Dave Butler's Blog
June 14, 2020
On Walking and Writing
I’ve returned from a walk with a close friend and as often happens, the walk inspired me to put words on paper. We hiked a series of trails in the forest south of the city, a light rain falling on us, my friend’s young dog crashing through the trees first to our left, then to our right. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we walked in silence. Birds chattered around us – the tiny kinglets with their ascending triplet songs high in the trees, the banging of a pileated woodpecker on a long-dead aspen. Squirrels marked our passage with their scolding. At our feet, blooming wildflowers – lupines and arnica and wild strawberries.
“All walking is discovery. On foot we take the time to see things whole.” (Hal Borland)
I know that my colleagues Greg and Pam deeply appreciate this same habit, this same link between walking and writing. When I am at a trail-head, or even when I simply close my front door behind me and head toward the local community forest, I choose where to go, how long and how far, and how slow or fast I will walk. Unconsciously, my brain builds a mental map of where I’m going, settles on a way forward, then translates that into action, one step at a time. Does that sound like writing?
“All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.” (Fredrich Nietzsche)
“Methinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.” (Henry David Thoreau)
“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” (Henry David Thoreau)
“Thoughts come clearly while one walks.” (Thomas Mann)
Once I’m walking, either alone or with a friend, the rhythm of my footsteps on the trail, and the repetitive, in-and-out sound of my breathing creates a form of thinking that – depending on my speed (or the steepness of the hill) – is either conducive to developing broad sweeping narratives, or to solving tricky individual plot points that may hide from me while I’m sitting at my desk. My heart pumps blood and oxygen not just to my muscles but to my brain.
“The rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and the passage through a landscape echoes or stimulates the passage through a series of thoughts. The creates an odd consonance between internal and external passage, one that suggests that the mind is also a landscape of sorts and that walking is one way to traverse it. A new thought often seems like a feature of the landscape that was there all along, as though thinking were traveling rather than making.” (Rebecca Solnit)
Not surprisingly, there is science behind this. In a series of experiments by Stanford University researchers (which, by the way, was designed while they were out for a walk…), they found that students who walked thought of between four and six more novel uses of everyday objects than when they were seated, and 95% of them were able to generate unique metaphors when walking, compared to only 50% who never stood up. That matches with what I hear from most writer friends when they’re asked how they get past writer’s block: “I get up from my desk and go for a walk.”
“For, as I think I have said, I can only meditate when I am walking. When I stop, I cease to think; my mind only works with my legs.” (Jean-Jacques Rousseau)
And where we walk matters as well. In a study from the University of South Carolina, students who walked through green spaces improved their performance on a memory test more than did students who walked on busy city streets.
“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” (John Muir)
“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.” (John Muir)
For me, the most profound benefit comes at the end of a walk, when I again sit down at the desk to continue writing. My mind is fresh, my body filled with oxygen and endorphins and fresh thoughts.
“Walking organizes the world around us; writing organizes our thoughts.” (Ferris Jabr)
In the end, I find that walking and writing are comparable endeavours. They are equal parts physical and mental, and like all parts of the forests through which I walk, they are in symbiosis – one needs and supports the other in equal measure. I am thankful to have found, and to love both.
“All walking is discovery. On foot we take the time to see things whole.” (Hal Borland)
I know that my colleagues Greg and Pam deeply appreciate this same habit, this same link between walking and writing. When I am at a trail-head, or even when I simply close my front door behind me and head toward the local community forest, I choose where to go, how long and how far, and how slow or fast I will walk. Unconsciously, my brain builds a mental map of where I’m going, settles on a way forward, then translates that into action, one step at a time. Does that sound like writing?
“All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.” (Fredrich Nietzsche)
“Methinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.” (Henry David Thoreau)
“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” (Henry David Thoreau)
“Thoughts come clearly while one walks.” (Thomas Mann)
Once I’m walking, either alone or with a friend, the rhythm of my footsteps on the trail, and the repetitive, in-and-out sound of my breathing creates a form of thinking that – depending on my speed (or the steepness of the hill) – is either conducive to developing broad sweeping narratives, or to solving tricky individual plot points that may hide from me while I’m sitting at my desk. My heart pumps blood and oxygen not just to my muscles but to my brain.
