One of the conventions when writing a novel is that there should be conflict. The conflict is usually between the main characters. The cliché is conflict between a man and a woman. After the conflict, they make up and live happily ever after. OK, don’t fret, there will be conflict between the man and the woman. I’m not sure that they will make up and live happily ever after. You will have to wait and see.
However, my story is set in the forests of a south-western Australian timber town, between the 1970s and 2022, so the obvious conflict for me is the one between the conservation movement and many of the locals who depended on the timber industry for work. The classic novel, Working with Bullocks, by Katherine Suzanna Pritchard describes the timber industry in the early days. The forests were vast, and the forest giants were fell by axes and hand-held cross-cut saws. However, before long the unique ecosystems were devoured with greater speed and efficiency, with the help of machines and technology.
From a young age, I was part of the conservation movement but I only became seriously involved when we started clear-felling our ancient karri forests to turn the trees into woodchips, sent to Japan, to be made into paper. This is the same Japan, if I remember rightly that had declared over 70% of their sacred forests untouchable. What about our sacred forests?
So, this is my conundrum. My fictional family are part of a rural timber community that they love. Do I make at least one of them sympathise with the so-called greenies. One of my main characters is a greenie of sorts. He is an environmental scientist specialising in mycology. Certainly, room for a juicy bit of conflict there. But what of my protagonist. She’s a local from way back. That could prove more complicated.
When researching the conservation movement, I came across this short article that brought back many memories about the history of the conservation movement.
