I thought you were writing a book?
Why it’s taking so long
It’s not easy writing a book. Telling a story that spans several months and several thousand words is a bit like playing with Lego. You start with a box of shapes and colours and you tip the pieces on the carpet. Then you try to build something with those pieces. There are times when you think you’ve created something quite good — a castle or a space station — only to find that one part doesn’t work right, so you pull it to pieces and start again. Or you pull it to pieces, throw the pieces in a box and put the box in a dark cupboard until you feel like playing with Lego again.
When we started writing, Ben and I were unemployed having just finished exploring New Zealand for three months. We had time. Lots of it. I spent up to six hours a day, six days a week writing. I wrote a lot — half a dozen chapters, tens of thousands of words. But we both caved, moved cities, gained jobs, money, and lost time.
But don’t worry. The book is still happening, just more slowly than we anticipated. We’re still excited about it and intend to complete it. If it’s any good, we’ll pitch it to publishers and see if they think it’s any good. I like the stories we have written so far. They make me laugh and feel good about New Zealand. I hope others like them, too.
When we started writing we always said we were doing it for ourselves. We wanted a record of our travels and we wanted to challenge ourselves to write a book. I think we’d both still be happy if we finish the story and only ourselves, our families and a few of our friends ever read it. Of course, it would be nice to share it with others. If you’ve read any of our blog posts and they have caused you to smile, nod your head, go for a walk someplace new, or something similar, it would be nice to hear from you.
If there are others out there keen to here more about the adventures of two hairy men in backcountry and small town New Zealand, then it might just encourage us to hurry up and finish this thing.
Thanks for reading this far.
Oh, and here’s a photo of my writing desk in my bedroom at my flat in Nelson. I’m sitting here now. It’s quite dark and it’s gloomy outside. Not very Nelson-like, really. Hence why I am in my room trying to write a few words that don’t cause me to cringe when I read them again.
To drop us a line or invite us on your next adventure, you can send me an email or tweet.
