Hey all,

Seeing as I’ve just now finished with the last major edits on Snake Island (THE RELIEF THE UTTER RELIEF ITS LIKE I WAS UNDER WATER AND NOW I’M IN THE SKY SOARING, SOARING LIKE AN EAGLE) I thought it would be a good opportunity to take a look at how this novel came to be. It has taken all of me to write it, and I say that truly. I have put every ounce of me into it, and then some more. It is the most rewarding artistic endeavour I’ve ever been on.

The final word count = [image error]

I thought I’d start off here with how I got the idea. Strangely, this is a very specific memory for me. Normally ideas are strange, obscure things. Like trying to define blobs of glue. They’re squidgy and strange. But this one’s origin is much more like concrete. For not so great reasons.

In late 2016 we got a bad phone call. My Aunty Rose had recently been diagnosed with an aggressive cancer, and she’d been taken to hospital suddenly. We decided to make the pilgrimage to Victoria (we live in Brisbane) so we could visit her for what may have been the last time. That afternoon we bundled our family into our car, and headed south, driving non-stop through the night.

At the same time I’d recently been watching Fargo, season 2, quite possibly my favourite TV show of all time, and I’d been thinking about how much I’d love to write something of a similar tone. Something in a small town, people in way over the heads, crime, violence, suggesting at deeper themes. It was around 2am, on the way to Parkes or Forbes, that I realised I grew up in a small town. This was a novel I could write.

The biggest thing you need to watch out for as you drive along the Hume at night is kangaroos. They’re everywhere. Most of the time they’re already dead and rigor-mortisified (if that’s not an adjective it should be) struck by trucks earlier in the week, but often you’ll see them stare at you as you swoop passed going a generous 110km/hr.

I was trying to stay awake, desperately. I needed something to preoccupy my mind. And it all sort of converged together. One of my characters could hit a roo. The inciting incident (which now happens a little later on in the novel, but never mind that). Over the next five hours, as my family slept, I plotted the entire novel in my head. Multiple characters. Converging arcs. By the time we reached my parents’ home, everything was clearly defined. I had my start. I had my finale.

For the next few months that plot sat in my head, and gestated, until I finally managed to write it down on a series of cue cards. First time I’ve ever carded out a plot, but this one needed it. To Become a Whale was fairly simple, plot-wise. This one wasn’t. One character’s actions impacted another character’s action three chapters along. I had lines connecting thoughts from chapter one linking up with chapter eighteen. It was huge and fun and it came out fairly close to what I’d had in my mind on the drive to see Aunty Rose. Just more refined.

So that’s how the idea came to be. Borne out of tragedy, inspiration, theme. I’ll get more into theme at a different time.

My Aunty Rose didn’t pass away when we reached my home town (she unfortunately passed away a few months later), but we didn’t even get to see her. I got quite sick after my drive, and because she was in intensive care, we didn’t get to visit. I had some great chats with her though, and we were able to bring some joy to my parents in that hard moment in the form of my children.

I even managed to print out a copy of To Become a Whale for her before she passed (yay Officeworks!). Despite being too weak to sit up she was adamant she’d read it. Mum said she was overjoyed I’d thought of her. Bloody hell. Of course I did.

I’ll write more about Aunty Rose at a different time, but she was a fantastic lady. Utterly generous. I don’t think I’ll ever meet another person as generous as she was. The world is far worse for her being not in it anymore, and if you never met her then I’m sorry for you.

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This was family and friends at McDonalds after my final gig with Sounds Like Chicken before I moved up to Queensland. Aunty Rose is the lady with the huge smile, right at the front. Came to see my punk band play just because she was awesome. Lots of people I miss in this photo, but none as keenly as her.