Sarah Key's Blog: At the Keypad

Lord Byron said, ‘If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.’ By engaging in the act of writing, writers often identify and confront troublesome issues.

Much of what worries us is deep-seated in our subconscious mind and the only way to reach it is to make the time to delve into our depths. This takes courage and can be uncomfortable but writing is, undoubtedly, cathartic.

Vast research has been conducted into the benefits of so-called Expressive Writing - personal writing that encourages the writer to delve into emotions triggered by life experiences. This might take the form of journaling or blogging but aims to help people come to terms with who they are and how they perceive events and relationships.

Expressive Writing is a reflective tool. With reflection comes greater self-awareness and clarity. Our reactions to situations might need to be altered in some cases so that we can be the best version of ourselves

How does Expressive Writing lift writers’ moods and lead to positive change?

Emotionally intelligent people better understand their perceptions and feelings. Getting your thoughts down on paper, or on a screen using a keyboard, is a way to process and reflect on experiences, make sense of them and then decide how best to respond to them.

Our personal narratives shape our worldview but sometimes we have skewed perceptions, we interpret things incorrectly. By writing, and editing our stories, we can, possibly, change our opinion of ourselves and identify obstacles that stop us from developing to the best of our potential. Confronting possible truths, and considering different perspectives, create opportunities for change.

How to begin the writing process.

Commit: Understand this a challenging exercise. You cannot change what you don’t acknowledge. It is often difficult to pinpoint feelings and it takes courage to face less attractive aspects of ourselves. Some unresolved issues might be too painful to face alone and might require assistance from a trained professional.

Time and Setting: Set aside 20 minutes per day, for a minimum of four consecutive days. Choose a place where you are comfortable and will not be disturbed. If you run out of ideas before the allotted time, write down random thoughts.

Topic: Number one prize is to reflect on deeply personal or important topics/events.

Let it flow: Banish self-consciousness. Forget your high-school English teacher. Don’t worry about punctuation, spelling, and grammar. Write in prose or poetry or a mixture of both.

Write for yourself: You may destroy or hide what you write. Your words are for your eyes only, unless you choose to share them.

Feeling down is common after Expressive Writing, especially on the first day. This feeling usually goes away in an hour or two.

Harnessing the mysterious and powerful tool of writing has enormous therapeutic benefits. Writing, and critically reviewing one’s text, can shift people’s thinking from self-defeating to optimistic. This new-found positivity then reinforces itself and the psychological lift goes one. It is little wonder that some proponents consider Expressive Writing the cornerstone of health.

Time for us to shake the dust off our journals or get to the keypad.

I embark on a book, initially with two notions - the locale, or geographical journey fictitious people will take, and the setting of the final showdown. I work backwards from these points. Who can I people my stories with? Who can I bring to life to climb into the skins I will provide,?

Critical to the thriller is its cast of characters and I like large casts! Setting my novels in Southern Africa allows me to provide a window into the rich cultural diversity of our land. I utilise personalities with extremely varied histories, habits and experiences, in an attempt to expose readers to different perspectives.

I get to know my characters through the act of writing. I cook up a complex stew in which they simmer, revealing their personalities through actions, dialogue and reflections. Their psyches, secrets and desires reveal themselves in response to the story line, infusing, hopefully, distinct flavour.

Protagonists who are totally good are boring. Virtuous people are not that useful to thrillers. Predatory, unsavoury characters are generally active, busy in the seedy underworld. They bring energy and vigor to the tale. I try to evoke empathy for my villains, often products of their society, sometimes just downright depraved. One of the measures of my success is if readers connect with deeply flawed characters. This may not always make for a comfortable experience.

Leading actors in thrillers need to struggle with issues, possess weaknesses, give in to temptation, battle demons. They need to embark on a Hero’s Journey – a pattern of narrative that appears in drama, storytelling, religious ritual, psychological development and myth.

I pit my characters against the toughest of circumstances, requiring them to draw upon reserves of courage and fortitude in order to overcome… or not. Thrillers must provoke thought and carry messages. This is what, I believe, elevates the novel from entertaining to unforgettable.

The best thrillers stab the heart, throughout. They lure the reader into another world where, generally, players respond to dramatic situations. Readers get to experience the heightened emotions characters feel as they face peril and evil, in shady worlds.