“The rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and the passage through a landscape echoes or stimulates the passage through a series of thoughts. The creates an odd consonance between internal and external passage, one that suggests that the mind is also a landscape of sorts and that walking is one way to traverse it. A new thought often seems like a feature of the landscape that was there all along, as though thinking were traveling rather than making.” (Rebecca Solnit)
Not surprisingly, there is science behind this. In a series of experiments by Stanford University researchers (which, by the way, was designed while they were out for a walk…), they found that students who walked thought of between four and six more novel uses of everyday objects than when they were seated, and 95% of them were able to generate unique metaphors when walking, compared to only 50% who never stood up. That matches with what I hear from most writer friends when they’re asked how they get past writer’s block: “I get up from my desk and go for a walk.”
“For, as I think I have said, I can only meditate when I am walking. When I stop, I cease to think; my mind only works with my legs.” (Jean-Jacques Rousseau)
And where we walk matters as well. In a study from the University of South Carolina, students who walked through green spaces improved their performance on a memory test more than did students who walked on busy city streets.
“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” (John Muir)
“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.” (John Muir)
For me, the most profound benefit comes at the end of a walk, when I again sit down at the desk to continue writing. My mind is fresh, my body filled with oxygen and endorphins and fresh thoughts.
“Walking organizes the world around us; writing organizes our thoughts.” (Ferris Jabr)
In the end, I find that walking and writing are comparable endeavours. They are equal parts physical and mental, and like all parts of the forests through which I walk, they are in symbiosis – one needs and supports the other in equal measure. I am thankful to have found, and to love both.
May 24, 2020
Writing Fiction in the Time of COVID
Writing Fiction in the Time of COVID
By Dave Butler
Following in the footsteps of Pam Beason and Greg Zeigler at Free Range Writers, I interviewed myself about what it’s like to attempt to write fiction at a very strange time in the world’s history. As they discovered, it was the toughest interview I’ve ever done.
Q.) Thanks for joining me today, Dave. I have a few questions for you.
You’re welcome. I was here anyways.
By the way, is this going to take much time?
Q.) Work with me, Dave. During these unprecedented times, do you find it difficult to concentrate?
What? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Could you repeat the question?
Q.) Focus, Dave, focus. Do you find it difficult to concentrate?
No. I still try to use the same process to write each day. That helps maintain the discipline I need to keep going, to keep adding to the word count each day, and to prevent other distractions from pulling me away from the story.
Staying away from social media is equally important. That’s a time-sucking rabbit-hole that’s an enemy of quality writing.
Q.) What’s the most amusing thing that you’ve noticed?
This is an easy one. COVID-hair! While I’ve been on too many ZOOM, MS Teams, and FaceTime calls to count, I’ve found it fascinating – and sometimes horrifying – to see the evolution of hairstyles and facial landscapes as the pandemic has rolled out. Some colleagues appear to be calling from wind-tunnels, their hair wild and out of control, while others seem to have given up all hope of an end to this. That’s sad, and may indicate a deeper set of problems. But then, they are writers…
Q.) Are you finding it difficult to balance writing and your day job?
Not so far. But we’re only ten weeks into it (he says with a wink). I find the two to be nice counterbalances to each other, allowing me to exercise different parts of my grey matter every day.
Q.) How many times have people asked you (in particular, other writers…): “I guess you’ve got more time to write now, eh?”
Don’t get me started, Dave. And yes, they are Canadian…
Too many! I had to slap myself the other day when I found myself asking another author the same question.
We’ve all heard that comment: “I always wanted more time to do the things on my to-do list. Now that I have that time, I’ve found that lack of time is not my problem.” Writing is like that…
Q.) Has the current situation influenced your writing in any way?
You mean, aside from the fact that most of the characters in my latest novel are nervous, angst-ridden, fearful and buying more toilet paper and hand sanitizer than they would need for a full-scale zombie apocalypse? No.
