I am not a fan of new year's resolutions. Which is a little flakey because even though the first of January is just another day, like the 31st of december, the beginning of a year still feels portentious and weighty with promise and possibility. Nothing has changed but everything has. There is no mechanism but the slate is somehow empty. So what of 2025? What promise does this year hold?
I tell myself I want to write more. I am doing my best to make the space for this. Wish me luck.
The year is kicking off with the release of the third book in our BatKiwi series. This book, BatKiwi and the Big Wet, illustrated beautifully by Isobel Joy Te Aho-White, and published by Scholastic, is releasing in February and it is heartening to see a lovely first review here. We have also had an offer to publish My Elephant is Blue (Penguin Random House, 2021), in another territory/language which is very exciting. I thought our wee book had done its dash so it is very cool to see its journey continuing.
I saw A Complete Unknown the other day - the movie about an early phase of Bob Dylan's life/musical career. It was a very good movie. It's had me thinking a lot about creativity, about evolving your work within your art form; what it takes and how it might unfold, about the environment necessary, about how you respond to the market/your audience and how you are allowed to behave. Apparently people will forgive you/put up with a lot if you are a genius. In the movie there is a lot of ambition, selfishness and expectation on display. I am reminded of Henry Thoreau who talked of going to the woods to live deliberately, implying he was isolating himself to think deeply and philosophise, but his wife and (I think) his daughter went too to take care of him. When everyone else is meeting your needs, perhaps it is easier to devote all your time and energy to your craft. Do you have to be selfish to be creative? I certainly think about what is required to improve. Time working on your craft will see improvements. But how do you push through to new heights. What do you need to find another level, to push the envelope to challenge the form? I do think it means thinking less about what your audience expects. In Dylan's case (at least in the movie), he was evolving while his audience were still expecting more work like his previous songs. He took a risk that they would come along for the ride. Obviously we know how that turned out, with 55 albums over more than six decades. I imagine there are also many examples of artists who took risks that their fans couldn't accept. We don't hear their stories. Maybe their artistic endeavours were too avant garde, too experimental or niche? Or just bad. Plenty of experiments fail. I guess it depends what we want out of our writing. I have to accept that I don't always want to play it safe, and that my audience may not always join me on my creative journey. But understanding that and making that choice deliberately makes it easier to accept the outcomes. So maybe this year is a year of greater exploration, of risk taking and envelope pushing. I am kind of excited to see the results.
There's a great line in the movie when Dylan (played by Timothee Chalamet) talks about being asked the eternal question, and his response is a thought provoking tin opener on that can of worms - "They ask me where the songs come from. But what they really mean is why don't they come to them." Perhaps being brave (and maybe a little selfish) and stepping out in to the unknown is where we find the most excitng stories.
