From Swimming Log to Writing Log

Photo of swimming sqaud at Palmerston North Municipal Baths in the early 1960s. Val Mills

Time passes quickly when you're having fun, and so my presence here has been neglected. A lot of research and writing ground has been covered in the four or five months I've been absent, but the time has come to include this blog as part of my regular writing process. It's all about becoming more organised and consistent.

You see, I'm now only one year away from when I want the first draft of 'Down at the Baths' to be completed. I have books filled with notes, lists of people still to interview, and of practical things that need to be attended to. But, everything is going to plan and I seem to be on schedule.

In reflecting on my success as a swimmer I have fond memories of the little pink log book in which we set our goals, recorded our daily training and reflected on our successes. I'm sure that book was instrumental in developing my strong competitive nature.

And so, success in one area needs to be transferred into other areas. It's back to a log book, this time to plot my research and writing progress. It's all set up and ready to go, with a weekly blog post included in the plans.

There's weekly goals, a daily diary of achievements, notes to myself and space for reflection at the end of each week. Now, it's full steam ahead, one year to cross the first finish line toward the completed project. Wish me well.

Finding A Place to Write

Gathering research is one thing, but until now I've put off doing the actual writing. I kept telling myself I don't have enough information yet. Thankfully I realised this is silly. As a one time boss of mine once said when I told him I wasn't ready to take the next step, when will you be?

So, I gave myself a talking to this week and chose to take the next step. Yes, I'm finally getting on with the writing. There's much written already of course, little disconnected bits, all filed away, hoping they'll find the right place to settle in the larger scheme of things. Writing at home is fine, but as yet I haven't disciplined myself to ignore interruptions.

Have you ever noticed that when the time is right things happen? My thoughts strayed to a room, a writers room, with nothing more than a table and chair. And tucked away at the back of my head the answer had been waiting for me.

To cut a long story short, I've found a room in a community house, free of charge, that I've hired for three hours once a fortnight. Imagine that, a room to shut myself away from the world, where I can't do anything else but write. Won't that be exciting? I can't wait to get started.

The First Time

I first came into contact with the old baths in Ashley Street when Mum and I went to watch cousins Victor and John swimming in the Manawatu champs, probably early 1960. Of John I remember very little, but I remember watching Victor in a breaststroke race.

Mum and I sat in the midst of the crowd on the long wooden seating above the dressing sheds, looking down on the pool below. The water, divided on the surface by black lane ropes, sparkled under the bright lights. The sky above was dark and clear enough to see the stars. Up there on the seats I felt drawn to both the black above and the blue below.

Apart from the school swimming sports, I'd never been to watch swimming races before. Being a spectator didn't suit me. I wanted to be down there with the competitors, diving into the water, part of the action.

That night, my first time at the Municipal Baths, a swimmer was born.

Why Didn't the Baths Open On Time

How often have you started reading what promises to be an interesting life story, but felt something was missing? It takes more than just the personal facts of the story to bring it alive. Readers like to know the bigger picture. The story needs to be placed in context of what else was happening in the world or community at that time. 

For, example, in my own research into the story of my local baths, I couldn’t work out why they were late opening for the 1918 – 1919 swimming season -remember, I live down under in New Zealand so the swimming season is October to March.

The answer became evident. A terrible influenza epidemic was sweeping the world after World War 1 and New Zealand, being a small country was hit particularly hard. Of course the swimming pool wasn’t open, when schools and other organisations were closed.

Knowing a bit about what was happening  at the time helps the reader understand your story better. It’s worth making the effort to include the bigger picture to give a better understanding.