S*x and speaking

1.  I am chairing two sessions at the Perth Writers Festival: one about the Mickelberg brothers with Tony Buti, and Tapping into the Zeitgeist, with David Levithan, James Roy, and Indian rock star writer Chetan Bhagat.  I scored the latter because the fabulous AJ Betts is engaged spreading her fabulousness in a workshop at that time.  I can't wait.  I'm also speaking at Spearwood Library for the National Year of Reading on Valentine's Day.

It's a good way to start the year.

2.  I have just sent off the final proof of Losing It, with not a moment to spare.  It's the cumulation of lots of discussions and deep thought about sex and sexuality, and I'm proud of it.  I'm not the only one thinking about sex, though.  Tracy Clark-Flory says here that 'Sex is one of the most profound ways that we have to connect with other human beings, to transcend our physical separation'; Faramerz Dabholwala gives us a history lesson in case we thought sex was invented in the sixties; and Michelle Griffin recommends here that teenagers read (not watch, read) porn and raunchy books.

Something tells me Michelle will approve of Losing It.

3.  For Perth people who might have missed this, it's true: I'm totally moving to Melbourne.

Coming in 2012

1.  Forgive me banging on (yes, this is the post of double entendres), but on 28 March 2012, Losing It will make its way into the world.  Penguin has been doing some great pre-publicity and whipping up anticipation (see here and here), and I can't wait.  It seems an interminably long time since I started it, back in 2008, to now.  It's had three editors, and been rewritten, restructured and re-edited so many times I've lost count.  It's taken in the stories of so many friends who have, for years, been saying, 'So where is it?'  Now, finally, I can say: here.  Nearly.

2.  I loathe this time of the year.  I know I'm Grinchy, but I have yet to live through a year where I don't wash up after Christmas a wreck of exhaustion and wanting nothing more than to lie in a darkened room alone with a bottle of white and a pill to take me to mid-January.  Until I was 12 I loved Christmas and the smell of wheat dust on the easterly and playing chasey with my cousins, darting in and around the shaded paths my grandfather had built in his backyard.  After that, something happened, perhaps a new awareness of the gap between who I was and who some of my family wanted me to be, and Christmas made me feel the objectionable weight of their disappointment.  And now, though Christmas is now filled with civilised lunches and spending time with family and friends I love, I can't shake the dread of it.  Anybody else with me?

It does, however, cause one to reflect on the year that's passed: this year has been a mixed bag, to put it mildly.  I haven't had any publications out, apart from this republication, but I've done a lot of writing, having finished a project for Penguin and almost finished my junior novel, and am excited about the writing (and publications) to come.  And next year there will be lots of festivals I will be appearing at: more news on those as confirmed.  I am extremely happy in my new job, in contrast to this time last year.  So these positive things are an antidote to other aspects of my life, which are difficult and bound to become ever more so.  (My summer reading program is going to include Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking.)

3.  It's been a sad week for the world of literature and ideas: Russell Hoban died, followed by Christopher Hitchens.  My summer reading program will also include more of Hoban's work: I fell in love with Turtle Diary when I was 17 and have re-read it every few years since.  I admired Christopher Hitchens' robust intelligence, erudition and gusto for debate: although I did not agree with some of his opinions, I always respected the sheer weight of information and scrutiny that went into making those opinions.

4.  The garden is an extravagance of produce: corn waves at us through the window each morning; I bite into squirty cherry tomatoes hot from the sun, munch on crisp peas, suck the juice out of sweet strawberries; there is enough rocket to feed a middle-class army.  I've also grown enough garlic to knock out all the characters, major and minor, in Twilight.

5.  I wish you all a productive, happy and uneventful (in the Chinese sense) 2012.  I leave you with one of my favourite Blackadder quotes: Needs must when the devil vomits into your kettle.  Make of that what you will.

