Well, two new stories.

The truly important one needs to be authored by us, humanity, if we are to avoid ecological collapse on the planet we share.

This story is the new societal success story that, collectively, we must choose, because a ‘more-me-now’ game plan for a social species on a finitely-resourced ‘living’ planet must have an expiry date.

Worryingly (given the number and scale of our crises, and the near-universal awareness of them), societal change still seems impossible.

Promisingly, despite having pondered and analysed the (many) impediments for decades, I am yet to identify one that is insurmountable.

So, I am writing my own (simple, hopeful, practical) story to enable enough of us to get on the same page about humanity-level matters. Species stuff. Stuff we don’t think about, or have any mechanisms for beyond a few organisations and events, like the United Nations and the Olympic Games, respectively, that are universal in spirit, at least.

Almost universally, we are divided.

So, it’s time for a team talk.

It’s time for a new story.

…more to come.

Update: 3 September 2025

A summary of my story is now published at samepagefoundation.org. Please, have a read, and sign-up for notifications of the full manifesto. We can do this.

If you’ve read my article Introducing William Henry, you’ll already know about the genesis of my fiction pen name.

I used the name for my debut novel (The Julian Calendar) in honour of my dear friend, John Garmonsway, who helped me to write the first draft back in 1992–93. My middle name is William, his is Henry, and he was in every way the inspiration for the novel. The story is about him; about us. He was my soulmate, and today is the second anniversary of his death on 23 May 2018. He was 89.

I love the name William Henry, and I loved the idea of John being alongside me on the cover and spine of every novel. But commercial realities have forced my plans to change, and I know John, an accomplished bookseller, would have understood and supported my decision. This is why today is the right day to farewell William Henry.

What’s changed?

Well, as John would say, it’s nothing flash, it’s just business.

The cold reality is that it will be easier (or, more accurately, just slightly less insanely difficult) to open-up The Julian Calendar and future novels to commercially-viable overseas markets by writing under my own name. This is because I already have a modest but steadily-growing profile as a consultant and non-fiction author. The advice I received last year from industry experts was clear and consistent: my non-fiction books can lead readers to my novels, and publicity (a crucial ingredient for book store sales) is much, much easier to gain for non-fiction books. In other words, Simon Hertnon the novelist can piggy-back off Simon Hertnon the non-fiction author.

This was always likely to be the case so, while I still feel wistful about the shift, it’s not disappointing. It just is.

What’s next?

I’m sharing this news here because I know the small but passionate group of readers who have read and enjoyed The Julian Calendar naturally want to know what’s happening next.

Unfortunately, until I can secure a worthwhile international publishing deal (something extraordinarily rare for any novelist, let alone a New Zealand novelist), there is really no point continuing to publish novels – at least not as physical books. And until I find that publisher, I can’t even confirm which novel comes next. I had thought it would be one titled Par Avion, the first in a trilogy about lost letters, but a publisher might want something different. So, I am also chipping away at another novel that is the first in a series of six.

What happens to The Julian Calendar?

If you want to buy or recommend The Julian Calendar, the physical book will continue to be available in New Zealand until the 1000-copy first print run is sold out. We are unlikely to print more copies, so the first edition is looking like being a limited release. (Which means it may prove wise to hang on to a copy if you have one. I’ll certainly do my darnedest to make it a collectible!) Where to buy the book is still listed on this page.

I’m pleased to announce a digital book is again available in the form of a Kindle eBook from Amazon.com. The eBook hasn’t been available for the past year for two key reasons. First, the novel’s two-voice format best suits a physical book (using different fonts for each voice), and second, I wanted to preserve overseas sales for an international publishing partner. But I have decided to re-release the Kindle eBook for at least the duration of the pandemic response. My thinking is that in this strange time of social distancing, the novel’s first-person depiction of a loving and restorative friendship could provide readers with a welcome injection of social intimacy.

If you’re interested to learn why I can’t just publish more novels in New Zealand, keep an eye out for a future article on the issues and opportunities facing New Zealand novelists. Norms need to change and a possible pathway for transformation is steadily emerging, but it’s going to take a while.

Finally, I remain as delighted as ever that John’s voice will live on through Julian Marriot.

If I look ahead I see seasons untold: mine, his, ours.

I wanted to say to him, If you breathe, I breathe, but I didn’t need to. I didn’t need to tell him that spring is something you feel, no matter the time of year, or time of life. There is no order to emotion.

