The Hitchhiker is Out Now!
The Hitchhiker
My new Audible Original – and, due to its accidental length, new novel – The Hitchhiker is out in Australia now! And what’s more, I am thrilled to announce that it’s been chosen by the Audible Team as September’s Editor’s Extra, meaning for the next month it’s free to all Australian Audible subscribers. This, by the way, is the first time an Original has been put forward for this – usually the books picked are well established bestsellers. Honoured and daunted are both kind of understatements; this is a gigantic vote of confidence that I hope I’ve earned.
The Hitchhiker follows a middle-aged man taking an impulsive road trip across Australia. In pursuit of the adventure he feels has always eluded him, he decides to pick up a mysterious hitchhiker – only for things to take a very dangerous turn.
I can guess what you’re thinking: so far, so The Hunted. But The Hitchhiker, outside of its setting, is a completely different beast. To say more would begin to veer into spoiler territory. All I will say is that the less you know about this one, the better.
So I’ll shut up and urge you to duck over to Audible, sign up for a free trial if you don’t already have it, and give my twisted little yarn a listen. There’ll be interviews and whatnot to come in the days and weeks ahead, but for now I’ll leave you with a little bonus at the end of this newsletter – an exclusive short story that sets the scene for the chaos to come.
Finishing The Caretaker
So this would have been the big news if it wasn’t for The Hitchhiker of it all, but last month I officially finished and delivered the first draft of my next book with HarperCollins.
The Caretaker is very linked to my other stuff, in more than one way, but it also feels like my most standalone novel yet. There are cameos and references and whatnot, but as I wrote I found that it was fundamentally the complete story of Charlotte Laurent, a very different protagonist to any I’ve written before.
Charlotte started out as a supporting character in Windmills, the book I’ve been working on in one way or another since I was 17. I’d always found her interesting but never had the scope to fully explore her. Early on that proved a challenge – writing Maggie or Boone Shepard has become so effortless due to sheer volume of time spent with them, so Charlotte’s voice was a struggle to find at first. But slowly this cautious, paranoid, emotionally reticent character came into focus and with every chapter I grew to care very deeply about her. There is one chapter in the book that I think is probably the best thing I’ve ever written, an experimental moment of reveal that serves as the keystone to her entire identity – once I’d written that, the rest was a breeze and the conclusion she ultimately reached felt, to me, exactly right.
I loved writing this book. I loved that my daily word count updates on Instagram led to plenty of excited, encouraging messages from readers. And I love that this feels both of a piece with my other work and also like something totally different. I can’t wait for people to read it.
Short Tales Interview
I recently joined my good mate Damian Robb for a chat on his brilliant podcast Short Tales. I adore talking writing with Damo – he’s so generous and genuinely curious about how everyone’s process works, and this was no exception. We dove deep into the often challenging realities of making a living as a writer, veering into some potentially controversial territory as we did, but I do hope this conversation provides some valuable perspectives to those still trying to figure out how to make a career out of storytelling. Check it out wherever you get your podcasts!
Book Week Talks
Like just about every Aussie children’s author around, I spent Book Week racing from school to school, chatting to students of all ages about my work and tumultuous career so far. Across the board I couldn’t have had a better time – the kids were so engaged and interested and I left each school buzzing. I love speaking engagements for the same reason I love interviews – so much of this career is spent locked away agonising over what you’re working on that any chance to actually discuss it with willing listeners is a total treat, and these talks were no exception.
The Hunted released in Germany and Austria
Back in August The Hunted finally hit Austrian and German shelves after several delays. This is especially significant for me as I have a lot of family in Austria, meaning that they’re all finally able to read the book. I’ve received a few horrified messages already.
But maybe the most important thing to me is that this release has meant that my Opa, 87 years old and still a massive reader, could finally read something I’ve written. His assessment? ‘It’s wild.’
Recommendations
A couple of weeks ago on a rainy Saturday afternoon I impulsively put on the original Clerks. I’m not sure why – my only real exposure to Kevin Smith’s work was suffering through Tusk a few years back and so I’d never felt much inclination to check out the rest of his stuff. But I have such a soft spot for cheap and inventive 90s films made by passionate storytellers, stuff like El Mariarchi or Love and Other Catastrophes, so Clerks seemed right up my alley. And it was, so I got to work going through all the View Askewniverse films.
