The alien at the bus stop

In my last blog I wrote about how writing “anywhere” has become a major feature of my writing life. I don’t need a special place to write. I just need some place to write (although a special place is always nice)

This phenomenon is well illustrated by a story I once wrote at a lonely country coach stop, a coach stop that will forever be associated in my mind with a certain inter-planetary alien.

Let me explain.

I was in the little historic town of Gulgong in country New South Wales, the birth place of the poet Henry Lawson. I had gone there for a few days on a bit of a writing trip, observing the heritage-preserved buildings and visiting a few quiet museums and galleries. I had taken lots of notes. On my final day, I had hours to fill before my afternoon coach, and I had already checked out of the cabin that had been my accommodation.

So I sat on the bench seat of the coach stop, alone. And I wrote for hours in the open air. I had with me the beginnings of a short story that I had started at home. I suppose that’s the first thing to note about this particular episode. I was prepared, at least on this occasion. I had a piece of writing I could work on no matter where I was.

It was a fun story called “A question of identity,” and it had nothing at all to do with Gulgong or historic Australia. It ended up being published as the cover story of a kids magazine (pictured above, and superbly illustrated by an artist called Craig Phillips). The story was about an alien creature—a Zark.

The Zark was (intentionally) a bit of a mystery. In the beginning of my story, it was found just wandering about near the space drome on a futuristic Earth. But it wasn’t from Earth. In fact, it wasn’t to be found on the official database of one billion known galactic species. So the boy who found it had to take it with him to school, since the authorities (like authorities everywhere) didn’t want anything to do with it, because it wasn’t on their list.

It was this odd set-up that I was playing with while sitting at the coach stop in Gulgong. So I suppose that’s the second thing to note about this episode. It’s possible to be in one place in the real world, and in quite a different place in your imagination.

The Zark became clearer in my mind as I wrote. It was roughly the size of a large dog, and it was covered in long green fur; in some respects it was reminiscent of a sloth. But beneath the fur, as the boy in the story found out when he stroked it, the creature wasn’t warm like a dog or a sloth. No, the skin beneath the fur was reptilian and cold. And its feet were like those of a large bird. But the most striking thing about it was its head. It had a large beak, shaped like an eagle’s but five times as large—as large, in fact, as a pelican’s. The beak was razor sharp. It looked like it could rip open an elephant!

Was the creature safe? This, I decided, was the key point of tension in the story. The creature had followed the boy quietly to school. It seemed tame. It didn’t seem dangerous. But what exactly was this creature that wasn’t on any database? And why was the huge beak so sharp?

Without giving too much away, I can at least tell you that the Zark did turn out to be a member of one of the most dangerous species in the galaxy! It really could rip open elephants if it wanted to. The rest of the story was about what happened in the boy’s classroom when the Zark’s true identity was discovered. (I can also let you know that no kids or aliens were harmed in the making of this story.)

By the time the coach arrived I had pretty much finished my Zark story. I edited it once I got home. And so far this story has been published by that kids magazine not just once but twice. It remains one of my favourites. But it also remains a prime example in my writing life of writing something “anywhere”.