

​Oh, and the whole affair idea has totally gone. 

​So, this is now a very different story, but however it turns out - I'm doing the best I can. 
​

Thank you to The Creative Hub and Earthskin Retreat for the opportunity to undertake this residency.

“To hell with what’s gone before” – and other notes from the National Writers Forum.  
 
Here are my notes from the National Writers Forum, a conference held at the University of Auckland Business School and organised by The New Zealand Society of Authors. If you also attended the conference and have a different version of events (or if you have something to add) please let me know in the comments.
 
SATURDAY
Keynote: Lani Wendt Young and Anita Heiss
Lani gave a moving speech about the importance of kids reading characters that look like them, and how she’s coped with online abuse. Anita shared a rap / slam poem and talked about how crucial it is that you know what your purpose as a writer is. Both authors were incredibly inspiring and I am currently debating which of Anita’s many books to sink my teeth into.
During this session I was surprised to learn that print runs of novels in New Zealand are really small. Around 1000 will be printed, perhaps up to 3000 for established authors. Makes my 2000 Bruce Finds A Home sales look pretty good I reckon!
 
Creating 3D Characters
Brannavan Gnanalingam
I have been wondering a lot about writing diverse characters lately. I don’t know whether it’s best to present a well-rounded cast of characters or if it’s best to stick to representing the groups I know reasonably well. In this session, Brannavan challenged us to have a go writing from different perspectives.
Brannavan’s advice included:

• Do your research
• Read writers of that particular background
• Get someone to read your work who might offer a good critique (e.g. a member of the community your character is a member of)
• Read about how particular groups have been represented
• Take any resulting criticism on the chin, and learn from it.

 
Lunch
Steph Metal
I’m listing lunch as a highlight because although the catering was nowhere near as good as last time, I had the good fortune to sit next to the incredible S. C. Green / Stephanie Holmes / Steph Metal. Funnily enough I hadn’t heard of Steph until just the week prior, when her wonderful essay, The Damned Mob Is Coming For Your Words, won the The Big Idea essay competition.
 
Hearing our footprints – a conversation with Maualaivao Albert Wendt
Maualaivao Albert Wendt in conversation with Victor Rodger
In this lovely session Maualaivao Albert Wendt discussed his writing life. No question was answered lightly – when asked what his greatest fear is, he spoke eloquently about aging, religion and his fear of death. Here are some paraphrased quotes that took my fancy:

• One way to save myself from a crisis is to write about it
• How much do you reveal about yourself in your writing? That is a very delicate problem
• To me, everything is autobiography
• When you grow up in a huge family in a communal society like Samoa you have to be aware of all the relationships – everyone is putting the right face forward
• Teaching literature helped me learn
• My advice to aspiring writers is to sit down and write and keep writing. The physical process of sitting down and writing – you have to do it. The actual physical process will take you where you’re going.

 
Hybrid memoir and creative non-fiction
With Renée and Lynn Jenner
Renée is a bloody legend and obviously I wasn’t the only one who thought so, as her book These Two Hands sold out from the Time Out book stand (but I’ve got a copy on order). Hearing from Renée made me remember just how much her writing influenced my early stage plays. This session was a conversation between Renée and Lynn, peppered with readings of their work.
Some paraphrased thoughts from Renée:

• I said I’d only do a memoir if it wasn’t linear
• It doesn’t pay for a writer to get too fond of a character
• Call mums and dads by their names – the label ‘mum’ hides the person
• To hell with what’s gone before – this is going to be me
• For the first draft, just do it and then read it afterwards

In regards to her work, Lynn said she was inspired by a pottery exhibition. Three pots made by the same potter all had the same clay and glaze, but they were all different shapes. She took a similar approach in her book Lost and Gone Away.
Later in the session, debate raged between Renée and an audience member as to whether or not family members should be consulted before being included in your work. No consensus was reached.
 
