KRIS ASHTON

In early autumn of 2007 I was reading Chocky, a novel by one of my favourite authors, John Wyndham. In it, Wyndham described how one of his child characters grew up over the course of a summer and left his imaginary friend behind. It was a throwaway line, just a nifty image in a greater descriptive passage, but it blew my mind. How would that imaginary friend feel about being abandoned, I wondered? Left scared and alone for 20 long years? And what might happen if these former friends were reunited?

 

As the subsequent story spread itself out, I began to see a clear theme as well: You can't go home. It's an old adage, but it has held true time and time again in my life. As a nostalgic person, the bittersweet nature of nostalgia has often risen to the surface in my fiction, but it colours every word of 'Left Behind'. In particular, I tapped into memories of the coastal town where I holidayed as a youth, Nelson Bay, and the dismay I felt as it was developed and built out.
   
One last thing: I strive for originality in my stories above just about everything else and I think this is one of the most original ideas I've ever had. But I can only take half the credit. Thanks, Mr Wyndham.