View of the Oak from our bedroom window
At the very foot of our garden is an Oak. It isn’t ours. It belongs to our neighbours Bob and Sue. They love the tree, lighting it during the dark evenings. They’re not so keen on squirrels which nest in its branches.
On the left near the top of the Oak, there’s a small gap of cloud and below that a dark shape which is the magpie’s nest. I use the singular but I watched a pair build the nest last spring. In February last I was recovering from an elbow operation and had just started the exercises which would restore use to the elbow. As a distraction from the pain, I looked up at the Oak, and saw the pair of magpies take it in turns to build their nest. They had a complicated system for dropping the twigs. One bird would fly as if the Oak and its nest had nothing to do with it and then, as if out of the blue it thought I might as well add another twig. Another twig was added to the next. According to the internet, the nest won’t be used this year.
I’m prejudiced as far as birds are concerned – not being keen on either magpies or pigeons. That chance observation over several weeks changed my view of magpies.
Wrens used to nest in next door’s old garden shed. Though the shed has been replaced we regularly spot wrens in our garden. One morning during the week, while I was editing a novel, a wren flew onto the fence between us and our neighbour. It was shaking something. At first, I assumed it was a piece of leaf it was adding to its nest. But no, it became apparent it was a caterpillar. Within a few moments the creature was beaten to death and swallowed by the wren. It’s largely been a cold, grey month and it must be hard for the wren to find food. During the few warm days primroses have flowered and with them, caterpillars have woken from their ‘diapause.’
Piece of earth from where the caterpillar emerged
And so to what inspires me to write? With a novel I begin with an idea. Gradually, like the magpies I become practical. With Making Good, the idea was: a man leaves his partner of seventeen years, apparently on a whim. I describe the first scene. Piece by piece. He inhabits a place and a time. I don’t know why he leaves, I only know that he does. Far more slowly than the magpies’s nest building, the story arrives.
It’s not often possible to catch sight of a wren feeding. When they nested in next door’s shed, I saw them feed their young. They were cute. If you’re a caterpillar they’re not cute. I can’t carry the metaphor too far, but writing from the initial idea is hard work. A matter of survival. Bits and pieces from my observations and experiences form the long process of completing what I began. At times I feel how I imagine the caterpillar may feel – devoured by something I don’t quite understand.
Inspiration can be like that.
Current Inspiration
White Ghosts – Katie Hale. An American writer who traces her maternal lines – finding surprises and shocks along the way. Her writing is vigorous and out of this world. My Great Grandmother Crossing the State Border was particularly moving.
I follow Yasmin Ali whose political assessments interest me, I subscribe to Wendy Pratt’s, Notes from the Margin on Substack, and dip into David Aaronovitch’s substack articles.
On the Edge of a Sword – Kristiina Ehin was raffle prize from one of Jonathan Davidson’s online courses. The poet is Estonian – her work relevant at the moment.
The Hungry Tide – Amitav Ghosh was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize with Sea of Poppies. I struggled to get into this novel, but the final third was dramatic. I didn’t want it to finish.
Where Poems come from – Michael Longley – available on BBC i-player. Beautiful, moving poems read by Michael Longley and his wife. He talks about the background to the poems which is very interesting.
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