karen tayleur - author/editor

Snowy

2011-07-25T09:02:00.003+10:00

I was on a mission.
Two cats for two kids, ages 5 and 8.
It was a few weeks before Christmas, work was crazy busy and I hadn't even started shopping.
I dropped into the local animal shelter, unprepared for the emotional impact of so many tiny, fluffy creatures when I would only be taking two with me.
I took a lap of the room — filled with cages — and Snowy stood out for me straight away. She was alone in her cage, a little grey kitten with white and ginger, a loner which should have alerted me to her nature.
I chose the other kitten from a litter of identical ginger kittens, though he stood out as the one jumping up down and pouncing on his siblings.
I picked them up on Christmas Eve and hid them next door for a surprise Christmas morning gift. The male kitten went to my son and he named the ginger fluffball Milo. My daughter named her kitten Snowy. Not very original, but hey, she was 5!
The thing that I will remember the most is that Snowy used to perch on the chair behind my cat-hating husband and groom his close-cropped hair. It was his lap she always sought and we often caught them hanging out together, my husband watching TV, Snowy purring contentedly while he scruffed her behind the ears.

We'll be taking her home from the vet today to bury her in the garden.
Thanks for your kind wishes.

What are they teaching kids at school?

2011-07-22T10:25:00.004+10:00

It's great that I learned about the Aztecs and the Elizabethans and alluvial soil

and the square root of things when I was at school,
but what would really have been handy would be
to have learned about:

How to read my superannuation statement
Understanding the stock market
Investment strategies
How to build a house
How to fix a car
Or make a dry stone fence
Or weave a rug
Or make furniture

and I could have learned about that other fairly interesting
but totally useless for real life stuff in my spare time.

Or not.

101 Things to Do instead of writing

2011-07-12T08:52:00.003+10:00

I sat down to write yesterday.
But first I had to check my emails and respond to them.
Then I checked out Facebook to see what I was missing out on.
Then I cleaned up my desktop.
Then I read the last chapter I worked on and did a bit of editing.
Then I was ready to start new writing.
So I got up to make myself a coffee and realised
this was the perfect day to swap the lounge room and dining room
which is something I'd been meaning to try for two years.
So I woke up the kids (11am by now)
and we finished up around 6ish
(have you ever tried to move a piano?).
So now I'm ready to write
today's the day
although I do need to go the bank at some point...

News from home

2011-06-30T09:16:00.004+10:00

I pushed Tully out into the world in 2009 and I hear from her every now and then. I heard back from her just last week — she's found her way to Germany, hanging out with El and the gang from Chasing Boys at Arena publishing, which was very exciting news. Can't wait to see the new cover — I wonder how different it will be from the Australian version which was designed by Regine Abos.

Talking about Regine, she will be speaking at the next Victorian SCBWI meeting on Saturday 23 July. Rege is an incredibly talented designer and her presentation should be a great insight into the design process. Hazel Edwards, one of the most inspirational teachers I've ever had, will also be talking, as well as illustrator Felicity Marshall who will be talking about her book The Star. Can't wait!

Today

2011-06-27T22:12:00.004+10:00

Some days
lack inspiration
motivation
satisfaction
any action

Some days
sparkle like the sun
pushing past
green leaves
like a breeze

Some days
just are.

What Katy Did

2011-06-25T19:45:00.006+10:00

'As for your algebra,' she said, 'if it is that very dirty book
with one one cover and scribbled all over the leaves,
you will find it under the kitchen table.'
(What Katy Did, Susan M. Coolidge)

I suspect Katy may have had some influence on my own maths aspirations as I was growing up. The Katy Series, by Susan M. Coolidge, was a favourite of mine that I read and reread and pondered and sighed over. I understood that the book was old (much in the same way that my teacher at school, Miss Nunn, was old at aged 22) but it was only years later that I found out the first book in the series, What Katy Did, was published in 1872. The books are sitting on my bookshelf now (after a rescue from the garage when I was blessed to get a whole room for writing a couple of years ago) and I am too wary to look back over the pages through the eyes of an adult.

Susan M. Coolidge was the pen name of Sarah Chauncey Woolsey. She was an author of children's books in the 1800s — a time when there were few books written specifically for children. She worked as a nurse during the American Civil War and it was after this that her writing career began.

I have read thousands of books over the years, but I would consider the favourites from my childhood to have had the most impact on my life. That's why I consider writing for children such an honour.

A hard habit to break

2011-06-23T13:23:00.004+10:00

Habit is habit and not to be flung out of the window by any man,
but coaxed downstairs a step at a time.
Mark Twain

Mark Twain - he looks grumpy, doesn't he? By all accounts the man had a wicked sense of humour and I would have like to have met him. Huck Finn was one of my childhood companions, Tom Sawyer another close ally.

So, to the habit of writing. I've been told that if you do something every day for 30 days, it will become entrenched as a habit. I guess this might be some of the thinking behind the NaNoWriMo idea. I know that it is easy to get into the habit of not writing, but that is not a habit that I would like to encourage. A little bit of writing every day. Down one step every day. It's not a lot to ask...

Take Cover

2011-06-18T10:11:00.005+10:00

When I was a young 'un my music came on vinyl records and the cover art for the album was nearly as important as the music. Bobby Dazzler (1974 vintage apparently) was quite laid back compared to some of the covers coming out then, and included such star performers as Suzie Q (Daytona Demon), Paper Lace (The Night Chicago Died) and Miss Linda George (Mamma's Little Girl). Songs that I had long forgotten until I checked out the playlist but the cover I had never forgotten, its lure of pseudo neon typeface... and incredibly expensive use of tin foil. Of course I ditched my vinyls as soon as CDs came in, but the covers never translated to the smaller format and the excitement was lost.

In much the same way, I am wondering how the digitization of books will affect book covers in the future. While it is true that you cannot judge a book by its cover, I just can't help but pick up beautiful looking books, if just to feel them and check out the blurb on the back. Basically, they have me at hello. Angel Creek is a gorgeous cover and the story inside lives up to its promise. And once you finish the book, it can sit as a piece of art on your bookshelf.

Or is that just me?

Writers can learn from Olympic Athletes

2011-06-17T08:19:00.004+10:00

“Quantity produces quality.
If you write only a few things, you’re doomed.”
—Ray Bradbury

When strangers learn that I write books for children, two responses that continually pop up are:
1) When are you going to write a book for adults?
2) I'm going to write a book one day — I just need to get around to it.

I'm going to skip the first response today and move right on to the second. When talking to students about writing, I always equate writing a book with running a marathon in the Olympics. Participants in this arduous sport do not wake up one day, don their Olympic gear and decide to take part in the gruelling race. Athletes at this level undergo years of training, exercise and mental preparation. They will lose some races and there will be times when they wonder if all the effort is worth it. There are many things you can do to help achieve your goal of 'writing a book one day' and one of them is to write, write and write. Consider it as a way of warming up your muscles, testing your limits and preparing yourself for the big race to come.

Happy running.

When is a book a children's book and when is it something else?

2011-06-15T19:06:00.004+10:00

Okay, a long title, but that's basically the gist of my thinking today.

There are books that kids love to read and there are books that kids might come to like and then there are books like my lemon crocheted dress my great-great aunt made me when I was 9. My GGA Sylvie was a fearsome woman with a sharp tongue and whiskers on her chin and hands like claws due to extreme arthritis. One day she presented me with the said dress which had satin lining and was in a shell kind of crochet which would have taken her many painful hours to execute.
I had to wear that dress at least once when she came to visit, if only to prove how much I appreciated her gift.
I would have to have been the least favourite dress I ever had.

It was a child size dress.
But was it a child's dress?

If you get what I mean...

Peace, sister

2011-06-10T13:55:00.003+10:00

I have a friend who is her own worst enemy when it comes to criticism. No one can be as hard on her as she herself is. When her friends look at her we see a caring, warm, funny human with a lot of special qualities and untapped talents. While most of us have heard the nagging voice of self-doubt that picks away at self-confidence, hers is a constant companion. She came to mind when I read these words just recently:

"Attacking the self with criticism and negativity is one of the most common forms of violence. Peace begins with me. When I take responsibility for changing my consciousness, another giant step towards world peace is taken..."
Judith Pemell, The Soul Illuminated

Have a good long weekend, people. Take care.

Under the Milky Way Tonight

2011-06-09T08:21:00.004+10:00

I have returned home to a raft (I hate this term) of little urgent jobs that need doing, so have been holed up in my study working my way through them, accompanied by my party music mix on my iTunes. It's kind of like working with a bunch of friends I haven't seen for a long time, but you know that you'll just hit it off whenever you meet again. I love The Church's Under the Milky Way — it takes me back to the 80s in a way that no other song does, which is strange because it was just another song in the 80s when I was there. Maybe it's the melancholic strum of the guitar?

I left behind a green garden and returned to our two front garden trees showing off their naked limbs to the world. They try to look scary but they don't fool me. Instead I just enjoy seeing the lichen on their branches which is usually covered by green leaves and marvel at the tenacity of the last orange leaves as they cling on. Then there's the rhododendron showing off as it does every year while the mist settles over the hill just over our horizon. Winter in Melbourne. You've gotta love it.

She's back...

2011-06-01T21:37:00.008+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship 1st June

In the last week of my fellowship, I had an issue with the blogger template which would not allow me to log on. I decided to stop playing with technology and concentrate on the writing. Good plan. When I logged on tonight, it was working again - oh bliss. My last ten days was crammed full of things I had to do, things I wanted to do, and things that surprised me.

