High Land
by Sarah Hawthorn
(Transit Lounge)
Guest author post by Sarah Hawthorn about High Land for PaperbarkWords blog
High Land: the story behind the story
During Covid my daughter Tessa – then single – spent weeks in lonely lockdown at her home in Melbourne, whilst I was tucked away in country NSW. We’d chat a lot. For someone used to a busy workday and a hectic social life, she found the endless solitary days challenging and never-ending. She wanted to embark on her own writer’s journey, but was unsure where to begin. As this seemed an ideal time to spend her long evenings getting some words on paper, to kickstart her into action, I suggested we write a story together – perhaps take it in turns to add a scene and see what eventuated.
Enthused by my plan, I put fingertips to keyboard and came up with a rough concept that could draw from both of our personal situations: ‘A murder mystery set between a small village in NSW and a bustling Melbourne metropolis during the 2020 coronavirus pandemic, told from the viewpoints of an elderly man and a sassy 30-something. With seemingly nothing to link the pair, the events which bind them gradually become chillingly clear.’
To get our project going, I started Chapter One:
In a small town there are no secrets. A dead rabbit. A dead wombat. Rumours start and collect credence. Fields are being poisoned. This is deliberate.
There then followed the first 200 words of our soon-to-be bestselling cosy mystery, about an elderly man stumbling across a disembodied arm while out for his morning walk with his dog, Fairy. In my imagination I could see all sorts of possibilities, and I emailed the opening to Tessa, sure that she’d be equally fired up and her creative juices would start madly flowing.
‘What did you think?’ I asked on the phone that night.
‘Nah. It didn’t grab me.’
‘Oh.’ I was a bit flabbergasted, but wasn’t going to be thwarted or put off by her lack of enthusiasm. Maybe my idea was a bit too old-school for her. Perhaps she had in mind something edgier. ‘What sort of thing does interest you?’
‘Mmmmm…’ I could almost hear her cogs ticking. ‘I think it would be pretty cool to write a story about a girl who survives a tandem skydive that kills her instructor. I’d read that.’
Now it was my turn to be deflated – a bit like the parachute in her high concept idea – because I’d never skydived, nor ever had any interest in skydiving. ‘Ok-aaaay.’
‘Mum, I’m really busy, I don’t think I’ll have time. Why don’t you do something without me.’
Really busy? In lockdown? I could sense a brush-off. We hung up.
But the miracle girl who fell to earth and lived to tell the tale wouldn’t let go. She kept nagging at me until finally I gave into the urge and scratched the itch. It was time for another phone conversation with my daughter.
‘Would you mind if I wrote that story?’
She seemed bemused to be asked. ‘Of course not … Go for it!’
So High Land was born, inspired by and written for my daughter, with enormous gratitude for giving me the idea.