‘Julian Marriot’ – The Julian Calendar

John won’t be alongside me on every cover and spine, but he will remain alongside me in every other way.

More than ten years before I published Clear, Concise Compelling and Endangered Words, I attempted to establish myself as a novelist and screenwriter.

I was in my mid-20s, gorging on novels (like The Crow Road by Iain Banks) and films (like The Shawshank Redemption), but my first overwritten manuscript didn’t make the grade. More work would be needed.

Looking back, the timing wasn’t right, and not just because I needed to become a better writer. As my skills developed, my responsibilities grew and my free time diminished. I simply didn’t have the time needed to write and polish novels and screenplays ‘on spec’. Meanwhile, fiction readers were becoming distracted by a tsunami of digital content and gadgets, making selling traditional novels even harder than before.

Twenty-five years on, the time is right. Stories like mine – simple stories of love, loss, resolve, and redemption – are the ideal antidote to a digital malaise.

So, I would like to introduce you to William Henry – Simon as the novelist I think I was always destined to be.

My simple philosophy still permeates my fiction writing, but in a creative form, spiced with humour, adventure, and hard-fought triumphs.

William Henry, the pen name I will use for all my fiction, stems from the true-life story behind my first novel, The Julian Calendar, which I have published here in New Zealand. This story is about the remarkable friendship I developed with John Garmonsway (a master bookseller) in London in 1992. The friendship defied classification and lasted, as he predicted it would, until he took his last breath in May 2018. He was 89.

William is my middle name, and Henry is John’s middle name. We were what you might call ‘soulmates’, and it feels only right to honour the influence of his life-changing friendship through my fiction pen name. I am delighted that his voice will also live on in the ‘Julian’ chapters of the novel he helped me to write.

“Hello. You must be Daniel. I’m Julian.”

I made an effort to sound cheery and was quite sure the young man standing before me noticed the slightly artificial tone to my voice. He smiled (to put me at ease?) and I saw that he had an open, childlike quality, yet a grown-up presence and face; the face not old-looking, you understand, but showing a certain strength of character. I was instantly intrigued.

Where are we? Thankfully, we’re at a publishing crossroads. The article below was first published by New Zealand Book Month in August 2008, the month after Endangered Words was first published (with the title From Afterwit to Zemblanity). A long seven years later and, finally, I have been able to publish a digital edition of the book. A long-desired sequel is in the pipeline.

This week I am going to write about just one of the words from my new book, From Afterwit to Zemblanity: 100 endangered words brought to life. The word is ubiety, it is my favourite word from the book, and in last week’s blog I awarded it a silver medal for Poignancy in my ‘Word Olympics’. Can you remember what it means?

The Oxford English Dictionary defines ubiety as ‘condition in respect of place or location; local relationship; whereness’. The Random House Dictionary of English (Second Edition, Unabridged) defines it as ‘the property of having a definite location at any given time; state of existing and being localized in space.’ The Webster’s Third New International Dictionary, Unabridged, adds that it is ‘the abstract quality of being in position.’

So why is this word – of all the hand-picked beauties in my book – my favourite?

Ubiety is a condition that deeply affects my life, both privately and professionally. How can anyone whose location is indefinite (neither here nor there) really enjoy life fully? How can a writer – particularly a fiction writer (my first love, despite my three non-fiction books) – write compellingly about places he has not wholly occupied? In 1995, when I joined the world of digital communication by opening my first internet and email account, I lost my grip on ubiety. Thirteen years on, I am only just beginning to regain it.

In case you are unsure of exactly what I mean by ubiety, let me paint a couple of pictures. Ubiety is standing in front of Westminster Abbey on your OE [‘overseas experience’] and actually being there. Ubiety allows you to enjoy the anticipation of this experience, it allows you to be overwhelmed by the greatness of the architecture and the sheer weight and significance of the history, and it allows you to create a vivid and emotive memory that you can call upon for the rest of your life.

Ubiety is not being interrupted and distracted by emails, texts, and phone calls from home, or by researching your next destination before you have even begun to experience your current one, or by having to remember to recharge your mobile phone, your laptop, your iPod, and the batteries for your digital camera.