My biggest surprise was that the Year 9 group of boys at Prince Alfred College that I presented to in Norwood were great. I decided to talk about Six and was ready for a range of reactions — these were Year 9 boys — but the boys were incredibly polite and if they were bored they hid it very well. Alle was my minder for the session and she gave me a lively intro, and then the boys asked some interesting questions at the end, so all in all, a fun session.

I met up with Katrina Germain, author of My Dad Thinks He's Funny — if you haven't seen this book yet, grab it, it's loads of fun — and we had some quality author chat time, which was great after a long time of just knowing each other via email.

The last day I spent at Immanuel College in Novar Gardens and gave a presentation on writing non-fiction (using my Burke & Wills book from the Our Stories series from black dog books) with the Year 6 kids, who were again great fun and had loads of questions, the best one being, 'So, how big is your laptop?' Special mention to Oscar — sorry I missed out on reading to your class, buddy. Definitely next time.

Had a lovely dinner with the May Gibbs crew on my last night in Norwood. I could have spent hours more hanging out with them and chatting about the industry. Lovely to meet Nan Halliday finally and to get a chance to really talk to Janeen Brian— author of the fabulous award-winning Hoosh — who I had met online only in my previous life as an editor.

I finally took a photo of the Lord of the Rings art installation near the Burrow — a set of gigantic rings which lit up at night in different colours and helped me find my way home every day. The toll of the chimes rang out into the Norwood darkness with a satisfying dong, dong, dong (x 12) and heralded midnight one last time for me as I packed up my little house and turned it back into The Burrow. Then I got up early on my last day and wrote my minimum number of words required for the day, before closing the door one last time.

If you have the chance to apply for this Fellowship, I would urge you to do it. It is available to published authors. Hop on the May Gibbs Website and check it out. To sum it up, I have always fitted my writing in around my life. For the past month, I have fitted my life in around my writing. What an amazing experience.

Maggie Beer - champagne taste!

2011-05-23T20:33:00.005+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship
Sunday 22nd May

Bernadette Kelly came by for a visit to the Burrow on the weekend and after an intensive writing day we took time out to visit the gorgeous Barossa Valley. Unfortunately, BK suffered a bout of car sickness through the windy roads (nothing to do with my driving, she assured me) but luckily recovered at the sight of the Maggie Beer Farm sign.

We walked in to see Maggie behind the counter, and the magic continued from there. Lunch was delectable and the pantry gave us too many choices to take home, but the cooking class was the highlight as we learned what to do with verjuice. I had to take the class at one stage (okay, yes that is a staged photo), and we left to the screech of the peacock at the front door.

Top pic: Creme Caramel. Did we want dessert? Ummm, what do you think?
Middle pic: On the set of The Cook and The Chef, one of my favourite shows ever.
Bottom pic: BK just before she bought all the verjuice and oiive oil bagged up behind her.

Taj and the Great Camel Trek Book Launch

2011-05-20T09:37:00.009+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship Thursday 19th May

Last night I attended the launch of Rosanne Hawke's latest book Taj and the Great Camel Trek. This book took Rosanne four years to write, as it changed focus over that time to become the story that it is today. Aimed at ages 9+ readers, the story tells the story of explorer Ernest Giles on his second attempt to cross the Australian desert where 'wild dogs, scorpions, poisonous snakes and a constant shortage of water mean they are never far from disaster'. The narrator of the story is Taj, a 12 year old cameleer. The book was launched by Janeen Brian, whose own story, Hoosh, was a CBCA Honour Book, Eve Pownell section.

Top Pic: Taj was launched at Tabor College - an amazing looking college in South Plympton
Middle Pic: Janeen Brian launched the book in great style
Bottom Pic: Rosanne Hawke, author of Taj and the Great Camel Trek

SCBWI Adelaide Style

2011-05-18T21:46:00.007+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship May 2011
Wednesday 18th

Top Two Pics: Last night I attended a meeting of the Adelaide SCBWI group. The session was chaired by Barbara James and our guest speaker was Val Van Patten who has been involved with the CBCA for the past 20 years. Val presented a talk on how the books submitted to the CBCA are judged each year. It was a fascinating insight into what goes on in the judging of these prestigious awards, and if there is one thing I came away with is that publishers should be urged not to save up their books and send them en masse in the last two months of judging. Was nice to catch up with Katrina Germain, My Dad Thinks He's Funny author and meet Nikki Wakefield of All I Ever Wanted.

Third Pic: Had a lovely lunch at Mary Martin's Bookshop in Norwood today with kid's lit guru, Fran Knight, and May Gibbs contact (among many other things) Alle Goldsworthy and talked all things books. Hey, what is that product placement in the background... Burke and Wills? Nice one Fran.

Magic Long Weekend in Melbourne

2011-05-16T20:17:00.007+10:00

I spent a magic long weekend in Melbourne which was noticeably colder than the town I left behind. Saturday night was Dr Zhivago - a birthday present from friend Bernie and an incredible tour de force from the cast, including the amazing Anthony Warlow.
Sunday was A Year of Writing for Children at the Wheeler Centre for the Victorian Writers Centre. We welcomed Ashley, the only male in a class of females, a moot point as in the end it was a class of writers and a lot was achieved - albeit to the sometimes rebel sounds of the gathering on the State Library steps.
At some point over the weekend I wanted to turn our homegrown tomatoes into chutney, so whipped something up on Monday morning before the plane back, but it was more like a sauce than a chutney.
Melbourne is magic in Autumn and the splash of colour from autumnal leaves reminded me of the cards painting the white roses red in the Queen's garden in Alice in Wonderland. I also spied a couple of mushrooms fit for a fluttering of fairies.
Back to May Gibbs for more writing today feeling refreshed and invigorated.

Ow hanow yv Karen

2011-05-11T22:44:00.006+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship
May 2011

Today I found myself in a time warp as I visited the Cornish Festival, Kernewek Lowender, at Moonta, on the Copper Coast in South Australia. I took a two hour crash course in the Cornish language (ie My name is Karen) with the wonderful Lilian James, attended the Moonta Dressing of the Graves and listened to some costumed kids sing some olde worlde music. Shop assistants in the town were dressed in garb from the 1800s and there was even a front yard showing off a line of washing.

This festival lasts a whole week, and there was the feeling that things were only just revving up.

The Little Red Book

2011-05-10T15:15:00.004+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship May 2011
Day 10

This is my little red book. It's a Filofax and it was superseded when I got my iPhone two years ago. Not sure what made me dust it off and bring it along for the ride to Adelaide, but I've started using it again. I've ditched the idea of nicely divided up spaces for days and dates and just using blank pages in the order in the respective months.

There's something to be said for old technology. (Is a book old technology?)

My iPhone died last night. In the middle of a call it ran out of battery life. I plugged it in for a recharge and came back to a white screen. Spent the next hour trying to get it to work. Talk about bad timing. Still, was very happy I'd set up my appointments and contacts in my Little Red Book.

Luckily a lovely man in the Apple Store in Norwood got it working for me again, though he couldn't guarantee it would last. Am thinking of investing in some carrier pigeons...

To the Starman Waiting in the Sky

2011-05-08T21:19:00.004+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship
1st Weekend

Dear Alien from a distant planet.

Saturday's fun began at 8.30am.
I watched a lot of twiggy-legged boys running about and trying their hardest to grab a piece of leather and kick it between two of the tallest sticks in a group of four sticks at the top end of an oval. When this happened there was a lot of cheering. When it didn't come off there were many groans and excitement from those who didn't want the ball to go in between the two tallest sticks at that end. They wanted it go in at the other end of the ground. When the ball went between any sticks, a crazy guy grabbed a flag, or two, and waved them around. I think he was trying to show them where the ball was supposed to go.

A group of adults hung around the edges of the oval. You could tell that they wanted to join in, but they must have been too scared to get dirty. This didn't stop them from yelling instructions to the boys on the ground, which was most helpful. There was also a man in a colourful shirt who ran around after them, which was a caring thing for him to do. Every now and then he'd blow a whistle he had hanging around his neck and the running would stop and everyone would listen to what he had to say. A bit of a show off, really. Sometimes he would take the ball and throw it up in the air. I guess he got sick of not having the ball and he was the biggest on the ground so he could do this. After this went on for a while, a loud noise sounded and the boys stopped running after the leather. Then one group of boys, all dressed in the same colours, got together in a huddle and had a talk. The others did the same. Then the noise sounded and it was on again. This happened three times and then, on the fourth horn, they all gave up and left the ground. I guess they figured they'd rather be doing something else.

Here on Earth, we call this AFL football.
I know it sounds silly, but it can be quite fun.

My nephew's team won by 1 point.

Dulwich and the Cave of No Return

2011-05-06T21:18:00.007+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship May 2011
Day 6

It was the sign that stopped me.
A promise of hidden treasures.
There were two entrances, but one was blocked.
I stood undecided.
There were chores to run.
This was not my quest for today.
But something was drawing me inside.
And even as I decided to move on,
my feet stepped into the cave
and my senses were overloaded
with the tumbling cacophony before me.

Inside the cave the light was low.
From ceiling to floor
from corner to corner
the past brought together in a jumble of nonsensical priorities.
The air was foetid, my breath shallowed
as I moved forward.
Then a voice rose out of the chaos
'Yes?'
As the door slammed shut.
Behind me.

Pic: One of the beautiful streets in Dulwich, Adelaide.

Dough!

2011-05-05T23:35:00.005+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship
Day 5

Had to leave The Burrow today to go to the Post Office. Along the way I saw this awesome display of cupcakes and heard a mother say 'Come away from those cupcakes' to her toddler, as if they were poison.

