Dodging Doggy Doo Doos
In those long past days of youth, I played Sunday League football, an unglamorous pursuit where my most skilful move involved avoiding the dog turds littering the pitch. Upon one such Sunday, my team arrived for an away game at one of the less salubrious corners of my hometown. The pitches occupied a wonderful open stretch on the edge of town, surrounded by woodland and dotted with activities for all ages. As I walked to the changing rooms, however, another world appeared. Either side of the path, two high wire fences, topped with vicious looped barbed wire, provided a claustrophobic sentry. Through the wire, you could make out a small enclosure with a single picnic table, similarly hemmed in by the depressing steel harness, access only possible through another door. It was a stark place and looked more US State Penitentiary than community centre. It also sowed the germ of an idea.
Fear compelled a community to take this drastic step: fear of poor behaviour and criminality. Yet it didn’t cure the underlining problem - those yobs didn’t undergo an epiphany to saintliness on sight of the defences - leaving the law-abiding citizens with just as much fear and an inhospitable environment. I’m sure, with time, locals got used to their mini-Alcatraz, but that to me is just as disturbing. The yobs won a victory, shaping the community, establishing the norm.
What would happen if such communal neurosis and complacency dominated an entire society? Perhaps it has already taken grip, as we see crime and fear of crime increase, people becoming more insular and less trusting and governments using the latest technology to protect its citizens.
I thought of a time in the distant future when these factors have grown to their extreme; civilised society contracting further and further, the criminals becoming dominant. An inverse world, where society shelters behind the walls and the prisoners live in the wide-open spaces: somewhat medieval. And I thought of this as a metaphor for how we as individuals build walls and avoid facing up to our fear. An emerging title, Liberty Bound, prompted thoughts of writing a novel. I like a title with depth and mystery, and when it popped into my mind, I knew it were a good one. Its double meaning offered scope to explore and dig deep into freedom. It also put at the core of the story the journey and my philosophy for writing is it’s always about the journey. Whether it is a literal journey from A to B, a character developing or a mystery which finds its conclusion, a novel should always transport the reader along with the characters, arriving at the destination and eager to take the next journey.
That’s the premise for my novel, and there it remained for 20 years. I suspect thinking the challenge of penning a novel beyond me, is one I share with others: the lack of time, the complexities, the dedication needed, doubts about my writing ability. But 20 years is a long time, and the idea marinated in the juices of my sub-conscious, while life developed me and my writing. Then one rainy Sunday, long after I hung up my football boots, the story seeped back into my consciousness. I plotted the full story arc in an afternoon, giving birth to each key character - everything slotting into place. Writing the narrative came easy, and, while a long road remained before publication, no doggy doo doo littered the field for that stage of the journey.
Oh, and by the way, we won on that distant Sunday.