In our increasingly connected world we risk dislocation and liminality (‘being neither here nor there’) through our readily embraced but seldom questioned digital ubiquity. Just as multi-tasking comes with the risk of doing many things not particularly well, digital connection comes with the risk of both physical and mental disconnection. Whose attention isn’t fractured these days?

So I am on a mission to do more by doing less, to be more available by being less available, and to enjoy life more by devouring it in smaller bites. And the only getting lost I want to do is when I lose myself in a great book!

Wanting ourselves and others to perform optimally is a common goal, but achieving the goal remains a rarity. Below, Simon introduces a 16-word Optimal Performance framework he has developed through his work educating knowledge workers for Nakedize and Wellington-Uni Professional.

Improvement is in our DNA

Trying to do better—to fulfil our potential by solving problems or realising opportunities—is part of being human.

In our private lives, improvement efforts tend to be short-lived. Tedious repetition and a lack of encouragement allows improvement thinking to become autopilot, action to become habit.

At work, however, most of us are expected to be ‘continuously’ on the lookout for improvement opportunities. For knowledge workers, designing and implementing improvement is often our primary role. And, because all workers perform variably (unlike well-functioning machinery), every manager—including leaders, teachers, and advisers—should be seeking to design and implement the conditions for optimal performance.

Optimal performance is far from our norm

Despite the ever-present need for creating the conditions for optimal performance, and despite the fortunes being spent on the salaries of knowledge workers responsible for making things optimal, workplaces that hum along in top gear are incredibly rare.

Sadly, what isn’t rare are stressed office workers who feel they are actually being blocked from fulfilling their individual and collective potentials. We need to acknowledge that systems either provision or prevent optimal performance, and we need to transform (redesign, not tweak) most of our systems so they stop hindering the people they are supposed to support and ‘unleash’.

[A manager] needs to understand that the performance of anyone is governed largely by the system that he works in.—Edwards Deming

Optimal performance is neither ‘continuous improvement’ nor ‘best practice’

Optimal performance is highly qualified and contextual, which distinguishes its pursuit from much of the costly busyness going on in offices all around the world. Optimality depends on context (time, place, and situation), so it is unlikely to be achieved by the (often stale) autopilot behaviours licensed by best practice methodologies.

Optimal performance is doing activities you have first deemed contextually worthwhile, so it cannot be the same thing as ‘continuous improvement’. Continual (or regular) improvement is almost certainly part of optimal performance, but continuous doesn’t mean regular, it means incessant. (Note, kaizen means ‘good change’, not continuous change). The blind pursuit of continuous improvement can often result in a restless, costly muddle.

If you are doing the best you can within a context—that is, you are achieving your goal without overspending resources and without burning out any part of your system—then enjoy it: make hay and give yourself a pat on the back. Of course, don’t close your eyes to improvement opportunities but, equally, don’t serially degrade your performance by always being in that dissatisfied mode of assuming meaningful improvement is just around the corner, if only you would work a bit harder to find it. It is not helpful to always be in change mode: we need good reasons (which I will write about in a future article) to usefully invoke change.

It’s time to optimise our responses to sub-optimal performances

Fertilised with modern wealth and technology, improvement activity has proliferated over the last 20 years. But it is not all good activity. It is not all good change. Much of it is not business—working gainfully on matters that truly concern us—it is busyness.

You would think not performing optimally would get to us. And you would think that after baking a dozen sunken cakes we might think to find a recipe, or check the recipe we are using to ensure we have not forgotten a crucial ingredient (or two).

Well, poor performance—solvable problems not solved, realisable opportunities not realised—has got to me. It got to me a very long time ago, which is why I established Nakedize in 2004. And now I have finally whittled the recipe down to the 15 words in the framework below.

Like my 2005 Theory of Universal Human Needs, I am proposing this as a universal framework. You can apply it to any endeavour, anywhere, any time. You can use it as the simplest, most efficient of checklists to ensure your improvement efforts have a shot of success.

If the concepts sound familiar, that is good, they should: they are universal. This framework ties together performance truths highlighted by Simon Sinek’s Golden Circle and change truths highlighted by Chip and Dan Heath’s Switch framework.

I encourage you to use this framework.

Finally, if the framework helps you to unravel a wicked problem or two, I would love to hear about it.

Nakedize’s Optimal Performance Framework (v2.5)

Optimal performance requires the alignment of desire, ability, and opportunity towards an optimal goal: a goal whose value is recognised and embraced by all involved.

