Move to Berwick, they said. It’s peaceful without the hustle and bustle of the city, they said.
That may have been true five years ago, but things have really exploded in the last few years. I liked it, at first. It’s on the edge of civilisation, but close enough that you can drive into Melbourne for a pleasant day of writing and drinking coffee. And now…now…I can’t even find a seat at my favourite café any more. That’s rather important to me, since that’s where I do my of my fiction writing and I need a good atmosphere. Pleasantly-full is perfect. Heaving? It’s just too much stimulation.
All I want is to finish my novel, which incidentally is about a man who learns to communicate with invertebrates. I’ve used the setting of Berwick as inspiration, so now he’s gone from being a generic pest control agent to a Berwick pest control agent. I hear there is actually an active industry in the area, so I must take care not to represent them in a negative light.
Not that there’s going to be much of a problem there…Benton is the main character, after all.Personally, I think this presents a very interesting moral quandary. What must a person do when put in such a situation? He’s a pest control person, but now he can understand the language of insects. He can hear when they’re making plans; he can ascertain their hopes and dreams; he can sense when there’s unease at the thought of being removed from their home.
Hopefully, this causes feelings of uncertainty in the reader as well. What would you do in such a situation? Is there anything to do? Maybe I need to conduct interviews…yes, find myself some people in Berwick, maybe Dromana, who do pest control. Really get a feel for how they do their thing. Wonderfull…