Bottom up or top town?
Lynn Jenner
In this session we talked about ‘planners’ and ‘pantsters’ and how sometimes taking a ‘seat of your pants’ approach can free up your writing. Sadly I think I already fit more into the panster camp, but here are some tips for you plotters out there:

• Start with some free writing to see what pops up. Follow what’s of interest to you
• Start with an emotionally laden idea in order to get more depth out of it.
• If you go too wide too early you might risk skimming the surface – go down further first
• An audience member suggested reading Tim Winton articles for examples of how to join the inner and the outer in a story

 
SUNDAY
Keynote: John Marsden
Hearing from John Marsden was an absolute privilege. John spoke eloquently about his troubled early life and how he rose above his childhood circumstances. He also spoke about his writing process. Here are some top takeaways:

• The first then we have to do when writing for kids is get rids of the parents – there aren’t parents in YA books
• I decided to write a novel from start to finish without looking back or editing it in a three-week window. I only read the preceding paragraph each day
• The plot can be quite trivial – if the characters are interesting enough and we get immersed in their inner lives. Characters are real and profoundly complex people
• Marry the high-brow with the low-brow – high energy, plot, but also in-depth character and themes
• With characters, the most important thing to me is voice. I can’t write the book until I’ve got the voice of the protagonist. I’m pretty confident that I’ll finish the book once I’ve got that voice. To me, the voice is the essence of the person. I do listen quite avidly to people – the way they talk. The way they use language and what it says about them.
• They should have dreams, body language, unconscious impulses, Freudian slips perhaps. They also need stories. Our stories are what makes us unique.
• Strip away the masks to show the difference between appearance and reality – the truth that lies behind the concealments.
• To me the worthwhile novel is the one that searches for the truth, even though the truth will never be found
• The writer who thinks they know the truth is heading for disaster. Generally it should be a writer searching for truth and inching closer.

 
So you want to write a story
Anita Heiss
Anita is not a pantster. Anita is a plotter, which I think explains how she’s managed to write so many books. Here are some of Anita’s tips:

• You need to know what your purpose is for writing – it will motivate you to finish
• Why are you writing it, what’s it about and who are you writing it for? Answer these questions as a first step to writing your synopsis
• Whatever genre you are writing in – read widely in that genre. See who’s publishing those books.
• What’s your point of difference with your story? How will your story contribute to a global conversation?
• I cannot emphasise the importance enough of getting a structural edit
• In your cover letter to publishers, you can then say “I’ve had a structural edit done by so-and-so”
• What research do you need to do? Do you need to interview anyone?
• Nailing your synopsis will help you get to the end
• The first thing I do when I read a book about indigenous people by a non-indigenous person is to read the acknowledgements section to see who they’ve checked in with

 
Anita’s writing methodology

• Synopsis
• Character profiles
• Chapter breakdowns
• Research
• Writing
• Feedback – structural edit
• Submit

 
Resources

• Australian protocols for writing – Australian Council for the Arts
• There is a code of ethics checklist on the Australian Society for Authors website
• Structural editors – Nicola Shea, Janet Hutchinson

 
Here is my first attempt at a synopsis of my project:
Pet is a collection of short stories that explores the relationships we have with animals – and the relationships animals have with us. Following in the footsteps of authors such as Miranda July and Jo Randerson, and appealing to New Zealanders who like to think about things other than rugby, Pet explores domesticity, pack mentality, selective breeding, emotional support animals and best-dressed possum competitions.
 
Making it in the international market
Paula Morris, David Ling, Tracy Farr
This session focused more on traditional publishing than indie or self-publishing, but nuggets of wisdom included:

• There are some small imprints set up with the express focus of publishing books from small English-speaking markets such as NZ
• Make international connections with other writers who are working in similar areas
• Speaking at writers festivals is invaluable
• Get your work out there and get yourself out there
• Can you get yourself to a residency in Australia?
• When you’re going on holiday anywhere – research writers etc and get in touch with them. Can be useful for research and connections. Can you offer to teach a writing workshop?
• If a book is principally aimed at an overseas market, that’s where you should be looking to find a publisher
• Set your book in a specific place, “don’t make it blurry crap”

 
Writing series: challenges and considerations
Mandy Hager, Kyle Mewburn, Vanda Symon, Anna Mackenzie
I chose this session because I’m working on a second Bruce the Cat book. These tips don’t necessarily relate to picture books, but they’re interesting nevertheless:

• You can build up a loyal following because people become very invested in the characters
• You need an interesting enough main character to be able to carry a series
• Mandy said if she did a trilogy again she’d write them all at once. She would release them together at three month intervals
• For kids, it needs to be re-readable. Jokes, action, different themes, subtle social commentary, puns…
• Leave the book in such a way that it ties up that story problem but lets you know that there is more that can happen
• Keep a cheat sheet for characters – specify all their physical details, key events, little details. Names, ages, when they were born.
• It’s hard to maintain a first person narrative across a large number of books.
• Plan an arc for each book and across the three books. Know how it ends to you can work towards it
• Spontaneity in junior fiction is important. Have a big, strong concept.

 
Where to from here
Panel discussion with industry leaders
After an invigorating two days I found this last session a bit depressing. The session was focused on what the industry hopes to achieve over the next ten or so years, whereas I think it would have been more inspiring to focus on what we the writers can hope to achieve – how we can put what we learnt from the conference into practice. Still, that and the catering were the only non-amazing aspects of the forum – overall it gets an A++ from me.
 
On a somewhat related note, I’ve been reading issue 231 of Overland, which has an education theme. An article prompted me to come up with my own “MFA reading list” of 20 books to assist me in writing Pet. Here’s a first draft of what my list might look like. Perhaps I’ll finish this list and challenge myself to read everything on it within a certain timeframe. (Let’s hope some of these titles are available as audiobooks or I won’t have a hope.) I’d love to hear your suggestions for other books to read – specifically, short story collections, stories with animal themes, and the weird and wonderful in general.
 
Kathryn’s MFA book list:

1. Everything We Hoped For, Pip Adam
2. These Two Hands, Renée
3. Sodden Downstream, Brannavan Gnanalingam
4. No one belongs here more than you, Miranda July
5. Tail of the Taniwha, Meredith Courtney Sina
6. Memoirs of a Polar Bear, Yōko Tawada
7. Certain American States, Catherine Lacey
8. A Manual for Cleaning Women, Lucia Berlin
9. The Lonesome Bodybuilder, Yukiko Motoya
10. My Cat Yugoslavia, Pajtim Statovci
11. The Girl in the Flammable Skirt, Aimee Bender
12. Open Secrets, Alice Munro
13. Steps, Jerzy Kosinski
14. Kiss Kiss, Roald Dahl
15. Collected Stories, Grace Paley
16. The Complete Stories, Flannery O’Connor
17. The Secret Self: A Century Of Short Stories By Women, Hermione Lee
18. The Essential Tales of Chekhov, Anton Chekhov
19. Eating Animals, Jonathan Safran Foer
20. When Elephants Weep, Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson,  Susan McCarthy

Picture from PxHere.

A few years ago I worked for an organisation that was going through a restructure, and as part of that we were sent on ‘resilience training’. 

Well, that training was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. I walked out of those sessions and immediately made a big change in my life – I started getting up early every morning to write short stories before going to work.  

After a while I started placing my stories on websites and in journals. I even won the Headland Prize for my short story Frangipani. 

Things were all going to plan.

And then … Bruce. 

You might already know this story, but in a nutshell:

1. I found a day-old kitten on the footpath
2. My husband and I became round-the-clock kitty carers
3. The cat (Bruce) went viral and I became his social media manager
4. I wrote and crowdfunded a children’s book based on his story. 

Phew!

It’s been an amazing ride, and I wouldn’t change a thing, but it has put my story-writing on the back-burner for almost three years.

This morning I cleared out my old writing files and found a cluster of stories that I’d been developing at around the time I found Bruce. With a bit of spit and polish, I think some of them might actually scrub up quite nicely. 

Another discovery I’ve made today is that birds appear to enjoy watching people as much as people enjoy watching birds. 

A palm frond crashed off a Nikau onto the deck this morning, and two fat kererū watched intently from the box seats of a nearby tree as I hauled it away into the undergrowth. I could almost hear the conversation they were having about me. 

Meanwhile the chicken, who I thought I had secured in her run, mysteriously appeared the second I sat down with my sandwich and jumped all over me in her attempt to catch some crumbs. 