Q.) How are you maintaining your sanity in these strange times?
Primarily by spending time with loved ones (at a distance), connecting with family by FaceTime, and by getting outside as much as possible. I have a friend with a new puppy, so we try to get out to walk in open spaces, far away from people. Here in the Rocky Mountain Trench, it’s not hard to find places to do that.
And at the end of the week, with all my work saved in at least three different places, it’s nice to celebrate with a glass of Writers Tears Irish Whiskey.
Q.) Are you worried about seeing your next book in print?
Great question. For the moment, I’m focused on writing. I can’t really worry about what comes next because I have no control over it other than ensuring my writing is the best it can be.
But from time-to-time, I do wonder how many other authors are doing the same thing as I am, and how many thousands of manuscripts will show up in the in-boxes of agents, editors and publishers once the restrictions are loosened and residents of the literary world come up for air, blinking like mole people in the sunshine.
That, plus the fact that the publishing world will likely look quite different in the future, could be enough to make me take up a new vocation. But telling the story is too important. So, I ignore that hubris and stay in the chair.
Thanks for taking the time today, Dave.
You’re welcome.
Are you leaving now…?
By Dave Butler
Following in the footsteps of Pam Beason and Greg Zeigler at Free Range Writers, I interviewed myself about what it’s like to attempt to write fiction at a very strange time in the world’s history. As they discovered, it was the toughest interview I’ve ever done.
Q.) Thanks for joining me today, Dave. I have a few questions for you.
You’re welcome. I was here anyways.
By the way, is this going to take much time?
Q.) Work with me, Dave. During these unprecedented times, do you find it difficult to concentrate?
What? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Could you repeat the question?
Q.) Focus, Dave, focus. Do you find it difficult to concentrate?
No. I still try to use the same process to write each day. That helps maintain the discipline I need to keep going, to keep adding to the word count each day, and to prevent other distractions from pulling me away from the story.
Staying away from social media is equally important. That’s a time-sucking rabbit-hole that’s an enemy of quality writing.
Q.) What’s the most amusing thing that you’ve noticed?
This is an easy one. COVID-hair! While I’ve been on too many ZOOM, MS Teams, and FaceTime calls to count, I’ve found it fascinating – and sometimes horrifying – to see the evolution of hairstyles and facial landscapes as the pandemic has rolled out. Some colleagues appear to be calling from wind-tunnels, their hair wild and out of control, while others seem to have given up all hope of an end to this. That’s sad, and may indicate a deeper set of problems. But then, they are writers…
Q.) Are you finding it difficult to balance writing and your day job?
Not so far. But we’re only ten weeks into it (he says with a wink). I find the two to be nice counterbalances to each other, allowing me to exercise different parts of my grey matter every day.
Q.) How many times have people asked you (in particular, other writers…): “I guess you’ve got more time to write now, eh?”
Don’t get me started, Dave. And yes, they are Canadian…
Too many! I had to slap myself the other day when I found myself asking another author the same question.
We’ve all heard that comment: “I always wanted more time to do the things on my to-do list. Now that I have that time, I’ve found that lack of time is not my problem.” Writing is like that…
Q.) Has the current situation influenced your writing in any way?
You mean, aside from the fact that most of the characters in my latest novel are nervous, angst-ridden, fearful and buying more toilet paper and hand sanitizer than they would need for a full-scale zombie apocalypse? No.
Q.) How are you maintaining your sanity in these strange times?
Primarily by spending time with loved ones (at a distance), connecting with family by FaceTime, and by getting outside as much as possible. I have a friend with a new puppy, so we try to get out to walk in open spaces, far away from people. Here in the Rocky Mountain Trench, it’s not hard to find places to do that.
And at the end of the week, with all my work saved in at least three different places, it’s nice to celebrate with a glass of Writers Tears Irish Whiskey.
Q.) Are you worried about seeing your next book in print?
Great question. For the moment, I’m focused on writing. I can’t really worry about what comes next because I have no control over it other than ensuring my writing is the best it can be.