The other thing I noticed was that living in a different city in the same country is like living in a parallel universe. The TV Channels are the same but the local news is presented by newsreaders who kind of look the same but kind of don't. Their jokes seem a little fake, because they aren't the real newsreaders that I'm used to. The radio announcers suffer from the same wrongness. The local weather also just a little off. Australia is skewed to highight the state I'm in and suddenly Melbourne's dot looks wrong on the map. The ads highlight roads or suburbs that aren't familiar.

It's kind of like that episode of the Simpsons where the parallel world Bart and Lisa save the day. Unsettling.

Here comes the sun

2011-05-04T22:26:00.003+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship
Day 4

Today I chased the sun into the bedroom. I moved the bed and set up a card table (does The Burrow have EVERYTHING?) under the window. Guess I'm used to a sunny study at home and hate to have the light on before I really need to.

I also have a new man in my life. It is the automatic time announcer on my laptop. I call him Mat. Every hour he announces the time. Sometimes I thank him. Sometimes I ignore him. Still, it's nice to have someone around to ignore. And it does help me keep track of time.

Oh, and I need an explanation of poking on Facebook. Is it friendly or aggressive? And how long should the poking go on for?

Settling in at the Burrow

2011-05-03T21:29:00.006+10:00

May Gibbs Fellowship
Day 3

You know you're feeling comfortable with a place when you organise a major haircut. Or is that just me? So had a Surreal experience then off to Officeworks. Today I worked out that it was going to be cheaper (and much easier) for me to buy a printer than to go down to the local library to print out. A printer for $49 - it's also a scanner. That's ridiculous. Of course, its the peripherals that make it worth their while - the extra ink was $36 for an extra large tank of black. Still. Spent the rest of the afternoon printing out and sorting.

Pic One: Time for a major chop.

Pic Two: Tonight I had a lovely dinner with Mary and Ian Wilson (from the May Gibbs Support Group) in their home which is a story in itself. Part of it is listed with the Heritage Trust. They should also be listed as National Treasures. Could have spent many more hours just chatting but they wisely took me home at a reasonable hour. Which means I could blog on time!

Pic Three: Congratulations to Caity for getting her driver's license today. Not that I ever doubted she would get through. (Is that Marley on the couch now?)

And so, to begin

2011-05-02T22:15:00.005+10:00

Day Two
May Gibbs Fellowship

Today I wrote a list of things to do and spent the day ticking them off. Internet and emails are up and running. Already chatted to several of the May Gibbs people. Ventured out with my Tom Tom.

Pic One: First stop was the Burnside Library. What a gorgeous place. I just happened upon the Children's Librarian, Caroline, who was incredibly helpful, though I think I dobbed myself in for an event. I now have my library card. All set. Did a bit of printing out. Also dropped into a gym with a promise that they would see me 3 to 4 times a week. Pretty sure they didn't believe me, but at least they pretended to.

Pic Two: Things have already taken a downward turn at home. Chairs are for people, not for dogs. Please remember that, team.

Come first of May

2011-05-01T22:49:00.005+10:00

Day One
May Gibbs Fellowship
First pic - an 'are we there yet?' moment, I finally reach Border Town, so take a photo to prove it. I was met by the lovely Sally Chance (fantastic name) at the end of the freeway. Sally took me to the Burrow, helped me unload my things, and left me with dinner and breakfast and a chance to settle in. I quickly set up shop with Masterchef as a backdrop and a call to home to see if they are missing me incredibly. They didn't say so but, hey, I can read between the lines.

Second pic - I've set up a pinboard with my Leunig calendar and May Gibbs card from Bernie, Andrew and Ella. May's calendar message is 'Have Your Say - Make a Comment'. Rather apt I thought. That's exactly what I'm here to do.

Have read through the Fellows Journal and Folio and feeling I have some big shoes to fill.

May Gibbs Fellowship - Four Sleeps to Go

2011-04-27T21:36:00.002+10:00

May Gibbs was English, but emigrated to Australia at the age of four, so I consider her Australian, through and through. I read the Gumnut Babies as a child. It was the illustrations that left a lasting impression, though also a sense that I was hearing an Australian voice in a mostly English-US market at the time.

In four sleeps I shall be taking up a Fellowship for the month of May in Adelaide. It is with some trepidation that I am setting out on that 10 hour car journey. And it isn't the car trip that's weighing on my mind. It is the terrain of What Ifs which sees me approach this journey cautiously.

Still, writing stories is all about the What Ifs.

So bring it on...

Easter Sunday at the Farm

2011-04-26T17:27:00.005+10:00

It's been a tradition for many years to spend Easter at the family farm and this year was no exception. Many of us tent it, but there's no point doing without luxury. Time is spent in comfort around a roaring fire each night unless it's raining. This is the morning after a huge bonfire — there's still a flame but the mist in the background is an indication of how cold it can get. If you look really closely in the distance you can see the disappearing tail of the Easter Bunny after depositing a stash of Easter eggs. That's what 5 year old Brady told me, anyway...

What we were reading this Easter - The Seeds of Time, Six, Across the Universe, Country Style Mag, The Age, Winky Wonky Donkey, Peepo

Hippitty Hop...the Easter Bunny's coming

2011-04-19T21:23:00.004+10:00

When I was young my sister and I would leave out a carrot for the Easter Bunny on Saturday night and every Easter Sunday morning we'd wake to find the carrot gnawed down to a nub.

One year, after some late night grown-up celebrations, I woke to hear my mother giggling up the end of the hallway and my father shushing her to be quiet. And then an unexplained hiss and meow — our cat Sooty. These were strange happenings but I was only half-awake and it was easier to fall back to sleep than wonder what was going on. My sister and I woke up the next morning to find bunny footprints in talcum powder leading from the front door to our bedroom but I'd forgotten about the late night interruption and we found Easter Eggs in our back garden as usual. As usual my sister ate hers straight away and as usual I eked mine out over a longer period.

Years later my mother admitted to dipping the cat's hind paws in talcum powder and bouncing her up the hallway to create the prints. I am still secure in the knowledge that the Easter Bunny came that night, though, for the carrot was gnawed down as usual in the morning and I know, for a fact, that Sooty had an aversion to vegetables.

The Pursuit of Happiness

2011-04-18T08:22:00.005+10:00

Just watched Sunrise segment which stated that happiness boils down to following facts:
50% genetically disposed
40% how you spend your day
10% - oops can't remember

I've often wondered why it is that some people can survive incredible hardship and still smile at the other end while others don't. Just finished reading David Metzenthen's Jarvis 24, published in 2009, which is an enjoyable story about a boy with positive happiness genes. Although he has experienced the loss of a friend, this is a story of him moving on. There's not a lot of teen angst here, but a real insight into a 16 year old boy getting on with life. The voice is incredibly strong — I was sad to leave the character at the end of the book.

Recommend for boys. Recommend for girls who want an insight into what teen boys really think.

All Saints Lit Festival - 2011

2011-04-11T15:54:00.012+10:00

We arrived back in Melbourne this morning from an extended All Saints Lit Fest 2011 stay. From balmy Perth to chilly 6 degrees Melbourne where we could play 'what animal is this' with our breath puffs in the cold 5am air. All Saints Lit Fest is like an oasis in the sandy dunes of an author's life. It's not just the kids - who are fantastic and engaged and fun - or the incredibly beautiful grounds and facilities or the warmth of Kris Williams and staff - but it's hanging around with other people who think that writing for children is a perfectly normal way to spend your time.

Thanks to the volunteer students who helped us get to where we were supposed to be, to the Green Room volunteers who kept the goodies coming and the Green Room cleaned as if by magic, and the drivers who picked up and dropped off and made getting around worry free.

Marcus Zusack officially launched the Lit Fest in a very laid back and warm style, which set the tone for the rest of the Fest. Saw plenty of The Book Thief books being sold at the Fest Book Shop.

I suspect that Fest guru, Kris Williams, cloned herself for the festival period as she seemed to be everywhere at the same time. Here she is with her gorgeous daughter who pitched in to help ensure things ran smoothly.

Left to right: Meg McKinlay, Susanne Gervay and Kate McCaffrey offer some words of wisdom, but I've decided not to change the title to Seven.

Book signing time - Mark Carthew, Julia Lawrinson (Captain of winning Debate team FOR books) and Shirley Marr - adoring fans are out of shot.

Felice Arena knocks back some Friday Pizza in the Green Room, but who is he reading about? Is that Shirley Marr on the cover of Today?

And to top it all off, our hosts Margie, Tim and Alfie made us very welcome and we miss them already. Thanks a lot you awesome trio!

All Saints Festival - one sleep to go

2011-04-04T14:28:00.003+10:00

Somehow the All Saints Storylines Festival is upon us and I'm not sure how that happened. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone at the festival - sounds like Perth is having a heat wave so that should be a shock to the system after Melbourne's non-summer.

A congrats here to authors Carole Wilkinson for Sugar Sugar's appearance in the 2011 White Ravens and Ananda Braxton-Smith for her shortlisting in the Arealias Awards for her book Merrow. Both great reads - both worth catching up with if you haven't already.

What if?

