Introducing: The Writer John Walter
By: John Walter
Tags: Storytelling, Writing, Writer, Biography, Improvisation

BIO FOR ILLUMINATION

Also the musician, storyteller, father, husband, cyclist and much else.

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I am many things. I identify as a creative person. I have “done” lots of things in my life. It has been quite a roller coaster ride so far, and I have no reason to suppose it is going to let up any time soon.

Two years ago, I lost my 28 yr old daughter to suicide. It has knocked me for six. I picked up the telephone to receive the news, and as I replaced the receiver, my life changed forever.

Within days I had signed up to train as a counsellor. I now exist in a world where people around me are continually examining and exploring their lives and motivations. I can live no other way.

Writing has become part of my journey and one of the tools to keep me alert in my process to continue in a purposeful life.

Growing up:

By the seaside in a big house with a massive garden. Lots of siblings, lots of relatives visiting and camping on the lawn. Lots of noise and chaos. Occasionally Bishops coming to tea. I retreated to my room and played my guitar, wrote songs and read books I couldn’t understand because I liked the feel of it.

Education:

It didn’t make sense. How could I reconcile an A++ for a piece of creative writing followed by 6 of the best for wearing pink socks? On the one hand, I was rewarded and encouraged in my creative pursuits. At the same time, I was doing it all wrong. I should be studying serious subjects that would get me a job.

A child of the ‘60s:

In other times I might have been diagnosed with gender dysphoria, but in the ’60s long hair, bells and flowery shirts were all part of being a teenage boy. My hero Jimi Hendrix was an icon of masculinity who wore flamboyant shirts with beads and necklaces. At 18, I grew a fluffy moustache so that people would stop calling me miss.

Kicked out of the house:

My mum did it very gently and subtly, but after failing almost everything at school and then spending the summer helping myself to the use of her car and lounging about aimlessly, she had come to the end of her tether.

I found myself in a bedsit in London with an electric guitar and an intention to make it big as a rock star.

The big-time that never really happened:

The reality was that I worked in a factory to pay my rent, and I had no connections in London. I was miserable. Slowly I made connections, married a beautiful young woman and found myself playing piano and synth in a good quality function band twice a week.

I discovered Jazz. I started devouring everything I could, borrowing vinyl records of Thelonious Monk and Miles Davis from Peckham Library. I went to workshops on Saturdays, rehearsals on Thursdays and attended two evening classes each week. I was obsessed with improvisation.

My wife left me. I crashed my cars. I crashed my life, and all my instruments were stolen. I had an affair with a married woman and drank continuously.

The Rescue:

My second wife got in contact through a mutual friend. She was on placement in London and knew no one. We both clung to each other. Within weeks my 8-year stint in London was over. I moved to Bristol to live with the love of my life and trained to be a teacher.

Jazz musician:

No more function band to distract me. I focused on playing jazz piano. It was an excellent way to earn extra money as a full-time student. The scene in Bristol was very vibrant, and for a few years, I was playing regularly with some fabulous musicians. I ran my own bands and composed all the music.

Family Life:

Teaching and raising a family was all-consuming, so I dropped Jazz from my life. I worked freelance as a storyteller. I ran storytelling workshops, I sang in choirs. I kept switching jobs trying to find the right fit eventually teaching music in a secondary school. I discovered African drumming and became obsessed with that. In 2000 I set up DrumCrazy which served me well until 2013 when the financial pressures became too much.

Empty Nest:

Both girls had left home, and I was playing Jazz again in low key local venues. We tried being Foster parents for a few years, but with no money coming in I reluctantly returned to teaching. I wrote a novel and hid it in a drawer.

A struggle bit:

We downsized, I hated teaching, I was miserable. We moved back to live by the beach. I got a brain tumour that rendered me deaf in one ear, and this was the excuse I needed to retire from teaching.

Then Holly took her life.

Now I write.

I am training to be a counsellor.

I play Jazz when I can.

I make Storytelling videos.

I love cooking.

I have pulled the novel out of the drawer and dusted it off.

It is like Holly’s death was a slap around the face. Like I was flailing about hysterically not knowing what to do with myself, and she made me stop.

I reconsidered everything.

It is like I was so busy worrying about what I should be doing that I wasn’t doing anything.

I have never been more content. I am a writer, counsellor, musician, storyteller, videographer. As well as all those things I wrote on my lizard.

Why a lizard?

Well, ten years ago, I wrote The Lizard Song for young children. It was my most successful youtube video totalling 150,000 views.

I like Lizards.