Pacing is vital and switching POVs effectively can really move a story forward. All action and reactions described must advance the plot so that readers continue to turn the pages unable to predict conclusions.

As the story finds its shape and gathers speed, I occasionally find that I have written write myself into a corner and am then forced to deal with conundrums. Raymond Chandler advises writers: When things slow down, bring in a man with a gun. Metaphorically, this means introducing action or a change of plot direction to shake things up.

Setting my novels against spectacular backdrops such as Table Mountain, the mighty Zambezi River and the ghetto of Hillbrow enables me to introduce adventure and atmosphere. The final book in my Sisters of Light trilogy uses the Garden Route coastline as its locale. This allowed me to introduce smuggling operations, jump ship sailors, fishermen and boating adventures, not to mention family secrets, racism and of course, lots of corpses!

Through my tales, I hope to leave my readers with a deeper understanding of the human condition and the socio/historical impact of the unique history of South Africa.

Novels in the thriller genre should be electric and skilfully constructed to ensure that readers constantly feel the current and mounting voltage. The finale should pull-out-all-the-stops, forcing readers to hold their breath with heroes on seemingly impossible missions. This is why we love thrillers – they evoke suspense, excitement, speed and movement in a visceral, gut-churning way. We go along for the perilous, heart-stopping, nail-biting ride, but, luckily from the safety of our armchairs.

Over the course of the four (and a half) psychological thrillers I have written, I have created a smorgasbord of characters.

Being a hopeless planner when it comes to writing books, I embark on a novel, frighteningly, with only two notions - the locale or geographical journey fictitious people will take, and the setting of the showdown (the final place where all characters, shadowy outlines if conceived at all, will somehow find themselves). Backdrops before the final curtain falls have included the flatlands of Hillbrow, the blockhouse on the charred the slopes of Table Mountain and a bridge spanning the mighty Zambezi River.

So I work backwards from these points. Who can I people my stories with? Who can I bring to life to climb into the skins I will provide, and speak their evolving (or devolving minds)?

My stand-alone debut novel, 'Tangled Weeds', hinged around men so I’d overdosed on testosterone. The Sisters of Light trilogy is set in southern Africa over the course of four and a half months from late 1988-1989. The books track the exploits of four complex women.

The female characters were fun to flesh out. I began with the premise that they were young women on personal journeys to adulthood who attempted to gain clearer understanding of themselves and extend - and in some cases find - forgiveness.

I needed strong personalities who would act as glue to hold the trilogy together as I subjected them to heart-stopping peril and evil. I drew traits, quirks and physical attributes from women I’d known in my days as a student at the University of Cape Town. I filled the gaps using my imagination.

Honey Essack took shape first. I could still remember the smells in the cheap and delicious eatery we frequented in Salt River more than two and a half decades before so her parents would own the Curry Leaf Restaurant. I gave her a part-time job working nightshift, manning the morgue at Groote Schuur Hospital while waiting to enrol in nursing school. I had an idea for a hair-raising scene in this setting. I began to picture Honey revving her motorbike in her trademark high-tops her almond eyes flashing when angry.

Honey muscled her way into my consciousness yet I was somewhat flummoxed when she demanded to have a gift - psychic premonition. Later I traced the origins of this idea back, possibly, to the fact that I was a child of the radio. We only got a tv when I was 12 and one of the serials I grew up listening to was ‘The Mind of Tracy Dark.’ Tracy could see into the future.

The Sisters took their forms – egotistical Flash Peterson, a final year music student and singer in a rock band was the child of a priest, and Honey’s older cousin. As cape coloureds, hailing from the Flats, they used colourful language and had a world view that starkly contrasted the others’. Flash’s brother, Derek, in a later adventure gets caught up in gang life and takes a trans-national trip that alters his life.

Joanie Parks was introduced as a somewhat carefree nanny partying it up in London. Bits of this I draw from my own experiences but Joanie harboured a dark secret. Only when she returns to Chistlehurst Manor, the hotbed of secrets and crushing betrayals, did I begin to work out what Joanie could have done that could have been so shameful.