New in November

1.  The irony of November being National Novel Writing Month is striking this writer's anvil once again as we speak (pardon the questionable image, it's been that kind of a day).  For me, November is always frantically busy with non-writing-related activities, although lately I have paused to give thanks that I am in a different dayjob to the one which consumed vast amounts of my time and energy twelve months ago.  So I watch my fellow writers' word counts increase through their NaNoWriMo efforts, while the only thing that increases for me is the distance between what I thought was the end of my work-in-progress and the actual end of said WIP.  But what used to be snarkiness re NaNo has transformed into something more gentle: I consider the vast amounts of creative effort being expended by others, and think that this can be no bad thing.

This benign view is probably fuelled by my excitement about my upcoming YA project.  I have tried and failed to get Ozco funding for a couple of years running (close but no cigar), and now I've decided to just Do It.  It's writerly, it's edgy, and I have no idea how I'm going to put it together.  I'm stupidly excited.  And therefore excited about everybody else's creative work.

2.  It is spring, finally.  Here in Western Australia the weather wasn't sure for quite a while, but now days are more blue than rainy, buffeted by pre-summer winds.  The wild fowl on the lakes are followed by their offspring, bottlebrush shrubs (bushes? trees?) are being set upon by squawking parrots, and red-tailed Carnabies are flying regularly overhead, though not in their former numbers.  I've planted spring onions, tomatoes, various greens, capsicum, cucumbers.  A few weeks ago, a complete stranger on a ride-on lawnmower, with a fanatic glint in his eye, levelled the weeds at the front of the house unbidden.  I'm going to plant a row of sunflowers there, and hope that next time he might mow around them.

3. My daughter is studying Bye, Beautiful at school.  That's one way of getting her to read it!

4.  My junior novel is edited, rearranged, fine-tuned.  I'm on the home stretch, but facts, as they are wont to do, are getting in the way of a good story, so I've had to go back to the drawing board for a few things.  And I've just received the blurb for Losing It.  So things are in motion, after feeling like I was running on the spot for quite a while.

5.  I'm writing this on my iMac.  I've never had a computer of my own before (I know, I know), and I'm in love, and jealous as all get-out.  Now I know what all my writer friends have been going on about all these years, and no, this is not a sponsored post.

While waiting

1.  I'm waiting for the final edit for Losing It to arrive in my mailbox. While waiting I'm pondering a) who should launch it and b) what the playlist should be.  My wishlist for a) includes Bettina Arndt, Kathy Lette and Germaine Greer (actually, the person I'd really have liked to launch it is the fabulous, late Dorothy Porter, RIP), or a smart, funny, sassy young woman.  Any suggestions, let me know.  I'm hoping to launch in Perth and Melbourne in April.

For b), I have a list of the obvious suspects from the days of my youth (Salt n Pepa, Prince, U2, Prince, George Michael, Prince) and a few from my daughter's iTunes catalogue (Jizz in my Pants by Lonely Island for one).  However, the problem with contemporary music is the embarrassment of riches it provides in such matters.  (Listened to the lyrics of 50 Cent's Candy Shop lately?)  I don't have any problem with sexual explicitness, obviously, but I do have a problem with the way that female pleasure doesn't seem to rate a mention in pop culture (Missy Elliot notwithstanding).  Part of the reason I wrote the novel is because it's perfectly fine for young female characters to fall in love, but God forbid they actually might want to have sex.  Sex and romance get horribly tangled, and girls get a raw deal.  Anyway, I'll get off my soapbox.  As with a), any suggestions, let me know.

2.  I'm discovering one of the perils of being a mid-career writer: the email that tells you your novel is out of print.  I'm up to the point where practically half of my catalogue falls into this hideous category.  However, The Girl Who Fell Into A Book has just been given a new lease of life in this:

Details here.  If you have a girl aged between 5 and 7, it'd be an awesome Christmas present.  Just saying.