2011-04-03T08:57:00.003+10:00

A big component of writing fiction is the 'what if?'
I was driving home in peak hour traffic the other day, when the cars seemed to slow down to a crawl. I could see cars turning left or right into other lanes, as if a car had broken down up ahead. As I got closer I could see the problem. A man, with crazy long gray hair, with clothes that hung loose and dirty from his body, staggering down the middle of the road, flipping drivers the bird. He seemed a little angry.
We all drove carefully around him and I went on my way, but that writer's voice started up it's usual routine.
What was he doing there?
How did he get there?
And from there to the what if game.
What if he was a secret agent, just escaped from his captors, still staggering from their interrogation drugs?
What if he was being chased by someone and the safest place to be was in the middle of peak hour traffic?
What if it was an experiment to see what the drivers would do?
What if it was part of a movie shot in real life?
What if he had just been deposited back to Earth after being kidnapped by aliens?

What if??

The Adjustment Bureau - the snack bar is open

2011-03-30T23:57:00.004+11:00

When I was young we used to go to the drive in movies. Us kids would get dressed in our pjs, the back seat would be piled with blankets and pillows and Mum would bring the basket of goodies.

I hated that basket.

When the snack time ad came on screen, other people got to go and buy really tasty things such as chips and well who knows what stuff because we were never allowed to go. Mum always brought a thermos filled with hot chocolate which was delicious but not a patch on buying it at the snack bar. Then I grew up and went to the snack bar at the movies, even when I didn't particularly want to, but because I could.

Tonight my world shifted 360 degrees. Before we went to the movies, my daughter insisted on making up a thermos of coffee.
'You're joking?' I asked.
But she insisted and happily poured herself a cap of coffee as Emily Blunt kissed Matt Damon for the first time in the men's toilets of a very swish marble place. I loved the men with their little hats busily working away for the betterment of mankind. The film reminded me a little of the 1998 movie Dark City except with a romance thrown in and without the film noir shadows.
As for the thermos, said daughter insists that it is latest etiquette in cinema entertainment. I'm sure my mother would be pleased to hear that...

Excuse me, do I know you?

2011-03-24T22:32:00.006+11:00

You know the feeling.
You're at a school reunion, or the petrol station, or at a footy game, and the stranger approaching you from the opposite direction has a huge smile on their face.
You panic.
You should know this person. You smile back, flipping through the photo albums in your memory which come up with a big fat zero.
It happened to me tonight.
I was in our local shopping mall and a man to the right of me left the shiny Telstra shop where people were signing the next 24 months of their lives away. (Ahh, shiny, pretty - can't hear anything except 'it's all yours')
So there he was, approaching me with a grin, and I knew straight away that I should know him. He had a cocky walk and a crooked grin. He moved with purpose and the crowds cleared a path for him as he strode toward me.
He had a moustache. This took up 35% of his face - so I couldn't avoid thinking about it. I flicked through my memory album but all it could come up with was Tom Selleck, and I have to say he was no Tom Selleck.

It was only on the way home that I realised why I recognised him.
He looked exactly like Super Mario from our Wii game at home.

Themes and writing and Oprah Winfrey

2011-03-21T21:59:00.005+11:00

Firstly - this image has nothing to do with this post. It's just that I was missing it from my blog header, so I popped it in because it always makes me smile. Yes, it is part of the Chasing Boys cover, but it's really just about the image.

Secondly, I'm not ashamed to admit that I put OW's name in the post title and labels to see how much it skews the hit stats. (So much fun, in a very childish way.) But I don't think Oprah would mind - she has done a lot to increase sales of books over the years.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about.
What I did want to talk about was themes.
It has come to my attention, well really nudged something that I already knew and then forgot about, that every writer has a theme that you'll find in their stories if you look hard enough.
Sometimes it's just one theme that they explore over and over again.
Sometimes there are several themes and sometimes a different theme for every book.
Which made me think about what my themes were so far in the three YA books I have written.
I'll have a stab, but I'm sure others would find it easier to pinpoint mine than I can.

Unrequited love
Missing parents
Belonging
Displacement
Fate
Wrong place, right time

I'll let readers figure out which themes belong with which book/s.

How about the other writers out there?
Have you thought about the themes that occur in your own writing?

In the words of Oprah Winfrey...

2011-03-20T19:09:00.009+11:00

that's what I'm talking bout!
What a great weekend.

Saturday saw us make the trip to Phillip Island - an ideal setting for a beautiful wedding. Standing on a clifftop, blue sky, blue sea and the sound of the surf pounding in the background while a gorgeous young couple - Ryan O'Connell and Loz Bell, outdoor freaks both - pledged their love for each other in the presence of family and friends. A warm day turned into a balmy night, the moon was full and we dragged ourselves away at a late hour to return to Melbourne for Sunday commitments.

Sunday should have been a letdown (an early start, and were those stomach stumbles a result of too much champagne?).
It wasn't.
Today was the first class of the Year of Writing for Children (YOWFC) and what an awesome class.
The Board Room - our space at the Wheelers Centre - set the tone. A big space with lots of light and state of the art equipment. (And right next door to the tea room - what a bonus!)
Sometimes it takes a while to warm up to each other in a writing class.
Takes a while to trust others enough to bare your soul.
While it was great to see the camaraderie and adventurous writing spirit of the attendees, it was the humour that rang through the empty corridors of Level 2 of the Wheeler Centre that set the tone.
Can't wait for the next class in May.
Thanks to Bronwen for the strawberries.
Just do it, YOWFC writers.

Author Goes AWOL

2011-03-15T07:29:00.004+11:00

Well, it's been one of those weeks where you look back and think - how on earth did I fit that all in? Thank goodness for a public holiday on Monday, is all I can say.

Had a fabulous time in Sydney at the Northern Sydney Region Teacher Librarian Conference in Terry Hills talking everything e-books. During question time there was a question posed by one librarian - 'where have all the adverbs gone?' which I shall endeavor to address in a later post.

Sunday looms and I have a full class of students for the first Year of Writing for Children day for the Victorian Writers Centre. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone and getting a bit of writing done, so hopefully they are ready to write in class.

Meanwhile my visit to All Saints Lit Fest in April is fast approaching...

E-books & Authors

2011-03-05T23:09:00.003+11:00

I have been up to me eyeballs in e-book information since I agreed to speak at the Northern Sydney Region Teacher LIbrarian Conference on Monday 7th March. I will be discussing e-books and what they mean to me as an author, but I will also have my other hats on as reader and editor. There's also a panel discussion, so should be an interesting time all round.

Groundhog Day

2011-03-01T22:42:00.004+11:00

Just going to bed but caught the Late Late Show with some Scottish sounding dude and his intro song is by Madness, with the line Tomorrow's just tomorrow today.

Which is very deep.

I love sci fi and fantasy but always had a problem with it as a kid younger reader. Something new can't really happen in the past, because it already would have happened, well that was my thinking, and I'd fight against the premise. I am happier to let things go nowadays.

Which reminds me of Groundhog Day. I always thought I would learn to play piano if I was caught in that situation of each day repeating itself until I had learned the lesson I was supposed to learn. I'd also study five other languages. And maybe train to be a doctor. Or a painter. Bedtime now. Hoping not to wake up in the morning to Sonny and Cher singing I've Got You Babe.

(And by the way, how fat is that groundhog!)

The Lost Thing - Found

2011-02-28T23:32:00.003+11:00

Congrats to Shaun Tan and crew for winning an Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film.

Nice acceptance speech by Shaun Tan, who could have shown some of those fancy actors who should know better how to do it.

Truly, the stuff some dreams are made of.

Writers Go AWOL

2011-02-27T23:05:00.007+11:00

A couple of days at the beach to
clear our heads
open our hearts
and kick at the coals
of our
inspiration.

Tears, cucumbers, ants and feasts
stories, laughter, tissues
a problem solved
a butterfly emerged
our time, too short
but enough
for now.

Maslow's Theory & Bookstores

2011-02-25T07:06:00.004+11:00

Trying to understand why David (Readings) won against the Goliath of Borders in Carlton, I checked out old Maslow's theory to look for answers.

It just doesn't seem to make sense that a buyer, given the choice, would rather access books at a higher price from a store 50 metres away as in the Readings/Borders case in Carlton. Isn't the world today driven by economics? Cheap is good, right?

I had to go to the top of Maslow's pyramid to find my answers. Buying books is not like buying life's essentials such as food or shelter. (Or though, some of us might argue otherwise.) Buying books is an experience, rather like going to the movies instead of staying home and watching the same thing on pirated DVDs. You want the experience of going to a beautifully designed store, filled to the brim with books (but not so full that you can't find anything) with helpful staff who will engage with you in discussion about A book over B book. Buying books in a supermarket or chain store is like buying the weekly groceries. Definitely not the same experience, though if that's the only option you have to get near a book, then go with that I say.

So, price isn't everything. (Gasp! What!) It is certainly a factor, but only one that I take into account when buying my books.

The Little Shop Around the Corner Wins...

2011-02-22T22:31:00.004+11:00

As Borders finds itself in financial strife, the doomsayers are rubbing their hands with solemn glee as they reiterate their favourite chant - 'It's the end of the world as we know it' (now, who sang that? REM?). It's true that the publishing industry is currently facing a major shake up and really it's not the best time to be a publisher/author/illustrator, but most of us are hanging on for dear life to see where the ride will take us.

Maybe they should make a sequel of 'You've Got Mail' where Fox Bookstore closes their doors and Meg Ryan opens up her Shop Around The Corner (or should she rename it Readings?), because when we last left her in YGM she was writing a book and I suspect it is the Independents who will be selling it.

That said, I had my last book launch at Borders Knox City and the staff were incredibly supportive and generous with their time. I have always found Borders staff helpful. So sending best wishes to them tonight — hope we can all hang on for the ride.

Don't stand so close to me...