It's fascinating that a collection of such intimately interlinked movies can all be so vastly different from each other, that you can have the goofy stoner comedy of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back one minute and the bracingly honest Chasing Amy the next, but I found something to think about even in the films I liked the least. And I will say that Chasing Amy is one of the best things I’ve seen of late – a film that spoke to and challenged me in ways I found immensely gratifying. A review I recently saw of one of Smith’s films said something to the effect of ‘they’re either made precisely for you or precisely not for you’, and while I think that’s a little reductive given how diverse these movies are, it speaks to what I ultimately really liked about the experience; for better or worse, these movies could only have come from one unique perspective. In an age of interchangeable blockbusters, it’s striking how refreshing that feels.
Norm – A Short Prelude to The Hitchhiker
Back before The Hunted came out I wrote the short prequel Bad Places, something I enjoyed the hell out of. I’d meant to do something similar for each of my new books, but life got in the way (although it could be argued that The Consequence is really an extended table-setter for The Inheritance). The other day I decided to take a run at it for The Hitchhiker and came up with this ghoulish little yarn. Like everything Hitchhiker related, the less I say about it the better, but as always I hope you enjoy it.
___________________________________________________________________________
The pub didn’t open until 10 AM, but Norm had had three guests staying the night before and while breakfast wasn’t part of the deal, he thought he should probably be there when they woke up. Or at least, before the missus did.
‘What the hell happens if they decide to go exploring?’ she’d demanded the night before as Norm eased himself under the covers and wished his hearing aid was broken again. ‘You can’t trust these city types. They think everything’s their business and nothing’s sacred.’
What exactly, he thought as he fumbled with the locked front door in the already blasting heat, did she expect him to do? Stay overnight in the pub? He’d done that once before when they were fighting and the next day she’d chewed his ear off about him hoping to get close to some young hussy (a fifty year old professor staying on the way to Perth) which pretty much made sure that he’d never be doing that again.
It was nice and cool inside the pub. He whistled as he made his way down the hall, pausing briefly at the stairs to listen and get a sense of whether anybody was awake yet. He did think it was nice to greet guests in the morning. A father and son had booked a couple of rooms, along with a young woman he guessed was a backpacker. Almost a full house by their standards. The Dad had said something about an early start, but maybe he could put a pot of coffee on anyway, in case they hadn’t left yet. Either way he needed one himself.
He put the coffee on, getting out a mug then finding a Styrofoam cup in the cupboard under the sink. He went to check on his latest batch of home brew and the bottles lined up next to it. None had exploded during the night, which was good. He headed down the hall and listened at the door that led upstairs, but could still hear no-one bustling about. In his experience people liked rising late in hotels, which made check out times one of life’s great frustrations, but hey, he didn’t make the rules. He returned to the kitchen. The coffee was ready. He filled his own mug then the Styrofoam one before heading into the dark, still bar. He placed the cups on the bench and opened the trapdoor that led down to where the kegs were kept. The pillows he’d taped to the underside were still in place, albeit hanging a little loosely. He’d have to see to that. He picked up the two cups and, carefully, made his way down the stairs into the dark. He stopped at the bottom, listening. Nothing. Using a knuckle, he flicked on a light, as he did calling ‘rise and shine!’
Jayden blinked in the sudden glare, slowly sitting up. As he did every morning he tugged at the ropes, but they held firm. Norm had been in the scouts and the metal pipe was strong.
He brought the two cups over and placed the Styrofoam one just in front of Jayden – he’d have to stretch to get it, but a bit of exercise would do the kid good. He’d gotten a little chubby before the drugs wore him down to nothing. Twenty and he looked ancient. There was enough slack in the rope for him to reach the cup. Norm backed away but Jayden didn’t try to kick and when he picked up the coffee he didn’t toss it in Norm’s face. Progress.
‘How’d you sleep?’ Norm asked.
Sitting among the kegs, Jayden gave him a withering look. Norm supposed it was cruel to surround an addict with booze he couldn’t drink, but to be fair it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to keep him.
