My Partner in Curiosity: The Power of Writing Partnership

Writers are solitary beasts. We’re famed for being unsociable and irascible when we’ve got a new project and generally obsessed by whatever it is we’re writing about. For some of us, that’s just a great cover for avoiding unwelcome social engagements. For others, it’s part of the writing process, to become isolated and immersed in the world we’re creating.

That’s why developing a book with another person is often seen as something to be avoided. People interrupt your train of thought, question your brilliant ideas, challenge your beautifully crafted structure. Maybe I’m unusual as a writer, but that’s what I find so useful about working with other people – they make me uncomfortable.

Luca Lazzara, my Partner in Curiosity (I’m a writer, of course I find a clever title for our partnership), initiated the research for An Average Pilot by letting his inquisitive nature and bloody mindedness track down people and evidence. From seeing a faded image of a World War II biplane, upside down on a beach that he knew all too well, to realising the story of the mission as a book, was a long journey. I’ve been lucky enough to join him on the last leg of his quest.

Our initial conversation was about something completely different – coaching! I’m an executive coach, often working with veterans including pilots, and Luca wanted to explore how he could use coaching in the aviation industry, so he approached me for some training. It didn’t take long for him to share the collection of photographs, letters, logbooks, and stories that he’d gathered in his search to find out what had happened on Armistice Day 1941 to four Fairey Swordfish flying over Sicily. And it didn’t take long for me to be hooked on the story. Where Luca had found out the facts, I wanted to create the fiction. He provided me with the skeleton of a story and my curiosity wanted to step inside the fuselage of a Swordfish and re-imagine what happened between the crew that night. This is the joy of creative curiosity: you can go to times and places you would never be able to experience in your own life. I wasn’t born when this mission took place and, as a woman, I would never have been allowed to fly a Swordfish. But as a creative writer with a writing partner full of technical expertise to keep me on track, I can let my imagination recreate what might have happened. I can use first-hand accounts written by the men at the time, primary sources like logbooks and Royal Navy records, and the recollections of family members, as well as the copious amounts of research available from historians and museums. This gives as much authenticity as possible but I’m not a pilot so this is where my Partner in Curiosity comes into his own. He was able to work with me to explore whether the lighthouse on Cefalù could have attracted the pilots (we decided it probably didn’t), whether three pilots deliberately ditched at sea to avoid giving up radar equipment (we decided they probably did), and whether my understanding of the use and limitations of the new radar and telegraphy was correct (we decided it was passable).

Both my curiosity and Luca’s benefitted from the challenges of working together. He would check my assumptions about what it was like to fly at night, and I would query his views on how people feel in situations. He would gently remind me of details I’d forgotten, and I’d offer coffee and Amaretti to keep him talking. Working with a writing partner isn’t for everyone, but it works for me. I like to explore topics way beyond my knowledge and expertise but I like to do justice to the subject and the people. Working with a technical expert and a Partner in Curiosity gives my work the rigour, sensitivity and integrity that I couldn’t achieve on my own.

Bev Morris