2011-02-17T22:29:00.005+11:00

Sorry for the Police reference. I could have used Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the Wall but it didn't seem as appropriate. I have come to the very slow realisation that I am becoming more claustrophobic as I get older. It's crept up on me like a slow growing vine, and sometimes I'll turn around quickly to see it has progressed a few more leaves at a time.

I first noticed it at shopping centres. Ikea was the worst. All those arrows spiralling you into the ultimate shopping experience. When I moved out of my small office at work with the tiny window looking out on the sky and neighbour's roof, I moved downstairs into the bigger office downstairs and faced a brick wall. Still, to my right was a huge expanse of window and views of the sky which helped. Now I work from home and my office window looks out onto the garden.

But...

Outside my home office the other day a trailer load of cut wood was stacked outside my window, cutting off my view of the green and the street and the cars coming up the drive. At first I didn't worry, but after a couple of days I had to restack the whole pile to somewhere else, as the panic of enclosure began to set in. How nice of my daughter to help me. Still, I wonder what it's all about?

Blackbird fly...

2011-02-11T07:22:00.003+11:00

For the past several days a little black and white bird has been attempting to fly through the window at the back of our house. It goes something like this. She lands on a back railing. Flies to the top of the large market umbrella near the window. Then flies at the window, only veering away at the last minute. This pattern continues until she is exhausted, then she leaves, only to return and try again.

I was thinking of her yesterday as I sat waiting for my one on one meeting with the Australian Arts Council Grants officer. The amount of 'established writers' who received grants last year was around 13. Three of those wrote in the YA genre. My chances of getting a grant are minuscule. Making a living by writing for children is reserved for the very few.

Yet at the moment I am like by black and white friend. Caught by the allure of something out of reach. I continue to fly toward it.

I wonder if it's too late to be a brain surgeon...

Wet, wet, wet...

2011-02-06T09:56:00.004+11:00

was a band, but also the state of our suburb on Saturday morning as we woke to find trees on roads and cars submerged under instant street lakes. I never understood why people flocked to gawk at such events, but now get it. There is something of the 'there but for the grace of God', something of the awe of nature's force and something of the 'I see it but don't believe it' variety. In the top photo, a tree near us takes out road access. In the waterlogged picture (down the road from us), just next to the ute, you can see just the top of a car rising above the water. Much later in the day, as water drained away, another car appeared.
It has just started raining again.

You don't know what you've got until it's gone

2011-02-04T12:54:00.003+11:00

Reports on the news last night were that bananas were going to skyrocket in price due to the recent floods. At this point we had three bananas going through their usual state of wilt in our fruit bowl.
'Oh no!' wailed my daughter.
'What?'
She pointed to the screen.
'You don't even eat bananas,' I retorted.
'But when I can't have them, that's when I really want them,' was her reply.

Hmmm.

In a heartbeat...

2011-01-27T01:01:00.004+11:00

She stands watching him, waiting
For the lift of an eyebrow, for the turn of his head
For the curve of his lips, or the rise of his chest
And while she waits...
A child is born to the world.
A heart is lost to love.
A gambler walks away from her addiction.
A friend holds his tongue and leaves things lie.
A leaf falls from a tree.
A shoot rises from the earth.
A prayer is answered.
A book is closed.

And when he raises his hand
As he has many times before
She runs
Anticipation adding speed
To her eager joy
Only to return the ball
So they can play again.

Reviewing the Reviewers

2011-01-20T13:34:00.003+11:00

A re-run on Radio National about reviewing has stayed with me over the past couple of days.

I am still left with the question of 'what is the role of the reviewer?'

Is it to give a personal response to something they have read?
Is it to promote discussion about a literary piece and a broader discussion of literature as a whole?
Should they inject their review with their personality or not?
Should it get personal?
Is it a way to fill space, get newspapers sold, get people clicking onto blogs?
Is it about the reader? The writer? The publishing house or the reviewer?
Still pondering this one.

Dial I for Murder

2011-01-14T08:00:00.003+11:00

The home phone rang at 10.00 pm.
I have a few family and friends who will ring around this time, but still that first ring jangles the nerves as I check the clock to confirm the lateness of the hour.
10.00 pm.
The rain was hitting the windows at a 45 degree angle and the dogs raised their heads in query.
10.00 pm.
I answered. 'Hello?'
There was a muffled noise at the other end.
Someone crying? Someone choking?
'Hello?' Louder this time.
Still no response, but someone definitely there.
Usually I would hang up at this point, but something made me persist.
'Hello?'
A quavery voice finally filtered through.
'Hello? Who is this?' The voice was both demanding yet faint.
'Well you rang me.' By now I was getting annoyed. 'It's Karen.'
'Who?'
'Karen. Who is this?'
She told me her name and I laughed.
'Karen who?' She was still confused.
'KT,' I said.
She blamed her new iPhone. Somehow, as she was turning out the bedside light, she'd rung my number.
As I hung up the rain continued to tattoo the window and the dogs returned to sleep.
Now how could I use that in a story...

Everything old is new again

2011-01-13T08:18:00.006+11:00

Yesterday I had afternoon tea with Peggy who turns 90 next month. We share the same birthday, albeit some years apart. Peggy grew up in Collingwood and is an avid Collingwood football supporter. She was a seamstress in her younger days for labels such as Roger David — men's trousers. That was her forte.

We discussed how much change she'd seen in her lifetime. Living through the Great Depression, talking about the handouts of food which helped keep her family of six alive. She talked about the Coolgardie Safe - her fridge when she was a child - which consisted of a box and wet hessian to keep the contents inside cool. At one point I sourced a recipe for her from the Internet - I had to print it out twice, the second time in a larger point size. No problem. Easy done.

She marvelled over this, how far we've come. But when she talked about the climate extremes she had experienced throughout her 89 years, I realised the gadgets may have changed, but we are arrogant to think that we can control our environment.

Extreme Australia

2011-01-12T07:37:00.005+11:00

I live in a cool area in the eastern states of Australia because I dislike the heat, so I welcomed the rain over the Christmas period rather than grumbled at the lack of sunshine. As I sit here this morning, though, I can't take pleasure in the patter of rain on the leaves outside when over 200,000 of our Queensland neighbours are experiencing floods and an incredible loss of homes, stock and even lives.

In February 2009 our community experienced Black Saturday — a disasterous bushfire period where 173 lives were lost. Hard to believe that lives are being lost in January 2011 in floods. What an extreme country we live in.

Hello, Cocky

2011-01-10T09:32:00.004+11:00

The black cockatoos are back here for their annual visit, their high-pitched call heralding their arrival. They sound different from their white cousins who have more of a screech, but they are still loud enough to wake you in the morning. There is a plaintive note to their cry and I always enjoy catching a glimpse of them wheeling in the sky before they move on to wherever they go for the rest of the year.
My cousin used to have a neighbour with a pet cockatoo that was a good mimic. My aunt must have spent a lot of time standing on the back porch calling her son's name, for the cocky soon took up the task and often called out his name, with the same intonation, only scratchier. And then there was Aunty Kate's budgie with the goiter which scared me as a child whenever we dropped in for a visit. I have had a bit of a love-hate relationship with birds ever since Alfred Hitchcock...

No don't stop - or, the problem with lack of intonation

2011-01-08T10:01:00.002+11:00

A few recent electronic misunderstandings have led me to muse the lack of intonation inherent in emails and blogging. I have never been one to use emoticons (smiley face) but these at least go some way to expressing the intent of the author. ie This is a joke, or, I am using irony here. Coupled with a lack of intonation is the careless use of grammatical indicators in emails, texts and blogging that could also help point the reader in the right direction if used.

Which reminds me of an English class where we were given the words 'no don't stop' and asked to interpret their message. As we found, the message or (urgency of the message) could change, depending on the use of grammatical indicators.

No! Don't stop.
No! Don't! Stop!
No, don't stop.
No don't. Stop.
No? Don't stop.

Hot Cross January

2011-01-07T17:14:00.003+11:00

Our Christmas Tree was so pretty this year that it is still sitting in the corner of our lounge room.
Which is why I did a double take in the supermarket today - yep, there they were
HOT CROSS BUNS for sale.
By my calculation Easter is in April this year
but there they were in all their glory.

Made me come home and check the calendar
just to make sure I hadn't missed a few months...

Year of Writing for Children - 2011

2011-01-05T21:32:00.003+11:00

2011 is the Year of Writing for Children with Karen Tayleur.
Well, that's what it says in the Victorian Writers Centre program, so it must be true.

Which means I have been sitting here lately thinking about the shape of the course —
which will be 5 Sundays, 10am to 4pm over the course of the year.
It's an exciting idea for me — to liaise with writers over a long period rather than a few weeks here or a term there.
Thinking about other people and writing is a sure way to get me thinking about the shape of my own writing. At the moment I am exploring Story Beginnings and exercises to let the imagination flow.

See you in March!

Who do you think YOU are? (And where do you come from?)

2011-01-03T16:07:00.005+11:00

Unless you are an Indigenous Australian, all Australians come from somewhere else. I was always at my dad to map out the family tree for us, but he never got around to it and I have found myself taking on the task instead.

I've been watching the 'Who Do You Think You Are?' show with interest and finally hopped online to ancestry.com just to check my own relatives out. I am the keeper of the photos in my family, which meant that I could rifle through the three boxes of photos, checking out any info written on the back of each photo for a clue or reminder about who belonged to whom, confirming what I found online.