Petra Montgomery, Joanie’s life-long friend is a rich kid battling an eating disorder who seeks her father’s love and attention. Petra was loosely modelled on my brother’s then-girlfriend and her disease was anchored in the pictures of anorexics that I pored over in my father’s psychology books when I was a teen.
Joanie and Petra grew up in Zambia, where my mother’s family came from. I embellished memories and stories of colonial southern Africa that I’d heard such as the scandals of the White Mischief set. From childhood I regularly visited my aunt who lived her whole life in Lusaka.

Whilst the female protagonists develop longitudinally, each book utilises different geography and I can, thus, introduces a range of new players in each book.

In ‘The Dandelion Clock’ the diverse cast traverses Cape Town. I included a serial killer and a bumbling assassin but in my mind’s eye I pictured Helene, my Bergie, tramping the rainy mountain side muttering to herself. Homeless is something witnessed in all the cities. Characters I craft are often inspired by the real-life people I see. I encountered a hunchback beggar frequently for a period. In ‘The Butterfly Wind’ my enchantress, Siango’s spine curves like a crescent moon.

I worked in the arena of adult education and activism for nearly 15 years and promoting social justice remains important to me. ‘Tangled Weeds’ was written as I attempted to process, and understand better, profoundly disturbing social problems. Aden is addicted to crack cocaine. Mandipa is a vulnerable Zimbabwean whose increasing spiral of vulnerability results in her becoming a victim of human trafficking. Daphne attempts to escape poverty and oppression at the hands of her brother as she discovers her sexual orientation.

The novel I am currently working on highlights the hardships of rural girls in patriarchal societies and violence against women. Trending news reports infiltrate my consciousness. Recently, numerous shocking incidents of femicide have rooted themselves in my heart and brain. Further characters are born to expose the plight of the downtrodden and the blights in the society in which I live and operate.

Southern Africa is both breathtakingly beautiful and profoundly disturbing. Writing about it also allows me to provide a window into the rich cultural diversity and folk lore of our land. In ‘The Starlight Tide’, Shafiek Malgas is half San bushman/half coloured. Helene’s memories are infused with her oupa’s splendid myths and legends of the Cape. ‘Tangled Weeds’ introduces Mojaji, the Rain Queen, and superstitions and cultural beliefs of the Basotho people, including ethnographic accounts of circumcision school and other important themes.

I work hard to, hopefully, encourage my readers to see the world through a variety of cultural perspectives so that they possibly become more tolerant. People are products of their environments and experiences. Very seldom is anyone purely good or evil. It is, perhaps, not always a comfortable journey but as Albert Camus put it, ‘Fiction is the lie that tells the truth.’ I, as an author, feel the need to attempt to present social reality in the more palpable guise of fiction.

So I get to know my characters through the act of writing. I cook up a complex stew in which my characters simmer, revealing their personalities through actions, dialogue and reflections. Their psyches, secrets and desires reveal themselves at their own pace and in response to the storyline, infusing distinct flavour.

The process is still mysterious to me and lodged in my subconscious. It is, at times, exhilarating, and at others excruciating. It requires discipline and many, many hours at the keyboard but it is, there is no doubt, magical and fulfilling. It is, for this season of my life, the only thing I want to do.

To be a writer I am of the firm opinion that one also needs to be reader. We are members of a storytelling species. We tell tales and we like to hear them told. Reading feeds writing and vice versa. In order to appreciate your own craft, it helps to consider others’ and reading is so wonderfully relaxing and enjoyable.

So, reading and writing are two supreme human abilities. Prose is something you build up from twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks – amazing, not so? Using your brain and imagination, reading and writing allows us to create worlds apart from reality and people them. You get to feel things, visit places and worlds you would never otherwise know. Reading is a lifeline to all that is other. You can observe the action on the stage from the wings, unseen yet totally present.

Imaginative storytelling expands our scope of the possible. Fiction in human life introduces us to different versions of the world and thus, allows us to envision possibilities. People are driven by different motivational forces, they have extremely varied habits and make-up. Their reactions and responses to failure and triumph are deeply personal and unique.This is perhaps why Galileo saw reading as a way of having superhuman powers. Carl Sagan held it as “proof that humans are capable of working magic.”

