Spellcheckers.

Every time I come across this I always have a chuckle.

I have a spelling chequer

It came with my pea sea

It plainly marques for my revue

Miss steaks eye cannot sea.

When eye strike a quay, right a word

I weight four it two say

Whether eye am wrong oar wright

It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid

It nose bee four two late

And eye can put the error rite

It’s rarely, rarely grate.

I’ve run this poem threw it

I’m shore your pleased two no

Its letter perfect in its weigh

My chequer tolled me sew.

- A poem, by Anon

Small Wars

I am halfway through the last book for my course, due in very soon, but when you visit the library during this crucial time, and discover one of the many books on your Must-Get-ASAP-After-The-Course-Ends list beckoning your attention from the ‘Hot Pick’ stand, right beside the loans desk - What do you do? Give it a dismissive wave, a wink, and waltz on past?

I turned back the first few leaves, and read this by T.S. Eliot from The Wasteland:

“ - Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not

Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither

Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,

Looking into the heart of light, the silence. “

Then I read the back blurb, closed it, and scurried up to the loans desk. (I hope I pass my writing course.)

If you loved Sadie Jones’ debut novel The Outcast, nominated for the Orange prize last year and later went on to win the 'Costa First Novel Award', you’ll love her second book Small Wars.

Without giving too much away, this is another emotionally restrained story set in British colonised Cyprus during the 1950’s. Hal Treherne, an ambitious young soldier who in a short time has climbed through the ranks to Major, is posted to the British garrison on the island at Episkopi, accompanied by his wife and two young daughters. But before long things begin to heat up as the British defend the colony against Cypriots battling for enosis, union with Greece. When bombs go off and kill several British soldiers, things go from bad to worse. It takes one loose canon amongst his men, then two, and another - a few who seek revenge, forsake all, and forsake discipline. When Davis - an interpreter, fearful of what he has witnessed, reluctantly informs Treherne of the rape and murder of local villagers during a badly supervised search for guerrillas, the Major is faced with a crisis. Then when Treherne inadvertently discovers the unspeakable methods of interrogation by the Special Interrogations Branch (SIB) against prisoners including young boys, he’s faced with more than a crisis but a growing ‘conscience’, a conscience his superiors' don’t want to know about. Meanwhile his supportive and loving wife Clara notices her increasingly distant husband, and the damaging effect it has on their marriage. Honour, obedience and integrity, country and family come into question. This is a thought-provoking story that resonates profoundly today; a heart-wrenching, compelling read to the last page. Again, Jones’ writing is exquisite. She draws parallels from the landscape of Cyprus on the brink of war: the smells, the sights, the sounds, the grit and stickiness, and the oppressive heat, with the inner turmoil and emotional landscape of man.

"Without looking at her, he took his eye down her horizon - small hill for head, little steep valley into neck, hill of shoulder, deep valley to waist, lovely hill of bottom, long slope of legs, running away down to. . . sea? A coastline at the end of the bed? A cliff. Deep water. Not a home landscape then, an island. He felt a lurching disintegration and struggled for control.

Hal?

Yes?

He felt her move in the dark, and then she took his hand and held it. It was as if she held the thread that would unravel him.

He took his hand away from her."

A beautifully rendered story, and highly recommended.

Quote.

"It's like Scott in the Antarctic.

You simply keep walking.

Don't look at the horizon -

look at your feet.

Just keep walking..."

Peter Temple on writing a novel.

A Song In The Daylight

Nothing is what it seems…

Larissa Stark is a beautiful woman who plays many roles in her life:wife, mother, devoted friend. She has everything she ever wanted, until a chance encounter with a stranger changes Larissa’s idyllic existence forever, leading her to question all the things she once believed were true. Faced with impossible choices and contemplating the unthinkable, Larissa struggles with an eternal mystery: how does one woman follow a divided heart?

Spanning the upscale suburbs of New Jersey, the slums of Manila and the desolate beauty of the Australian outback, ‘A Song in the Daylight’ is a story of the bonds that unite us and the desires that drive us apart.

Paullina Simons is here in New Zealand today on her book tour. I was lucky enough to attend one of her signings at Borders bookshop (Sylvia Park) including a couple of snapshots.

Paullina signing my copy. I was fumbling so it didn't come out as planned.