But from time-to-time, I do wonder how many other authors are doing the same thing as I am, and how many thousands of manuscripts will show up in the in-boxes of agents, editors and publishers once the restrictions are loosened and residents of the literary world come up for air, blinking like mole people in the sunshine.
That, plus the fact that the publishing world will likely look quite different in the future, could be enough to make me take up a new vocation. But telling the story is too important. So, I ignore that hubris and stay in the chair.
Thanks for taking the time today, Dave.
You’re welcome.
Are you leaving now…?
April 18, 2020
Environmental Mysteries and Public Debate: Can One Enhnace the Other?
By Dave Butler
I work in sustainable tourism in Western Canada, and every day, I deal with issues such as climate change, land use conflicts, and species-at-risk. And every day, I see wildlife species such as endangered mountain caribou (or sage grouse … or wolves … or grizzly bears) at the epicenter of debates pitting the environment against the economy. What motivated a professional forester, biologist, and former national park warden with that background to write mystery novels? Good question!
After many years of undertaking field work, writing technical reports and attending public meetings, and after decades of observing people attempting to paint complex environmental issues as black or white, win or lose, or right or wrong, I came to recognize – in a flash of the blindingly obvious – that these situations were gold mines for plots in mysteries, thrillers and crime fiction.
I launched into writing mysteries four years ago with my first novel – Full Curl (Dundurn Press). It’s loosely based on an international investigation in which I was involved as a law enforcement warden in Banff National Park. In Full Curl, I wrote about a simple premise: what if someone saw the national parks as a source of trophy animals, animals that didn’t perceive humans as a threat?
In my second novel (No Place for Wolverines; Dundurn Press), my antagonist is an American real estate developer who proposes a ski area beside a national park. However, the project is not what it seems. And like development proposals tend to do (think pipelines, hydro dams and residential subdivisions), the proposal divides a small town … with dramatic consequences.
In In Rhino We Trust (Dundurn Press), the 3rd in the series, I weave the interconnections between rhino poaching, poverty and international crime syndicates into a mystery that races across the harsh landscapes of Namibia. Is poaching somehow more acceptable if men do it to feed their families, and only because they may have no other options?
In each of these three mysteries, I use the interactions between people with differing perceptions of our natural world. Across the globe, there’s lots of grist for that mill. Time after time, in issue after issue, there are strident voices on both sides of environmental issues, all claiming the higher ground, the better argument, or in some cases, some God-given wisdom about what is right. Those differences can – and do – push people apart. And they make them do things they might not otherwise do. Such as cheat … or steal … or blow up hydro dams or put sand in gas tanks (thank you, Edward Abbey) … or kill. What a smorgasbord of possibilities for an author in search of ideas!
In writing mysteries, I use the three p’s – people, place and plot -- to dig deeper into the opposing viewpoints in these complex and emotional issues. The list of characters (people) in the novels embodies the diversity of opinions. Because there are good guys and bad guys on both sides of these issues (it’s not always clear which is which…), the list of potential characters in a mystery, and their potential motivations, are a treasure trove of tension, conflict and caustic relationships.
Place creates the environment in which the people interact. Stories can be set in coastal rainforests, interior grasslands or the high alpine or arctic, each with unique climate and weather, vegetation types and wildlife species. They can be at a micro-scale … like the endangered wetland habitats of the Western Prairie Fringed Orchid which is measured in square feet … or at a continental scale, such as the alpine and sub-alpine ranges of the mountain caribou or the grizzly bear. The scale of the issue sets the scale of the mystery.
Plot carries the story, builds tension, and answers the many ‘what if?’ questions that are a critical foundation for mysteries. Ideally, the plot also encourages readers – while enjoying a great story – to think, to question their own opinions and assumptions, and perhaps, to understand how and why others hold differing views.
It is that last point that intrigues me as a novelist. Because millions of readers across the globe enjoy them, can environmental mysteries also create a fourth ‘p’ -- purpose? Do they have a role in encouraging conversations? At a time when civil debate is increasingly fractured, do we have an opportunity as writers to do more than just tell a good story?
