I’ve always been obsessed with language.
Sometimes I feel like my brain is on backwards. I was the last in my class to be able to spell my name, to be allowed to move from pencil to pen. I was the shy kid who only speaks to their best friend, or when whispering in the teacher’s ear. But I ate up books. (When I was eight, at Niue Side School, the library ran out of stuff for me to read.)
At fifteen, I changed my name to Will, which I kept for twenty years. I dropped out, and in, and out, roaming Aotearoa (New Zealand) with a string of typewriters and an ever-fattening suitcase of words. Reality is often confusing, but creativity has always arrived in the nick of time to save me. For now, I live in the Waikato.
Poetry shows itself in so many places that it’s inevitable what I make spills out from the page. It gets in the air, into objects, pictures, noise and characters. When I create, I’m always curious to see what’s about to happen.
I write because I write. Beyond that, I’m keen to do right by what I’m given. This is why I’m whispering my story in your ear…