There’s no shortage of birds here. Pukeko forage through the garden, Tui sing the second line of Frère Jacques as though it’s the song that never ends, and a cluster of rainbow-coloured parrots invade the trees from time to time. 

And of course, there are the gannets. They’re nesting down at the beach at the moment, and they’ve got high-density living down to a fine art. 

Robin, who is not a bird but a friendly neighbour, invited me over for dinner with his family last week. (He made a delicious soup that I recreated tonight, but unfortunately for you I have been sworn to secrecy and cannot divulge the recipe.) My husband Tim came up from Dunedin for the weekend and we returned the favour, inviting Robin’s family over for a Mexican-inspired feast. 

Yesterday I gave my talk at Earthskin. The tem ‘talk’ perhaps overstates the casual nature of the proceedings, but the ten guests and I enjoyed a bounty of snacks (including Tim’s lemonade scones) and I took everyone on a walk to see the red swamp at the bottom of the garden. 

After all my entertaining I’ve ended up with a surplus of grapes. Ever since the Creative Hub writers came out a week ago I’ve been hand-feeding the chicken leftover grapes ​twice a day as though she’s some kind of deity. 

But I’m happy to bow to her demands.

​She is a theropod dinosaur, after all.

Thankfully, the Stevie Nicks of New Zealand's literary scene disappeared before I was able to prostrate myself before her leather boots. 

The book launch for Bonsai: Best small stories from Aotearoa New Zealand featured wine and cheese, friendly people, lively discussion and Tracey Slaughter.

If you're not familiar with her work, here's a taster - the wonderful short story The Names In The Garden. And if you're up for something a little more adult, here's Postcards Are A Thing Of The Past, which was just named runner-up for The Moth Short Story Prize. 

Tracey Slaughter isn't the only rock star I've been thinking about lately. Ever since I heard the news that Jenny Morris is being inducted into the NZ Music Hall of Fame, her song Tears has been repeating in my head. If you haven't seen the music video, do yourself a favour and check it out.

I've also been listening to the audiobook of Man's Search for Meaning by Psychiatrist and Holocaust-survivor Viktor Frankl. To lighten the mood I've been dipping into The Bachelor Australia, but unfortunately this season's more horror than romance.

Along with reading Bonsai I'm reading The Best American Essays of 2017. The most powerful so far is Eliese Colette Goldbach's White Horse. If you're interested, you can read it online. 

I'm also branching out with my food choices. Over the weekend several Creative Hub alumni came out for a mini retreat and we spent our time writing, walking, getting feedback on our project pitches and eating wasabi KitKats. 

It may sound as though I'm caught in a hedonistic loop of partying, reading and hero-worship. but I'm also making good progress towards my creative goals. I've written two first drafts of short stories, which I think is a good effort.

The drawing hasn't been going quite as well. I'm aiming to complete a Bruce book picture a week, but in the first picture the characters were smudgy and misshapen and I had to start all over again.  

I'm also suffering from a severe case of impostor syndrome that's keeping me awake at night. The side of myself that wants to achieve as a writer appears to be at war with the side of myself that thinks I'm a munter for trying. 

Perhaps the amount of good writing I'm reading is giving me performance anxiety. Maybe it's time to stop reading so much Tracey Slaughter and start scouring the 'world's worst books' lists. I hear there's a series about sparkly vampires I haven't read. 

​I’ve been thinking a lot about animals since I’ve been here.
 
Dogs set the hills alive with the sound of barking, rabbits set the park alive with more rabbits, and fat ‎kererū set my mind alive as they fly through the nikau palms with their musical wings beating.
 
I also buried a chicken R.I.P., and I’ve been walking tentatively around the garden lest I step on her fallen comrade, missing presumed munched.
 
I keep hearing the phantom miaows of my two rescue cats Jager and Bruce, who are actually 1,500 kilometres away. For those who don’t know, Bruce is an internet cat, so I’m also interacting with his fans every day.
 
Omaui’s plan to ban domestic cats has made the New York Times, and I read the frenzied comments by the generally calm and measured Times readers with increasing alarm. I practically wrote an essay about cat control in my mind as I walked along the beach this afternoon. Some people want their cats to live free-range lives. Other people want to dramatically reduce the number of cats. Personally I think we can do both, and perhaps I’ll write about that sometime. (But perhaps I won’t. Bruce is staunchly apolitical and I don’t want to draw him into the fray.)
 
