A British writer walks into North America...

The following is an excerpt from my Substack, Myriatid. You can read it over there or here... it's very much up to you!

Firstly, my deepest apologies.

I was about to write that I'd been remiss with my Myriatid posts, but that doesn’t come close to covering it. I have been unforgivably absent from Substack; a fact that can be explained by (worst case) laziness and (best case) lack of inspiration.

I’m deciding to go with the latter. You can, of course, draw your own conclusion.

So, the catalyst for my creativity chasm? I’m actually not sure. I suppose I can put it down to a few things: the editing of my latest manuscript which has taken place over the last couple of months, the submission of this manuscript, the awaiting of news, the secret release of another novel in a new genre under a nom de plume...

Trinity Hall backs, Cambridge: a good place for a walk.

All this takes up space, particularly the space that chases silly, eccentric, nebulous, yet sometimes interesting, opinions. Nothing’s yet signed on the dotted line, but I’m cautiously excited about a publishing contract offer, plus, the secret book is now on pre-order. Which means my brain has a bit of room. Which means it’s been wandering again. And last week, it wandered (in the most meta way possible) into the topic of walking.

Walking has been a source of inspiration for many writers. Perhaps most notably, Charles Dickens is reported to have walked twelve miles per day before breakfast. I have always loved a good walk. It is, second only to a nap, one of my favourite ways to de-stress and demystify.

Before we continue, we must distinguish the difference between a hike and a walk. This is particularly pressing given that I currently live in North America, where ambulatory terminology is employed fast and loose:

A hike suggests purposeful movement. You might drive to get to the start of a hike. It demands pace of sort, or at least an effort towards it. It contains minimal pavements (that’s sidewalks for the North Americans), and a pub or a restaurant only at its extremities (the beginning or the end).

A walk can have some purpose, but it must contain some element of spontaneity. Its inception must be at your front door. The only exception to this is if you have been out for lunch, or dinner, or something similar, and decide to walk afterwards (although, this is erring dangerously close to stroll territory, careful). A walk must include pavements majoritively, and you may pass as many pubs, cafes, and municipal delights as you like.*

A hike’s purpose is intrinsic: to hike. A walk’s purpose is a little more flimsy, and a lot more cerebral.

There’s plenty I miss about living in the U.K., but a good walk probably tops the lot. Everywhere I have lived back home has made for very different, but equally invigorating walking routes. The backs, the grassy plains, the bridges, the stirring architecture of Cambridge. The restless grey to brick to green to grey of London. The ancient woods of the Highlands, leading into historic stone villas and pubs flanked with whisky barrels.

Now, Canada has a lot to offer and there is plenty I love about living here, but walking is tricky. This is something that I’ve found near-impossible to explain to friends here. I can’t seem to convey the significance of this aimless activity.

A large reason for this has got to be the cars. Most towns in Canada were built for automobiles, not humans. Therefore, there are swathes of suburbia here that don’t have pavements/sidewalks at all.

I think another explanation might be a fundamental difference in collective attitude. In a recent conversation with a Canadian friend, she said how the philosophy behind building planning in North America came down to one thing: profitability. I don’t think this is the case in much of Europe. Sure, building developers want to make a profit too, but they must work around protected landscapes, ancient buildings, medieval churches etc.

To put it bluntly, there is more to wonder at whilst you wander in the U.K.

I’m not silly enough to draw too bold a comparison between Canada and the U.S. in the current climate, but the recent Guardian article What does Maga-land look like? Let me show you America’s unbeautiful suburban sprawl struck a deep chord with me. Here, the all-too-familiar strip malls stuffed with chain after chain restaurants and parking lots are described as decidedly “not beautiful”. These areas, which take up much of the space here, are not fruitful stomping grounds for the seasoned walker… they’re actually not walkable at all.

So, what’s all this to say? Is it just a weak excuse for my laziness? Am I suggesting that, if only I had some beautiful walking routes nearby, then I would be much more creative? Possibly.

However, after I format this article, I’m popping my trainers on. Perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Perhaps a walk is in the mind of the walker, after all.

I shall report back.

*definitions plucked with extreme objectivity – and without further interrogation – from the recesses of my mind.