I managed to waste a whole day following the little leaf links to relatives I have never met and most I have never heard of. It has already given me a lot of food for thought and raised questions that I have no answers for — yet. Family folklore being what it is, I assumed that I came from mostly Irish stock, but so far my Scottish heritage outweighs the Irish connection. (This is just on my father's side. My grandmother never talked about her life in the olden days, even when I asked her point blank. It saddened me to find out yesterday that she — and her 12 siblings — were orphaned when she was 9. It did make sense, however, of the fierce regard she had for holding close to her sons and their families.

One of my favourite findings so far is a painting of the ship (Marco Polo) on which my great-grandfather was born — David North McColl 1852 — en route to Australia from Scotland.

Think I am going to have to restrict my access to this site if I am to get any writing done this year...

And so — 2011

2011-01-01T20:27:00.006+11:00

Christmas Carols have a way of hitting my nostalgic spot like no other song, save one. Yes, just when you thought it was safe to turn off Bing Crosby, New Years Eve snuck up on me last night and whammo — good old Auld Lang Syne. I think it must have been genetically encoded into me that this song would always bring a lump to my throat.

We have the poet Robbie Burns to thank for the words. (He's the one in the fancy cravat.) I guess it is no coincidence that he is considered a pioneer of the Romantic Movement and I know that he was a favourite of my grandfather Thomas Burns, but maybe that was due to the surname.

Another favourite of Pa's was Christina Rossetti (she of the nearly Princess Leia hairdo). When he died I inherited a tiny padded ox-blood coloured covered book of Rossetti's poetry — a book from his childhood — and eventually two chair rockers. The book has since gone AWOL and one of the rockers sits in the corner of my study and catches the late afternoon winter sun, a perfect spot for reading. We spent considerable time together when I was a child, my pa and I, rocking away, pondering the strangeness of life. He with his magic roll your own cigarettes machine and racing form guide and me with a book in my lap and one of Pa's strong mints used to cover his tobacco breath. For years after he'd gone, my nan would watch the Scottish Highland Pipers on New Year's Eve as if to pipe him back to her. If she had leftover Christmas pud to eat at the same time, all the better.

Stupid song.

Editing in the garden

2010-12-29T10:25:00.003+11:00

Santa gave me a pair of long-handled tree loppers for Christmas and yesterday I tested them out.
It began with just a little snip here. The blades slid through the small branches of the rhododendron tree outside my bedroom window.
I moved on to another tree there. Same deal.
Then I moved to the front of the garden where an untidy bushy tree had inserted itself some years ago and had never been dealt with.
I lopped and chopped.
Edward Scissorhands had nothing on me.
I found the tree had sent out suckers and started another tree nearby, so more chopping - all to the tune of Bleak House courtesy of Radio National.
At some point I stood back to view my handiwork.
What was revealed was the beautiful trunk of a nearby tree that had been suffocating under the clinging arms of the intruder.
Editing stories are similar. Sometimes the beauty and simplicity of a story can be lost under the weight of padding, cliches, dialogue that does not further the story or repetitive prose when a single sentence will do.
It can be the most satisfying stage in writing a story.

Christmas List - David Mortimore Baxter Series

2010-12-22T08:07:00.006+11:00

I talked to the DMB gang the other day and asked them to send me their Christmas lists. As usual David was the last to get back to me. He said he had a really good excuse for being late, but he never actually told me what that excuse was...

David
Infra-red goggles (for Spies game)
Tickets to see Smashing Smorgan at the WWW Christmas Spectacular
New collar for Boris
To grow taller than Victor Sneddon by next semester
Ability to be invisible when Gran comes to visit

Jo
The boxed set of Mission Impossible
A box of chocolates for Ms Stacey
Acting for kids - Summer School
Gold Class Movie Tickets

Bec
The Genesis 3 Super Rat Gym from Pets R Crazy
Special food treat for Ralph
A new 'The Book' book - old one full
Pack of 36 watercolour pencils

Rose
New hair straightener
Voucher for Nails R Us
Voucher for X-pensive Wardrobe
Gold earrings
New pony
Skis
Latest iPod
iPad
World peace

Rose, what's the point of putting world peace? You're not in a beauty contest. As if you ever would be.
David, I can put world peace if I want to. What are you? The list police? Anyway, as if you can get the power of being invisible—
Yeah, well, I wish you were invisible—

Umm, thanks everyone.
Merry Christmas

Christmas List - Hostage

2010-12-21T09:39:00.003+11:00

Tully
Christmas dinner with mum
A real turkey this year
Mascara for Aunt Laney
A new tree for Grandpa — new lights?
A laptop (as if)
Carols on Christmas Eve - Village Green

Griffin
A car - new
Something good for Mum
Something for Tully — perfume? chocolates? jewellry?

Nathan
A new hoodie
Paint
money
Donkey Kong for Wii

Christmas Lists - Chasing Boys

2010-12-20T08:48:00.006+11:00

The wonderful Shirley Marr (of Fury fame) asked me for a Christmas wish list for my characters in Six, which got me thinking about characters in my other books. So, I caught up today with the girls in Chasing Boys, and they gave me their Christmas lists. (see below)

Ariel
Mobile phone plan (gotta ditch the prepaid)
My own bedroom
Cash to splash
Gold class movie tickets x 3
Send Xmas card to Leonard
Make Christmas cake for Mum

Margot
Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Raven'
Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein'
black eyeliner
black nailpolish
track down portable manual typewriter
summer photography course

Desi
A puppy
Gift voucher for The Mall
Chuppa Chups Party Pack
iPhone
Jimmy Choo shoes
Foot long Toblorone Chocolate

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

2010-12-18T21:51:00.008+11:00

To recap what I've talked about before...

My daughter (see pic with cat, taken some time ago) is mad about animals. For her 18th birthday she begged for a border collie, which she found herself after some work on the Internet etc etc. Said dog is Marley, who took her time to be convinced that you didn't just squat and do your business whenever the urge took you.

Anyway, Marley is now past the puppy teething stage, but she was obviously bored (and a little cross that we have left her to her own devices a little too long) for we got home to a white Christmas the other night. All around the Christmas tree were drifts of white bean bag beans. She'd done a wonderful job opening the zip on the bag and tossing cheer all about the room. We are still picking beans up all throughout the house.

Marley. The gift that keeps on giving.

(I would show you a photo of the event, but the cord for the camera seems to be missing — fodder for another blog!)

Sugar and spice... and pepper

2010-12-17T23:47:00.004+11:00

I made gingerbread stars today — a first for me as I am not a baker of sweet things usually. I have always liked gingerbread so it surprised me a little to learn I had to add 2 teaspoons of black pepper to the mix. And then, when i thought about it, of course this made perfect sense. It added that little bit of a kick you get when you bite into a gingerbread biscuit which takes it out of the ordinary.

People can be like that, too.
You might first be attracted to the sweet side of their nature, but it is that little kick that surprises you at times which makes them interesting.

That's been my experience, anyway.

Wombat's First Christmas

2010-12-16T21:56:00.004+11:00

Meet Bert.
He's very cute — from his tiny furry ears to the tips of his soft pink pads.
I met Bert today at The Rocks, a famous meeting spot for school kids and parents/carers in our neck of the woods.
I was there to pick up a two-footed cutie, but Bert stole the show and I just had to take a photo.
Bert is currently being cared for by a volunteer animal carer who will look after him until he is about 20kg then release him back into the wild.
Merry Christmas Bert.

Space Invaders

2010-12-15T23:39:00.004+11:00

I've just arrived home from school awards night.

She arrived late, with her husband in tow.
I wasn't sure what is was, but straight away I felt annoyed.
Maybe because she was sitting next to me in one of those fold down seats where your personal space is invaded by strangers you will hopefully never meet again.
She took a long time to settle down.
Wanted to know where we were up to in the program.
I smiled and pointed it out on my own, then she spent the next minute or so flipping through her own to find the reason she was there — obviously some child with a cameo up on stage by page 57.
Then she talked.
She talked to the man next to her who I assumed was her husband but maybe he was someone else entirely.
When the band came on she was so bored she began clearing out her purse, sorting receipts and other papers into piles then filing them accordingly.
Then she started on her bag.
Finally her stars did their bit on stage after which the family exploded from the fling back seats, busy to get on to the next event.

And that's when I realised why she'd annoyed me so much.
She reminded me of someone I used to know.
Me.

Christmas Movie Quotes

2010-12-14T10:57:00.004+11:00

Miracle on 34th Street
Fred Gailey: Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to. Don't you see? It's not just Kris that's on trial, it's everything he stands for. It's kindness and joy and love and all the other intangibles."

The Family Stone
Meredith Morton: I don't care whether you like me or not!
Amy Stone: Of course you do.

A Christmas Carol
First Collector: At this festive time of year, Mr. Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute.
Ebenezer: Are there no prisons?

Job # 3 - Would you like that wrapped?

2010-12-12T18:29:00.003+11:00

The weekend papers were full of letters to the editor with the 'bah humbug Christmas' being the dominant theme. I suspect that if I delved back into the archives of ten years ago I'd find similar letters.

So a confession. I love Christmas. Even in my most run-down moments, life is crazy and I can't even think let alone get to the shops to buy a present moments, I love Christmas. One of my favourite jobs ever was as a present wrapper in a gift shop as a teenager. I loved that job. I helped people find just the right present, we'd have a chat about life, and I'd wrap the present with TLC. We worked on Christmas Eve until 5, then shared a Christmas drink (strictly lemonade for me, of course) then back home to our own Christmas chores. I understand Christmas isn't for everyone. But for those who don't enjoy it, I say, 'Live and let live'.

Now please excuse me, but I'm off to write my list for Santa...