Culture ultimately dictates behaviour but, through good leadership, an inspiring goal can pull culture into alignment, demand appropriate skills and systems, and licence appropriate behavioural and structural changes.

Characteristics

Effectiveness: Products and services are effective if they do their job.
Efficiency: Products and services are cost-effective if their benefits outweigh their costs.
Sustainability: Resources (materials, people, skills, processes, tools) are sustainable if they are secure, long-term.

Ingredient sets

Ingredient sets for the Nakedize Optimal Performance Framework

Document history

7 Feb 2016: article updated
6 Dec 2015: framework updated to version 2.5
25 Sept 2015: original article

It’s the festive season—a time to gather with friends and family to celebrate the year passed, a time to toast one another’s good health.

Health. Such a deceptively dull word and yet the word itself tells the story of why good health is our primary universal human need, and why life without it is so terribly trying.

Health evolved from the Middle English word hale (which we still use in the phrase ‘hale and hearty’), as did whole. So health really means ‘wholeness’. When our health is poor we are not whole and our quality of life suffers. Nothing is more essential to us than our good health.

And this year—for me and my family—health has been our preoccupation.

In February my father was diagnosed with stage 2 cancer and a week later my uncle-in-law was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I felt deeply unsettled, not just for the obvious reasons, but also because the situation was depressingly commonplace. Cancer is literally swathing its way through our friends and families.

Up steps modern healthcare (bravo), immediately trailed by the dark shadow that every cancer sufferer must face: the treatment dilemma. Cancer is so damnably invasive that conventional treatments invariably damage (painfully) a patient’s health in order to improve a patient’s health, and therein lies the dilemma. Do I throw everything at the disease and risk losing quality of life for the slim chance of prolonged life, or do I jump straight to palliative care and try to squeeze out as much quality of life from the short time I have left?

I imagine (I can only imagine) that for most cancer patients there is only one option: fight it with all guns blazing, not least to show loved ones that you want to remain with them at any personal cost. The more advanced the cancer, the greater the heroism: I have seen firsthand the price paid. Both my father and uncle chose this option. My father survived, my uncle did not (and tears still well when I think of his selfless bravery—he would have done anything to be here for his wife and children).

But the dilemma remains: the other option is equally valid—immensely brave, loving, and wise in different ways. And if I ever have to face the awful choice, I will consider both options.

Understandably, this situation caused me to think about ‘life’ even more than I already do. I reflected that, despite our society’s obsession with materialism, life is not something you accumulate: the longest lives are not necessarily the best. Each day is a life. On any day, in any hour, we can attain the best of life. And when quality is the goal—as I sense it should be—then even a short life can be gloriously abundant. My uncle’s life was so.

Have I suddenly changed my lifestyle in response to these illnesses? No. Not at all. I already knew where health sits in the pecking order (see my human needs theory), and I already live in a manner configured around that reality—and perhaps I always have. You see, my father is a doctor and the principles of primary health care are familiar topics. Put the fence at the top of the cliff; not the ambulance at the bottom. Visit your GP regularly. Eat well and take every opportunity to exercise. Prioritise primary health care. Educate.

Fittingly, a few weeks ago I began some consulting work at Ko Awatea, the centre for healthcare improvement and innovation at the Counties Manukau District Health Board at Middlemore, South Auckland. How will I contribute as a wordsmith with nothing more than an appreciation for medicine? I will simply try my best to help the dedicated staff to share more widely and persuasively their valuable knowledge, so that more benefit can be gained from it.

Please, wish me well, the stakes are high.

And if your life isn’t already configured around good health, may I gently (but persuasively) urge you to reconfigure it, starting today.

We quote others because their words resonate and reveal, often capturing a liberating truth or ‘bringing light to bear on the dark corners where troubles fester’ (Sydney Harris). At times quotations shock or provoke us, causing us to stop and think. I am often inspired by quotations and I appreciate the regular supply I receive in my A.Word.A.Day newsletters (subscribe at Wordsmith.org).

So here are some of my favourites—via AWAD and other sources. I’ll kick off with ten and will update when inspired. For now, the quotations are ordered merely by surname. I hope they inspire you.

