Allowing my wairua to pick up the pen

The Spinoff

23-05-2025

Writer Shelley Burne-Field on leaving the angst behind and letting her wairua drive her stories for young people.
I suspect my brain sloshes around in my skull in a much too orderly fashion. It requires everything in its particular place and has daily duels with creativity. It can overthink, swell with ego or meekness, getting tighter than Elon's laminated cheeks – and just as functionally useless. I really need to relaaaaaax more.
When writing stories, this overly stretched brain sometimes bumps my wairua off course. I may have a story idea but there is no soul connection to the characters, the setting, the time or plot.
And that's a problem. Too much brain and not enough soul. To write a halfway decent story, I've discovered my brain needs to take a seat in the jacuzzi and just chill for a few magical hours. My wairua will pick up the pen when it's ready to rock.
Thankfully, my children's novels seem to flow directly from that wairua. When I write for tamariki I know it's all going to be OK when I laugh and cry with the characters – just like a little tamaiti. I know the readers will enjoy a rip-roaring story that allows them to feel something.
Kimi the Kekeno's Big Adventure, my new novel, arrived in my imagination fully formed. I wrote it in a few weeks. Sometimes that happens. Both the story and soul were in the flow. My brain was sitting back having a soak.
Kimi is about four young New Zealand kekeno / fur seals who swim off on a sea adventure up the east coast of the lower North Island to find their dreams. Along the way Kimi asks himself 'What's my dream?' Even as they battle sharks, conger eels, and learn to hunt and fish – the kekeno are chasing their dreams. But what happens if you don't have one?
I've found that kids like being surprised. They crave exciting action and chase scenes. They want the story to blossom into something so cool they can't wait to read or listen to the next few pages. I also understand what a lifeline a story can be.
We all know that stories can resonate. They may be a talisman, arriving just when we need it. This can happen whether the story comes packaged in a book or a movie or a television programme or out of someone's mouth. For me it was Charlotte's Web and Under the Mountain and The Hobbit and Star Trek and Watership Down. I want to write stories like those – that discovers something on the tip of your tongue. Something you can't quite explain, but the tingle of humanity and aroha lingers.
I've gravitated to helping young people all my life. My early life was challenging and surrounded by alcoholism, neglect and abuse. As I grew up, I think I wanted to save every child out there. I would help nieces and nephews and their mates. Eventually I studied youth development and community development – and worked with vulnerable rangatahi in the community both here and in rural Queensland.
One of the biggest values I've carried through all the mahi is to respect young people. Respect that we may not know everything going on in their lives. Respect that they are savvy and know much more about life than we give them credit for. Respect that tamariki want a calm, wonderful life just like the rest of us. Respect that we don't have to solve rangatahi problems. Quite often they will solve their own issues – they simply need a shred of support to do it. Sometimes, all they need is to know they're not alone.
That's what my first book Brave Kāhu and the Pōrangi Magpie is really about. Not being alone. Whānau dynamics. Figuring out that you don't have to do everything on your own. And aroha. Always aroha. I started writing Brave Kāhu at the University of Auckland's Masters of Creative Writing degree. The workshops were the place that Poto, the main kāhu character, was hatched. The story grew and my wairua flew from there. And something worked because once the story was published and released, I received the most wonderful feedback from tamariki.
Rangatahi and teachers at secondary schools have also been sending me letters. This shook my soul at first. I didn't think that articles and short stories about racism, alcoholism and language trauma would be read by teenagers or set for NCEA level projects! Their responses are life-changing. Each time, their questions, insights and emotional maturity amazes me. Each time, I find it hard to believe something had resonated. Had those stories really made a difference?
I can't take all the credit. I know tīpuna influence my wairua and help guide my typing fingers. Is it those layers of wairua embedded into an issue or carved into a character that make these stories strike a chord in these young readers? I don't know how it works, but somehow there is a connection. I'm learning to celebrate that.
Here are some questions and comments (abridged for length) from young people. Most are from students at Western Springs College. These moments make me proud to be an author.
'As a young Māori wāhine, none of the texts we've read this term had made me emotional. However, the way you presented the characters' emotions and casual racism infuriated me. You did a fantastic job conveying the text's tone and making it so passionate.
'I wondered how you discovered that you wanted to be a writer? I am curious and interested in being a writer myself.'
'I liked that 'Pinching out Dahlias' made me think about the position of protagonists in stories, the unfair bias in Aotearoa's education system, people in positions of power, and how people nowadays can get stuck in a metaphorical echo chamber with the people around them.'
'The statistic you provided in 'The grind of racism' about suicide in Hawke's Bay left me heartbroken. I think about that stat almost every day. As sad as it may make me feel, I still believe that with people like you bringing awareness to this injustice, one day Māori and Pasifika kids' lives will be valued just the same as everybody else's.'
'I want to explain my appreciation for your text ('Pinching out Dahlias'). The story wasn't like anything I had read before. As a Māori-Pasifika person myself, I would guess that it is not easy to put yourself so deeply into the perspective of someone Pākehā. Did you feel any unease around writing the text? I know that I'd be a nervous wreck writing something like this, and despite these possibly discouraging factors, I personally feel that you got the perspective on point.'
'While I am not of Māori or Pasifika descent and can't identify with the examples that specifically address Māori or Pasifika culture, I am of Sri Lankan descent and I have been affected by racism – it is something I can personally relate to.'
'Your stories spoke to me. 'Pinching out Dahlias' was almost awkward to read because of how many times I have seen those close to me act in ways similar to Dora and her friends. I also read your follow-up piece, A Tree Full Of Rubies. They are inspiring and have helped to shift my mind further away from the Westernised way of thinking that has been ingrained in me throughout my life.'
'Being of Māori descent and living in a family who do struggle with staying away from alcohol both of these texts really resonated with me. I know that breaking free from alcohol's embrace was based on your personal experience. Please know that your writing has been invaluable to me and many others who have dealt with racism. It's always good to know that you're not the only one experiencing it, and it's also great to know that alcoholism can be overcome with time and effort.'
Voices like these can change a writer's life. It tells me that occasionally some stories might find a sweet connection: a portal between ideas; a space to share wairua. A story can change someone else's life. A friend once told me that writing can be rongoā. Auē! That's why I write for kids, teens, and adults, too. If a story, fiction or non-fiction, can help one reader feel that they aren't alone in this world – then I'm one happy kaituhituhi.
In the future, I hope my brain takes many a warm dip in the jacuzzi, puts all the angst and overthinking aside, and allows my wairua to pick up the pen and keep writing stories.