Neil Gaiman, acclaimed English author, has profound insights into the power that reading stories possesses. He asserts that stories are good for changing us. Books can point us in different directions and teach us lessons. They can help us articulate our own emotions or thoughts and allow us find to our own voice because reading boosts our confidence and shows us alternative ways. Books can lift us when we need inspiration.

A major function of literature is its ability to increase tolerance. How is this achieved? I believe it is by drawing readers into the mind of characters and enabling them to view the world through another’s eyes.

As with any good conversation, when you read you do a lot of listening. The writer imparts facts, theories, points of view, emotions. I write psychological thrillers and have a fascination with aberrant mind. I have learned to reveal my character’s personalities through actions, dialogue and reflections that let you into their psyches and allow you to share their secrets and desires.

In my novels I work hard to present multiple perspectives from a range of characters diverse in culture across the rich context of African life.

Books provide social commentary and highlight social injustice. They have spurred personal and political movements. They should, without preaching and getting on a soap box, give voices to the marginalised and powerless. They are important tools that can be used to foster civic responsibility.

Fiction is the lie that tells the truth and I feel writers have an obligation to write about real relevant experiences. In this way, readers, listeners and writers come to understand that truth is not about what happens, but about how we react and behave, for these responses reveals our true natures.

Reading and writing allow us to access our emotions and to explore the myriad sentiments that make us human. Often our feelings are vague, undefined, swirling in some inaccessible place because we do not have time or ability to unpack and understand them. No matter what colour or creed we are all part of the family of mankind. Reading reminds us that we not alone.

Through my tales I hope to leave my readers with a deeper understanding of the human condition. I try to evoke empathy, draw readers in to connect with characters especially those who are deeply flawed. To be moved means that we are emotionally aware and this form of intelligence, EQ, allows us to understand others’ pain. Empathy and emotional connection allows us to function as more than self-obsessed individuals. For these reasons, Rebecca Solnit asserted that “a book is a heart that beats in the chest of another.”

It is easy to feel that nobody can change anything, that we are only powerless individuals in society, and yes, those needing enlightening usually don’t read. But the truth is, individuals change their world over and over, individuals make the future, and they start to do it by imagining that things can be different.

Southern Africa is an intriguing place. The iconic bushveld is home to species such as zebra, giraffe and elephant and the silhouettes of these animals can be seen breaking the skyline above the treetops below a seemingly never-ending expanse of sky. At dusk and dawn bird calls herald pastel hues before fiery oranges and reds add another dimension to the magical picture. This is the wilderness, one that attracts visitors from all corners of the world.

The setting of a story does much to pique a reader’s interest and add a mixture of curiosity and wanderlust. Settings create moods for a writer, provide the physical environment for action and influence characters’ choices and experiences. They are the canvas upon which the tale is painted. Amazing Africa is a continent that is both breathtakingly beautiful and profoundly disturbing, so, as a South African writer, I have the advantage of drawing upon extraordinary locales in which to set my psychological thrillers.

A smattering of dramatic natural beauty on offer within this geographical photo-frame include Cape Town’s Table Mountain and its rugged coastlines, Zimbabwe’s Victoria Falls and fertile farmlands, and Zambia’s floodplains and national parks.

It is the gritty past and the evolution of the cities and towns in the southern-most part of the continent, however, that provide complex and fascinating socio-cultural aspects to draw from. The unique history of the southern African countries shaped their development. Skillfully using tension and discordance that arise from the particular historical footprint of a place can heighten dramatic action and add enthralling depth.


The scars of the legacy of Apartheid - a system of racial segregation enforced in South Africa through legislation from 1948-1994 - remain clearly visible as blights on urban regions. Townships, demarcated for Black people, are still shameful dirty, dusty shanty towns with poor sanitation, no electricity and insufficient water supplies.

The city centre and surrounds of Johannesburg - the biggest city in South Africa and its economic heartbeat - resemble urban slums. Hillbrow, a once trendy and Bohemian flatland, is a dangerous and filthy No-Go Zone in which drugs and sex are pedaled. Tourists are warned to avoid the area.

Land reclamation in Zimbabwe was intended to alter the ethnic balance of land ownership and targeted white Zimbabweans of European descent. Many productive sugarcane, coffee, cotton and tobacco fields now lie barren and neglected as farmers were driven from their beloved land, often killed, by so-called ‘war-veterans’ ridding the country of colonial oppressors.