Job # 2 - Stories from a Nursing Home

2010-12-11T09:15:00.003+11:00

Christmas holidays are galloping towards us at an undignified rate and they always remind me of the holidays I spent making beds in a nursing home with my friend Sian. This was only my second-paying job ever and we were only 14/15 at the time (I was 14). These are the things I remember about that time:
• we had to wear flat shoes and I wore my favourite blue suede desert boots, which were not quite regulation
• there was a particular lady who used to dress inside out and stand facing the wall called 'Doris' and we just bustled along and did our job, as if this were normal with a 'good morning, Doris' and a 'have a nice day, Doris' when we left
• there was a man there with one leg who always wanted to tell us where the other leg was
• the matron was very strict but had a definite twinkle in her eye
• the three hours each morning flew by as we made beds and I told Sian an ongoing serial about an ongoing boyfriend, some of which may or may not have been strictly true (embellishments always) but certainly made hospital corners painless
Someone asked me once, how could you do such a job, wasn't it heartbreaking? But we were young, old age was a lifetime away, and I suspect our bustling naivety brought a little light each morning. I hope so, anyway.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be?

2010-12-10T15:23:00.005+11:00

Before I begin this rant, a pause is in order to look at this gorgeous bookshelf which looks like something you might come across in a Narnian Forest.

Ahhh.
So...

Do you lend your personal books out to friends?
Do you despair when the books are never returned?
Do you forget who you've lent them out to?
Do you have a no-lend policy?

When I was a child, under 10, I used to play libraries.
I know, pathetic really.
I labelled my books with the letter of the author on the spine. I made little pockets for little cards that could be stamped with the date of the library book loan (just like the books from the Sunshine Library).
The only difference between a real library and me was that I never actually let my books be loaned out. It wasn't so much that I didn't trust the kids I was playing with (i don't know how I roped them into that game) but that i had so few books I was scared of losing them. Which may account for why, as an adult, I have a couple of bookcases double-loaded with books. As for loaning out my books — I do, but it depends on:
a) who the person is
b) what the book is
c) if I can ever replace that book again.
Some of the best books I've read have been books I have borrowed from friends, so it seems only fair to reciprocate.
I now have a shelf dedicated to books that belong to other people, so it's easy when someone comes over and I can say, 'Did I borrow any of these from you?'

To loan or not to loan... that is the question.

Hotage

2010-12-08T21:20:00.003+11:00

Talk about your kids coming home to touch base (ie Chasing Boys paperback from the US), Hostage has turned up in a review on the Inkcrush blogspot (http://inkcrush.blogspot.com/). It was nice to catch up with Tully again. Nice to know she's still out there in the world trying to be heard.
Merry Christmas, Tully.
Merry Christmas Inkcrush!

(I wonder if Inkcrush has met the Six gang yet?)

Mark my words

2010-12-07T08:13:00.002+11:00

I have to confess that my father was a dog-earer of books.
As a child I learned this disgusting habit from him, folding down a corner of a page to mark my progress through a book. I wonder if this is because the majority of books I had at my disposal were library books, which were already dog-eared and stained and smelling of other people's lives. I'm not sure when I stopped this practice, but it could have been when I started getting my own collection of books to keep. Now I can't dog-ear a book at all, and don't know if I could even if my life depended on it (okay, maybe if my life depended on it...).
Which leads me to the question of, how do you mark your spot in a book?
I love bookmarks, but they seem to disappear into the land of the other sock that goes missing in the wash. I'm sure the bookmarks and single socks are having a rip-roaring time in some other dimension, but I'd rather they stay where they are supposed to — in this one.
Meanwhile... I use anything to mark my page.
My recent bookmarks have included:
hair ties
sticky notes
cinema tickets
ripped off pieces from The Age newspaper
a birthday card
a bobby pin
a receipt.
I am currently using a bandaid — not a used bandaid, of course, but an intact bandaid that I had fished out of my bag when I needed a bookmark. And when you think of it, a bandaid is a good choice for a bookmark. Consider paper cuts. You don't often get a paper cut from reading a book, but if you did you would have a remedy at hand.
Which makes me think that bookmarking an e-reader must be not nearly as exciting as bookmarking a real book.

US Chasing Boys - Paperback writer

2010-12-06T12:27:00.004+11:00

The lovely people at Walker in the US have sent me the paperback version of Chasing Boys.
The parcel arrived at my front door with a nice fat thump.
I couldn't answer the nice polite delivery man knock on the front door
as I realised I had turned into working from home person
who hadn't even bothered to do her hair.
When I say do, I don't necessarily mean brush
but at least rearrange out of bed hair do.

The front cover remains the same but the back cover is different from the original hard-back version — a lot lighter and includes a couple of review quotes.
Although I've had a few more babies since Chasing Boys
(Hostage, Burke & Wills and Six)
it's always nice when the kids drop home and say hello.

Axe murderer part 2: the face in the window

2010-12-03T21:47:00.003+11:00

The hairs on my arms begin to rise way before I turn.
There's a shift in the air, as if displaced
and a hiss that could have come from me
but my lips haven't moved.
It's true, blood can run cold.
It has thinned in my veins and runs swiftly to my heart
leaving me lightheaded.
And then I turn and face the window
to see it staring back at me...

Say what you mean

2010-12-02T22:01:00.003+11:00

Have you ever noticed how polite people mostly are?
I find myself doing the same thing sometimes:

Oh really? Is that what you thought?
or
Hmm, I could see why you might think that.
or
Oh, you think misogyny is great for a laugh, ha ha.
or
Well, that's certainly one way you could interpret that story...
or
Shoulder pads are coming back in fashion? You don't say.

Or you could just say,
I disagree.
Which is also satisfying, to the point, and more truthful.

Finally, I seem to have lost my instant Netherlands followers.
They came like a rainbow after a shower.
All bright and shiny and inexplicable but delightful.
Now they have vanished.
Maybe to appear again one day...

RIP NaNoWriMo

2010-12-01T10:34:00.004+11:00

Okay, well NaNoWriMo has gone the way of other good ideas that I have had over the years.

There was the exercise bike that ended up being a clothes hanger.
The apple cider vinegar diet that gave me an aversion to salad dressing.
The handkerchief skirted dress that made me look like a harlequin.
The bubble skirt - the less said about that the better.
Hermit crabs as pets. (I can't talk about that either.)

Big apologies to my NNWM friends.
I wasn't much support but I promise never to do it again.

PS: Netherlands still winning in the blog view stats - two days in a row. I don't know why, but nice to know you're there!

Hello Netherlands!

2010-11-30T08:49:00.002+11:00

There are a few things I know about the Netherlands.
It has a history of great painters.
And good cheese such as Edam and Gouda.
There are tulips, windmills and clogs.
50% of the land lies less than 1 metre above sea level.
Tuesday's weather will be a minimum of -7 and a maximum of -1, with a chance of snow and 20% chance of rain.

What I don't know is why there has been a sudden rush of views of my blog from the Netherlands.
Can anyone tell me?

The big question on short stories

2010-11-29T08:06:00.003+11:00

The skill of a good short story is that it offers the reader a glimpse into their own life truths in a way that other writing can't offer. Often, with novels, the reader is caught up with the characters or the plot.
The end of a good short story can give you a kick in the guts.
Or it can linger with you long after you've moved onto something else.

Just as writing books for children is not easier than writing books for adults
so writing short stories is not an easier option to writing a novel.
Australia has a history of short story writers
and it feels like lately it has started coming back into vogue.

Or maybe I'm just hoping?

Back to the future

2010-11-28T23:09:00.003+11:00

Some people love to do it and some people would rather poke themselves in the eye with a sharp (or burnt, depending on your upbringing) stick.
Some people spend time wondering and some never give it a second thought.
Some people do it once and wish they'd never done it.
Some dream about doing it but don't have the guts.

I did it on Friday night and I'm glad I did.
Thanks for the great school reunion Caroline...

A word on speeches

2010-11-26T11:14:00.003+11:00

A good speech is really just another way of telling a good story.
It's not about being word perfect, about precise annunciation or having a posh accent.
Or about being so incredibly rehearsed that you could talk without really thinking about what you are saying.

Time and again, I have to remind myself that a good speech is about speaking from the heart.
it's about believing what you say and being passionate about your subject.
It's about being yourself.
(And ignoring the fact that your face is the colour of a beetroot.)

You want eggs with that?

2010-11-25T07:39:00.002+11:00

When I studied copywriting (last century) we had a fantastic marketing class which was the highlight of the course. I can't remember the name of the lecturer now, but he was a dapper man who had a colourful range of bow ties and a never-ending bag of anecdotes. One story that has always stuck with me is the story of the instant cake mix.

As a young man my lecturer was given the job of selling instant cake packet mixes. The manufacturer had done a great job of creating an instant cake mix that only needed water added by the busy housewife (and housewife it would have been then) to create a perfect cake. But the mix didn't sell. Subsequent surveys of the target market suggested that the end user felt they hadn't put enough effort into baking the cake, and questioned the nutritional value of the cake. Feedback was given to the manufacturer who changed their recipe so that it required the addition of one egg. Sales rocketed.

In a similar vein, publishers over the past few years have cannily rejacketed books to increase their market share. Books with child/teen oriented covers have been given more sophisticated treatments so that adults can happily sit on trains, in cafes and any other public place without the stigma of being seen to be reading a children's book. Nothing else has changed, just the cover.

I guess it's all about the perception of the end user.

There is nothing worse...

2010-11-22T20:45:00.002+11:00

than driving someone to the airport
to watch them fly away
without you.