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.
—Leonardo da Vinci, painter, engineer, musician, and scientist (1452—1519)

When I go into the garden with a spade, and dig a bed, I feel such an exhilaration and health that I discover that I have been defrauding myself all this time in letting others do for me what I should have done with my own hands.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803—1882)

Nothing is more full of grace in the human condition than the presence of a most excellent friend.
—Marsilio Ficino, philosopher (1433—1499)

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.
—Anatole France, novelist, essayist, Nobel laureate (1844—1924)

He who listens to truth is not less than he who utters truth.
—Kahlil Gibran, poet and artist (1883—1931)

Most people are mirrors, reflecting the moods and emotions of the times; few are windows, bringing light to bear on the dark corners where troubles fester. The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.
—Sydney J. Harris, journalist and author (1917—1986)

Communication skills are one of the most important competencies needed in the 21st-century workforce. If one is to succeed, he or she will need a mastery of English because it is the language of business, science, diplomacy and academia. [6 September 2011]
—Lee Kuan Yew, former prime minister of Singapore (1923—)

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.
—Carl Sagan, astronomer and writer (1934—1996)

Clear thinking requires courage rather than intelligence.
—Thomas Szasz, author, professor of psychiatry (1920—)

How far should one accept the rules of the society in which one lives? To put it another way: at what point does conformity become corruption? Only by answering such questions does the conscience truly define itself.
—Kenneth Tynan, critic and writer (1927—1980)

I was only 10 when Jimmy Carter delivered his ‘Crisis of Confidence’ televised speech to the American people. So his words were new to me when, earlier this year, I heard parts of the speech in a documentary. These particular words made me sit up.

In a nation that was proud of hard work, strong families, close-knit communities, and our faith in God, too many of us now tend to worship self-indulgence and consumption. Human identity is no longer defined by what one does, but by what one owns. But we’ve discovered that owning things and consuming things does not satisfy our longing for meaning. We’ve learned that piling up material goods cannot fill the emptiness of lives which have no confidence or purpose.

I mentioned in my last post that, despite having written three non-fiction books, my first love is fiction.

The very first piece of advice I received about writing fiction was that I needed to read fiction – lots of it. For many years this was an easy requirement to fulfil, but around thirteen years ago the busyness of the digital age hit me at the same time as I became responsible for someone other than myself, and suddenly there was very little time for reading novels.

So I have regressed to being barely an intermediate level reader of fiction, but the worst of it is that, in terms of New Zealand fiction, I am still only a beginner. There are three main reasons for this. First, when I previously had time to read I lived overseas so I simply didn’t have access to a wide range of New Zealand literature. Second, I have never felt particularly drawn to New Zealand fiction. Like many (perhaps most) New Zealanders, I grew up with the distinct impression that we tend to tell small, dark stories and I was very focussed on discovering (and conquering!) the world beyond our shores. And third, I have always been put off by the fact that, in New Zealand bookshops, New Zealand novels sit in a separate section from other novels. I have always aspired to be a writer first, and a New Zealand writer second, so I would prefer to see my books (novels, one day!) alongside other similar books, regardless of the nationality of the author. That said, I have been told by booksellers that they think having a New Zealand fiction section is a positive thing – and it’s certainly in their best interests to do whatever translates to more sales and, therefore, more reading – but I still haven’t quite got my head around the practice.

So what is my favourite New Zealand novel? Of the shamefully small number that I have read, Maurice Gee’s The Burning Boy is my pick. I would love to hear about your favourite New Zealand novels, particularly in the context of my five all-time favourite novels, which I will list below. And given that all of the books on my list are very popular, your suggestions may well be of value to many others.

I think you will find it is a surprisingly difficult task to choose your favourite five novels (and I challenge you to do just that and share your list with others, via the comments), but here, in the order that I read them, are mine.

Skallagrigg – William Horwood
A Room with a View – E M Forster
The Crow Road – Iain Banks
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis de Bernières
Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell

It would be a dream, indeed, to write a novel that could sit alongside any of these. But that’s certainly my dream.

Update 19 March 2010: I have just been asked the same question (what are my favourite five novels) and a second bout of reflection made me substitute The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams for Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. The Guide may or may not be better literature, but it certainly influenced me more and introduced me to characters, like Marvin the paranoid android, who I only need to think about and I start smiling: ‘The first ten million years were the worst, and the second ten million years, they were the worst too. The third ten million I didn’t enjoy at all. After that I went into a bit of a decline.’

This post was first published by New Zealand Book Month, 26 August 2008