South Africa is often described as ‘the Rainbow Nation' when varied ethnic groups were encouraged to unite once a democratic system came into existence in 1994. As a former academic, I taught at a university for a decade and travelled the country working in the devastating arena of HIV and AIDS training. On my journeys I gathered narratives on a range of sensitive issues such as male circumcision and sexual abuse.

In my novels, I provide insights into a range of social issues across cultures in the rich context of African life. A partly ethnographic approach aims to break down taboos and get readers to think about matters by wrapping them in the guise of fiction. I hope that, by considering events through the specific perspectives of characters, readers will become more inclusive and tolerant of traditional cultures and ethnic practices different from their own.

Brief overview of each of my books

My debut novel, Tangled Weeds, is set between Zimbabwe, the fertile farmlands of the then Northern Province of South African known for its cultivation of fruit such as mangoes and litchis, and Hillbrow, an urban slum.

My second book, The Dandelion Clock, the first in a trilogy, uses Cape Town as the set for the production. From dodgy docks, to pristine beaches, to the rugged footpaths of Table Mountain with its tablecloth of clouds and a strong South Easter blowing, this city delivers mood, magic and madness. On the charred slopes of Devil’s Peak on Spring Equinox, the final act plays out.


The Butterfly Wind is a mover. From Cape Town to Harare, Zimbabwe to Lusaka, the capital city of Zambia, adventures abound. Ride the rapids of the Zambezi River, hear the roar of the Victoria Falls and bungie jump with Derrick off the railway bridge into the majestic Batoka Gorge. Feel Joanie’s anxiety when she returns to Chistlehurst Manor outside Lusaka and the house, like an indefatigable archivist, digs out and presents disturbing memories from its annals.

In my novels, I attempt to present Southern Africa with its blends of old and new, mystical and modern, city and country. I work hard to write in a gripping graphic fashion so that readers feel they are breathing in the dust of the country and experiencing the scorching heat of the African sun. To me there is no better setting than this extraordinary, brutal, unique land.

‘Read to me,’ she mumbled. Her words grow more and more incoherent - transient ischaemic attacks interrupting blood flow to the brain? I’m no doctor and her geriatrist describes her condition as ‘malaise and fatigue.’
She’s on the sofa, a bag of bones, stretched out to accommodate her broken hip like a traitor on a stretching rack. In her eyes her moods change, patterns in a kaleidoscope. Time stands still as the clock ticks on.
She is surrounded by her works of art, landscapes of Zambia, her home until last year, and portraits of black men. Her loyal servant holds a peacock feather and the town loon brandishes his homemade gun. Her art is a testament to her individuality and hard work. Beginning to draw at four, she did not ever have an art lesson. A Fellow of the Royal Society of Artists, she received a M.B.E and could have met the Queen but turned down the opportunity as The Beatles were awarded the same honour that year.
In the book case her novels, short stories and histories of life in the past share space with bronzes of animals and shields acknowledging her contribution to promoting local artists. ‘Keep writing,’ she told me a while ago. I tucked the encouragement into my heart like a schoolgirl hiding a secret note.
And so we ‘[slip] the surly bonds of Earth.’ Her coverless Treasury of Verse, in three parts has lost its index and is unnavigable. We pass Wordsworth, Keats and Yeats. I tumble down the rabbit hole to university days and English exams I didn’t studied hard enough for.
She agrees that the selection of poems is not obvious. For Lawrence there is no snake at the water-trough so we settle for Bavarian Genetians with their Plutonian gloom. ‘Campbell,’ she recognises as the unearthly horses of the Camargue foam at the rein. We read some of the war poets - Wilfred Owen’s Anthem for Doomed Youth, Siegfried Sassoon and Kipling. ‘Barny knew all the Kipling,’ she tells me.
It was de la Mare she requested from the start with a raspy, ‘Is there anybody there? Said the traveller, knocking on the moonlit door.’ Her lips struggle but her eyes dance and not with dementia. Her facial muscles relax.
‘I’ll bring my anthology when I come on Thursday,’ I promise as I kiss her goodbye.
‘Don’t forget.’ I hear as I slip away.