More on the power of three...

2010-11-21T15:53:00.002+11:00

Then there were the three musketeers.
The three little pigs.
Three blind mice.
The three bears.
Three Billy Goats Gruff

Three strikes and you're out
Three batsman out in a row is a hat trick

Three witches in Macbeth
Three sisters by Chekhov

It is also the first odd prime number.

The Power of Three

2010-11-20T16:57:00.003+11:00

I was arranging some flowers from the garden into a vase today (okay plonking) when I realised the power of three comes into play in more than just vase arranging. The three rule of vase arranging was introduced to me by my mother, herself a florist at one stage of her life. Never put two of a kind flower into a vase, always three to balance things out in an arrangement.

The unwritten three rule for writing was introduced to me by a lecturer who has now vanished from my memory's filing system, but his/her rule remains with me today.

The rule of three remains vague and hard to explain, so easier to show than tell:

He took a clipboard and a pen with him.
He took a clipboard, a pen and a well-worn ruler with him.

No, not a really good example, but the best I could come up with at the moment. A story between two people is always interesting, but three's a crowd — there's always something more delicious going on when you have three people. The friction as two side against one, the hurt as messages from one to three is lost in two's translation.

Three is just more interesting.

Disturbing Insight

2010-11-16T10:55:00.006+11:00

I recently discovered the stats page on my blog software and find it fascinating. The most viewed blog so far was written last year and titled 'The Axe Murderer is Upstairs'. I wrote it when I was at work, late one night, alone in the double storey Victorian brick building that came to life after business hours with footsteps and creaks and groans.

It was a short post, something to acknowledge the discomfort I was feeling, a laugh at my imagination. I had no comments on the post but discovered on my stats page that it was the most viewed.

Am wondering if the label for the post, Axe Murderer, and Stephen King, hooked readers in??

Is it worth writing a book?

2010-11-16T08:53:00.003+11:00

An acquaintance of mine, a fellow writer, recently asked whether it was worth writing a book. He meant financially, of course, but my initial response was, if you have to ask that question, then don't bother.

Still, it was a fair question. A publishing colleague and I always joked that if we wanted to make money we'd be better off running a fast food establishment.

So why do I write?
Because it helps me make sense of the world.
Because I want to send my words out into the world and touch readers in the way that my own life has been touched by authors I have read.
Because it makes me happy.

And royalties?
Any royalties are gratefully received.

NaNoWriMo - Day 15

2010-11-15T09:14:00.003+11:00

More on letting go...

having your editor talk about your characters is like going to a parent-teacher interview at school. The teacher may sometimes tell you things about your child that may be news to you. How you perceive your child at home and how they are perceived out in the wild world may be three different things.

You can try and convince your editor, and ultimately (hopefully) your readers that the character is, deep down, quite a nice person, just misunderstood, but in the end your character will have to stand on their own two feet and take what comes.

NaNoWriMo - Day 14

2010-11-14T11:39:00.003+11:00

I went to my first SCBWI meeting yesterday, smack bang in the middle of Lygon Street in Carlton. There was such a feeling of goodwill and warmth in the room that it nearly drowned out the waiters placing orders at the kitchen window behind us. Moving our seats forward two steps to the front of the room also helped with the noise.

I saw some old friends and made some new ones. Corinne and Claire were excellent hosts and kept us on track. Congrats again to Glenda Millard on winning the Crystal Kite Member's Choice award for her book A Small Free Kiss in the Dark. Wendy Orr, whose book Peeling the Onion was one of the first legit YA books that I ever read, gave us an insight into the making of Nim's Island. Her underlying theme was — letting go. Letting go of your creation and understanding that once it leaves your hands it will never truly be yours again. This is a hard thing for writers to learn, but it only gets easier once you do.

Still, I found it hard to read the prologue to Six out loud to the group. The first time I had ever read any part of six to an audience, and an audience of my peers, which made it daunting. It was an emotional scene and integral to the story - note to self, never read that scene aloud again. Also has been an emotional week in one way and another, so guess that didn't help.

Note to George, sorry I made a fuss about you leaving, but it's only cause I know you and figured that you would take the joke! Which you did with good grace, what a gentleman.

NaNoWriMo - Day 12

2010-11-12T10:06:00.002+11:00

Last exam.
Last day of secondary school.
No more school newsletters.
No more parent teacher interviews.
No more school lunches, school excursions, school forms to be filled out and sent back on time.
No more things left in bags until they change all shape and morph into something else.
No more hate that teacher love that teacher the train broke down again.
No.
More.

NaNoWriMo - Day 7

2010-11-08T17:23:00.004+11:00

Another exciting non-NNWM day!

Firstly, off to the Wheeler Centre (my new home) to hear Kate Morton speak about her new book, Distant Hours which I can't wait to start. That's Kate pictured. Hmmm. Richard Whitfield does take a good photo, but he had a lot to work with. I wonder if he could make me look like that...

And then, a drop in to my publisher, black dog books, for a quick and informal catchup with everyone there, some nice reviews and a reminder that Six has been nominated for a CYBIL — Children's and Young Adult Bloggers Literary Awards.

Hooray — go Six!

NaNoWriMo - Day 7

2010-11-08T07:58:00.002+11:00

Lots of writing, just not NNWM writing.
Second day of YA Masterclass stretching our minds
wriggling
giggling
niggling the words to drop down from the sky
then plink plink plink
onto the page they dropped
till we raised our faces
and laughed at the drought
now broken.

NaNoWriMo - Day 6

2010-11-06T19:20:00.004+11:00

Have written about 2,000 words today but not for NNWM.

Had a Master Class in YA writing with award-winning author Libby Hathorn at the Victorian Writers Centre with a great bunch of writers armed with pens and pads (and one laptop) and not afraid to use them.
Been a fun day of stretching our imagination, taking what we know and pushing it further, and finding things we didn't know.
Why are such days so exhausting?

I managed to find another part of my NNWM story but now have to write it properly and incorporate it into the story.

Looking forward to tomorrow's class.

NaNoWriMo - Day 5

2010-11-06T19:17:00.002+11:00

Day 5 of writing and nothing going.
Getting ready for a weekend of Master Class with Libby Hathorn at the VWC.
Will definitely not be taking NaNo writing with me.

NaNoWriMo - Day 4

2010-11-05T11:29:00.002+11:00

Great progress today.
I opened up my WIP file and scrolled through, looking at the words, not reading really, and then checked my email , followed up with some admin and then onto home duties.
Another good day of not writing anything.

NaNoWriMo - Day 3

2010-11-04T07:43:00.005+11:00

Bad NNWM Day! Bad! Good concert last night though. The line up was impressive and read like a who's who of a 1970s top 50. First Peter Frampton — yeah well, who hasn't listened to Frampton Comes Alive and how angelic was that young boy (with the curly hair) but today's Peter Frampton (sans hair) blew me away as he cajoled, demanded and played that guitar like nothing I've seen before. What a legend.

Then there was America (I caught up with them in my teens with their America's Greatest Hits), and they were great. They looked like they were having fun, but not nearly as much as the audience, most of who sang along.

Finally Chicago blasted our socks off with their big brassy sound and I had to check that I wasn't having palpitations (it was just
the insistent beat of the major drum solo). Not going to mention the average age of the audience but everyone seemed to have a ball. Happy birthday to you Ken! Thanks for a great night Kate!

And now for some serious catch up NNWM writing...

NaNoWriMo - Day 2

2010-11-03T08:10:00.004+11:00

A national holiday (for some) so busy doing other things, however I did get down some words at the end of the day. Have to stop myself from editing as I go and just let it spew out. Easier said than done.

National November Writing Month - Day 1

2010-11-01T22:00:00.003+11:00

My aim is to blog every day of NaNoWriMo 2010. I started my writing today. The recommended word count per day is 1667 words. I managed this today with a tiny bit left over. So far so good.

Starting a new story is like finding a new love. With this one, I had a false start. Five hundred words in, I saved what I'd written and started again. I wanted a love story. This is what the second attempt seemed to be.

It's early days yet. We're still kind of shy with each other. I don't know the narrator that well, though her second-cousin once-removed is already shaping up nicely.

I'll just let it go and see what happens.

Delayed gratification

2010-11-01T08:58:00.003+11:00

Read Sarah Wilson's article on delayed gratification on the weekend and it reminded me of my writing process. I like to let things bubble away for ages without writing anything down. By the time I allow myself to write it's in a burst of creativity like the start of a race horse as they burst forth through the gates. The trick is to stay the length of the course. (With a nod to the Melbourne Cup Race tomorrow.) I've been wanting to write for the last couple of weeks, but been holding back until today, the start of NaNoWriMo (National November Writing Month).

Good luck to all the NaNoWriMo writers. Got a feeling this is one of the best days of the process.

In a galaxy, far far away...

2010-10-30T18:59:00.003+11:00

were two girls at the end of Form 6 (Year 12) who announced to their parents they were off to Tasmania for, what would later become known as, Schoolies. Very risque to say the least. This week we got together for a catch up birthday lunch for her birthday. Happy Birthday Stan. To me we will always be those two girls who hopped on a plane to go on an adventure of a llfetime.

It is the (pretend) long weekend that preceeds the bulk of Year 12 exams. While the rest of the family have gone off to play, I'm hanging around making my Year 12 eat (mostly) healthy food, driving to Officeworks for that one thing that could make all the difference with her Maths score and generally feeling like I'm in a doctor's waiting room.

Good luck to all the Year 12'ers out there. Sending good thoughts your way.