Norm took a sip of his own coffee. ‘Want the TV on?’
Jayden’s response was a raised middle finger. Norm wished he’d figured out a way to tie that finger down as well, but given it was the one part of his son that got any exercise, it probably had the best chance of getting loose.
‘TV or no TV?’ Norm said. ‘Do that again and it’ll be none.’
Jayden grunted and drank. Figuring that was the best he was going to get, Norm went over and turned on the TV, placed on an empty keg with an extension lead trailing off into the shadows.
‘Maybe they’ll report me missing,’ Jayden said.
‘Steady on, it’s only been a week.’
‘Dad, come on. No gear for a week. It’s done. Let me go–’
‘So you can make up for lost time? Not bloody likely.’
For a moment they drank their coffee and didn’t speak as they watched the morning news. With a pang, Norm remembered how Jayden would always complain as a kid that they were watching the news instead of whatever kids’ shows were on in the morning. Norm had told him that not getting what he wanted would build character.
‘They’ll have to vote him out after this,’ Norm said as another news story ended. ‘The bloke’s a muppet.’
Jayden said nothing. Norm glanced back at him. Those hollow eyes were still full of hatred. Norm deflated a little.
‘Well, I’ll be down a little later with some lunch, unless there’s anything else you want to say.’
Jayden drank his coffee.
Norm headed back up the stairs, hoping as always for Jayden to call something out. It wasn’t that Norm knew what he wanted to hear, not exactly, but he figured he’d know when he did. I love you Dad. I’m sorry. I forgive you.
He shut the trap door. Unsteady for a moment, he leaned on the bar.
He finished his coffee and made another one. He returned to the hall and listened again at the door. Nothing. He went upstairs.
He normally didn’t like disturbing guests before they were ready, but there were other things he could do rather than wait around to find out if they wanted breakfast. He knocked at the room the girl was staying in. Silence. Another knock. Nothing. He moved on to the room the Dad had taken. Knocked. Nothing.
Norm stepped back. Weird. Either they were all heavy sleepers, or they’d all already left. If the Dad was gone the son must be as well, but he moved up to his room anyway. Knocked. Knocked again. Called out ‘anyone up?’ One more knock then he tried the door. It was unlocked.
He stepped inside. The smell of copper hit him. He saw the blood immediately. Drenching the foot of the uncovered bed. Still bright red. Still wet. Too much of it to dry yet.
He opened his mouth to speak but wasn’t sure what he was going to say or to who. He moved a little closer. Checked the floor even though he knew already nobody was there. Then the blood. Jesus, there was a lot of it. The mattress would be ruined. Quite a bit was on the carpet too.
What the hell had happened here? Had the kid done something to himself? Maybe the Dad had taken him to a hospital. But then, why the foot of the bed?
He hurried down the hall. Opened the door to the Dad’s room. Empty, the bed made. He went on to the girl’s room. Also empty. She wasn’t travelling with them, she had come later. There’d been no connection. But she was gone too.
He pulled out his mobile. He’d call the local doctor, see if anything had come through. Then maybe…
He lowered his phone.
Maybe the doctor would know what had happened. But then, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d call the cops. Maybe Norm should. But then they’d search the place.
Was it really any of his business, whatever had gone on here? Everyone had left, after all. If the kid had done something silly, then clearly the Dad didn’t need Norm’s help with anything. Maybe he’d want to keep it quiet. Deal with the issue as a family. Fair enough, really. Everybody these days tried to make other people’s problems their own.
He returned to the room with the blood. Lifted the mattress. There was a dark shading to the bottom, but nothing a sheet and a mattress protector wouldn’t hide. Saved him having to explain to the missus why he was buying a new one. Although he would have to ask her how to get stains out of the carpet. She’d be annoyed, tell him some people had to be turned away, that he needed to get better at recognising the bad eggs. Bit rich, given Jayden could do nothing wrong in her eyes. She probably wouldn’t even thank him when he brought their son home, clean and sober and ready to apologise. But, he supposed, that was being a father. Doing the ugly work and never being thanked for it. He touched the blood. Still damp. He’d wait a little until it was dry before he flipped the mattress.