3. If you had a choice between peace and excitement, what would you choose?  Last weekend I got to combine both with a party for my cousin's 40th and staying in a place where my morning view was this:

before going for a swim in an ocean that looked like this:

Spring reflections

*  I once had a poet friend** who would start a new writing project on the spring equinox, without fail, every year.  Winter was her fallow period; summer was all golden phrases and Fremantle sunsets.  If I were able to write to my natural writerly inner clock, I'd probably be the same.  Now, I take time wherever I get it: insomniac mornings, blustery weekends, in my head while swimming laps or sweating on the cross trainer.  It has occurred to me lately that I've got used to this compression of time.  Which doesn't, as I've said before, make it easier not to have big chunks of days or weeks in which to write: I have a big project I am itching to begin but cannot until I know I have guaranteed space to complete it.  But I'm learning how to cut my suit to fit the cloth.  There is something joyful in this, and I'm enjoying writing more than I have in years.  I'm not doing anything ambitious or groundbreaking (right at this moment) - I'm having fun.  And who knows what the equinox might bring?

* I've tried to comment on the nice comments y'all left after my last post, but Blogger says I'm not authorised to access my account (I know!)  Anyway, what I tried to say was, thank you, and I will let you know if there's a launch.  My daughter was going to do the honours but she's gone all mid-teen self-conscious on me.  Kids these days, pffft.

*  I've been madly harvesting and cooking the last of the winter greens: kale, spinach, silverbeet.  The broad beans are flowering promisingly but holding back the pods (probably it's too early), but the onions and garlic are fattening nicely.  For the first time I've planted flowers that aren't bulbs: I have little pots full of purple pansies. 

* The spring equinox hosts my birthday, and my birthday resolution for this year is to find new and creative ways of being naughty (as opposed to being bad, you understand).  A former friend** once said that the older you get, the harder it is to be naughty.  I'm bound and determined to buck this trend, but in case my imagination fails me, please feel free to let me know any naughtiness I can lawfully indulge in at my advancing age.  Also, am I the only one who has birthday resolutions?

* In the shopping centre yesterday I saw two of the girls I met over the summer while researching my junior novel.  Which I took as the universe's way of saying, get on with it.  So I am.





**Well, she probably is still my friend - I just haven't seen her for an age: such are the perils of day job plus writing plus family plus plus plus ... JTK, if you're out there, hello!

***Who also might still be a friend: see above.

A Tale of Two Covers (and a Poster)

Well, not so much a tale as a - oh, anyway, here they are:



I am so happy with this I could just burst!  Thank you Marina.



The Chinese cover of Famous! 



Yes, that is photoshopped.  But it is the best welcome I've had to a school ever.



Children's Book Week etcetera

1.  I have workshop/presentations in Geraldton and Albany for the Fremantle Children's Literature Centre's Youth Lit days; a day in Ballajura Public Library for City of Swan; and Merriwa Primary School.  I'm speaking to kids from year 1 to year 12, a prospect that is slightly terrifying.  (Still, I guess as long as I don't read the year 1s the opening of Losing It I'm sure I'll be fine).  I am preparing new material: the old stuff works perfectly well, but I want to stretch myself a bit, and the students.  There is also the possibility it will be a complete flop and the kids will go, 'What the - ?'  Once when I was doing comedy we had a fabulous idea involving a potato peeler and a set of knitting needles.  The finer details escape me, but not the memory of the audience's puzzled silence.  Let's hope history doesn't repeat.

2.  The daffodils are preparing themselves for spring: the teardrop bulbs that will release glorious yellow petals are fattening.

3.  I went to Sydney and Melbourne last month, to see my wonderful publisher and editors and for some much needed creative-battery recharge.  Which makes the fact I am on the third rewrite of my ghost story bearable.  While I was there I sat on Nina's seat and wondered why I don't live in Melbourne.  But maybe it's better the city is like an affair: maybe daily familiarity would ruin the mystique and the passion.

4.  I promised in May I'd report back on my effort toward Moderation.  I'm doing quite well, thank you.*  Am I finally growing up?

5.  I ran away from my daughter's subject selection night at her high school to eat chocolate fondue with another recalcitrant mother, dragging our daughters behind us.  So the answer to the question in 4. is clearly: maybe not.

6.  I was having a particularly bad day last week, and my old friend B sent me a message, saying: Today at our school we had a 'surprise visitor' (a teacher dressed in a Clifford the Dog costume).  A bunch of year four girls were disappointed because they hoped that YOU were going to be the guest.  They all so love Chess Nuts. :)
 Ah.

* Maybe not all the time, right?  But mostly.  Mostly is good.