I’ve also been thinking about animals because I’m supposed to be thinking about animals.
 
While I’m here I’m working on pieces of writing for a short story collection. The past two days I’ve spent the mornings writing, then a few hours after lunch doing paid work before going for a walk and coming back to work on illustrations for my next Bruce the Cat children’s book. The thing with the paid work is that all the rats and mice I thought I might be able to leave in Dunedin have followed me up here and are nibbling away at my drawing time. I’m going to have to set some traps.
 
My short story collection is called Pet, and it explores the relationships we have with animals. I’m pleased with how the first story’s going. It involves an unexpected animal in an unexpected place, and I was actually laughing out loud this morning as I wrote it. Either it's funny, or after 3 1/2 days on my own I've already lost my mind.  
 
And I have some other animal news to share.
 
When I went under the house to get some firewood this afternoon, someone was casually roosting on the workbench in the area I’d already checked at least ten times.
 
The missing chicken!
 
She’s alive!

I'm sitting beside a glowing fire, the wind and a maniacal hound howling outside, my jeans still muddy from the grave I dug earlier. 

Yesterday I arrived in Auckland to take up a month-long creative residency at Earthskin Retreat. Little did I know as I picked up my rental car that I would soon be caught up in a murder mystery. 

I drove confidently through the Waterview Tunnel, marvelling at the feat of engineering and at the blinding sea as I hurtled from the channel's depths. I drove semi-confidently to Kumeu, where I picked up some groceries from a supermarket with clientele so moneyed that the price labels are typed in 'who reads this anyway' 4 point font. I drove somewhat less confidently through winding bush-lined streets to Muriwai Beach and I white-knuckled it down an almost vertical driveway. 

It didn't look like a murder scene. It looked like a gorgeous, sun-filled home surrounded by Nikau palms and cabbage trees. I lit the fire in a personal best of thirty minutes and spent the evening unpacking, looking for the chickens and finishing The New Animals. In retrospect, the fact that I was reading a dystopian novel that features a crazed dog was somewhat foreshadowing. That, and the fact that I couldn't find the chickens. 

In the morning I started as I mean to go on by rising early and doing Pilates for Beginners. I've been following along to this DVD for about six years and I still haven't moved up to intermediate level. As I was getting stuck into some writing a local man called Robin stopped by to tell me more about the property. He arrived with a bunch of yellow freesias and a bouquet of stories. Robin's in his 80s, but he's got three kids in their early teens to keep him young. In between tales of his Antarctic adventures, the challenges of vegan cooking and his surf lifesaving exploits he mentioned that it's been a bad year for bodies. There have been drownings here this year, and bodies have also washed ashore from drownings off other beaches. There has been a suicide. And now there's been a murder. 

In the afternoon I explored the property some more. I walked through a Nikau forest to a shimmering lake. I returned to the house and checked out the worm farm and the bokashi bin. I walked through a vegetable patch that has a 'secret garden' feel. 

And then I saw it.

Beak down in the mud, surrounded by feathers and sodden with the previous night's rain. 

I wasn't sure what to do with the corpse of the chicken. After some consideration I decided to bury it. I'd never dug a grave before. In fact I can't remember ever digging anything. But at length, the grave was dug. I maneuvered the surprisingly heavy chicken onto the spade and lowered it head-first into the dismal hole before covering it with mud. Unsure whether or not the grave was deep enough to prevent the chicken from resurfacing, I decorated it with the biggest rock I could find. 

To lighten the mood I decided to walk to the beach. On my way up the driveway, I crossed paths with an unleashed Rottweiler. 

The beach was wild and stormy. I wondered how many bodies have washed up on it over the years. I wondered if I'll find the body of the second missing chicken. I wondered if I should get out of the rain. 

When I returned to Earthskin I lit the fire in a personal best of twenty minutes. I broke open a block of Lindt 'pink grapefruit' dark chocolate. I don't know what it cost, but it's delicious. 

Thank you to The Creative Hub and Earthskin Retreat for the opportunity to undertake this residency.