While this may not be the primary justification for writing environmental mysteries, I believe that it can be an unintended result. These entertaining stories can help people understand their own points of view, and perhaps understand the views of others. Ideally, they might be the starting point for much-needed conversations focused on sustainable solutions to the complex issues we face as a society. As an author of environmental mysteries, I see that as an exciting opportunity.
I work in sustainable tourism in Western Canada, and every day, I deal with issues such as climate change, land use conflicts, and species-at-risk. And every day, I see wildlife species such as endangered mountain caribou (or sage grouse … or wolves … or grizzly bears) at the epicenter of debates pitting the environment against the economy. What motivated a professional forester, biologist, and former national park warden with that background to write mystery novels? Good question!
After many years of undertaking field work, writing technical reports and attending public meetings, and after decades of observing people attempting to paint complex environmental issues as black or white, win or lose, or right or wrong, I came to recognize – in a flash of the blindingly obvious – that these situations were gold mines for plots in mysteries, thrillers and crime fiction.
I launched into writing mysteries four years ago with my first novel – Full Curl (Dundurn Press). It’s loosely based on an international investigation in which I was involved as a law enforcement warden in Banff National Park. In Full Curl, I wrote about a simple premise: what if someone saw the national parks as a source of trophy animals, animals that didn’t perceive humans as a threat?
In my second novel (No Place for Wolverines; Dundurn Press), my antagonist is an American real estate developer who proposes a ski area beside a national park. However, the project is not what it seems. And like development proposals tend to do (think pipelines, hydro dams and residential subdivisions), the proposal divides a small town … with dramatic consequences.
In In Rhino We Trust (Dundurn Press), the 3rd in the series, I weave the interconnections between rhino poaching, poverty and international crime syndicates into a mystery that races across the harsh landscapes of Namibia. Is poaching somehow more acceptable if men do it to feed their families, and only because they may have no other options?
In each of these three mysteries, I use the interactions between people with differing perceptions of our natural world. Across the globe, there’s lots of grist for that mill. Time after time, in issue after issue, there are strident voices on both sides of environmental issues, all claiming the higher ground, the better argument, or in some cases, some God-given wisdom about what is right. Those differences can – and do – push people apart. And they make them do things they might not otherwise do. Such as cheat … or steal … or blow up hydro dams or put sand in gas tanks (thank you, Edward Abbey) … or kill. What a smorgasbord of possibilities for an author in search of ideas!
In writing mysteries, I use the three p’s – people, place and plot -- to dig deeper into the opposing viewpoints in these complex and emotional issues. The list of characters (people) in the novels embodies the diversity of opinions. Because there are good guys and bad guys on both sides of these issues (it’s not always clear which is which…), the list of potential characters in a mystery, and their potential motivations, are a treasure trove of tension, conflict and caustic relationships.
Place creates the environment in which the people interact. Stories can be set in coastal rainforests, interior grasslands or the high alpine or arctic, each with unique climate and weather, vegetation types and wildlife species. They can be at a micro-scale … like the endangered wetland habitats of the Western Prairie Fringed Orchid which is measured in square feet … or at a continental scale, such as the alpine and sub-alpine ranges of the mountain caribou or the grizzly bear. The scale of the issue sets the scale of the mystery.
Plot carries the story, builds tension, and answers the many ‘what if?’ questions that are a critical foundation for mysteries. Ideally, the plot also encourages readers – while enjoying a great story – to think, to question their own opinions and assumptions, and perhaps, to understand how and why others hold differing views.
It is that last point that intrigues me as a novelist. Because millions of readers across the globe enjoy them, can environmental mysteries also create a fourth ‘p’ -- purpose? Do they have a role in encouraging conversations? At a time when civil debate is increasingly fractured, do we have an opportunity as writers to do more than just tell a good story?
While this may not be the primary justification for writing environmental mysteries, I believe that it can be an unintended result. These entertaining stories can help people understand their own points of view, and perhaps understand the views of others. Ideally, they might be the starting point for much-needed conversations focused on sustainable solutions to the complex issues we face as a society. As an author of environmental mysteries, I see that as an exciting opportunity.