Managed to squeeze this one in, but forgot to squeeze in the rest. I was swept up in the moment, and the queue behind me was wriggling with impatience, that I forgot to say and ask a dozen questions I'd prepared earlier:

- Paullina, I’m so sorry to hear about the recent passing of your grandmother. (I read her blog)

- I hope you finally found a nanny for your four children.

- I see you’ve been busily writing the screenplay for your bestseller “The Bronze Horseman”. When do we expect to see the movie?

- This is your ninth novel and it looks like a tome! Where do you find the time?

- And so on… (BIG SIGH)

Nanowrimo and other book matters.

Unfortunately, I won’t be participating in the Nanowrimo challenge as much as I’d love to. Although I’ve put aside my novel for a month to give it ‘a little space, a little sunshine and fresh air’, I realised I need the same. A vacation! The writing course is almost over and there’s another course waiting in the wings that I started back in July, abandoned and lost somewhere in all the chaos (see writing room below) that mysteriously occurred while I had my back turned. I’ll probably spend some time digging around searching for it today. So my vacation doesn’t sound like an enviable start, but wait! There’s more. My tbr pile is LEANING which means I'll have to attend its call for attention, and that’s exciting. Where to start? The top of course except I’m secretly planning on adding two more to the pile. In November two fellow bloggers’ books will be released in shops:

Vanda Symon’s third crime novel in a series “Containment” and,

Rachael King's “Magpie Hall” . Her new website is HERE.

Check out the covers – a little spooky.

There’s also another book being released by American writer Paullina Simons who’s visiting Auckland and Wellington next week. I loved her bestseller "The Bronze Horseman" trilogy – an historic novel set in World War II Leningrad under German siege. A friend has asked me to attend a signing so I read the excerpt for “A Song In The Daylight” on Paullina's website HERE. Can’t wait to get my itchy little fingers on that, too.

All in all, I think it’s going to be a lovely vacation and summer is holding out, a perfect combination.

And best wishes to those Nanowrimo participants. I hope to meet the challenge next year, in fact I'll make it a date.

As I was reading Anne Lamott’s book “Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life" I was caught up in these words -

‘It is a matter of persistence and faith and hard work’.

The Inner Critic Costume.

So sorry I haven’t got around to visiting your blogs and posting comments this past week. (Will do some catching up in the next few days.) I’ve been busy in the lion’s den putting my manuscript together ready for the assessors, which I finally sent off yesterday. Yay! Now it is a matter of tidying up loose ends to meet the rest of the course requirements – two more book reviews and a few workshop exercises to do within the next couple of weeks. Not as harrowing as the novel deadline.

Saw this great post on Emma Darwin’s blog: The Inner Critic’s Dressing Up Box. “Your Inner Critic’s real nature is the anti-writing demon.” Go HERE and see which costume is your favourite – it’s worth a look and a bit of fun.

Here are a few I have been wearing quite comfortably these past weeks:

Inner Trainer critic: “Writer’s bum, writer’s bum, writer’s bum.”

Inner Nosey Neighbour: “I don’t know how you can write with the bathroom/kitchen/bedroom looking like that.”

Inner Granny: “Do get out while the sun’s shining, darling.”

The Inner Critic list is long, and light-hearted. I'm sure I fit most of them. Do check it out.

The lived-in look.

Oh, here we go. Again!

Do you see waves forming? No. Not ripples. WAVES! From here, I recommend that you scroll down as fast as possible till you reach the bottom, one or two blinks should do it.

I told you to blink!

Well, hello. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.

Whose place is this?

Dunno what happened to the piano. It did occupy that space a couple of months ago.

I got quite a shock when I discovered this corner. It occupies about 1/10th of the room say, so if I think about it, that means 10% of non-clutter, which in my mind, equals 10% non-production, 90% production. That's not so bad after all. :)

In the New Zealand Listener I found an article about the lived-in look, or the lived-on look. This YA novelist talks about how you can tell a lot about a writer from his desk. I found it inspiring, and hilarious.

"Towards the right rear are a couple of deeper scars. That's where I used to skewer rejection slips with a school compass. After a while, I realised how childish this looked. I threw away the compass and used a pocketknife, instead."

"The bottom of the pottery jar is a singular environment holding pencil shavings, eraser fragments, biscuit crumbs, half a tissue, and the remains of various moths/beetles. If I were to beam UV light into my pottery jar, I wouldn't be surprised to see multi-cellular life come crawling up over the rim."

It's LOL material. If you want to read the rest of this author's article go here. But what a shame. There is no image of his writing room on the website except in the magazine itself (September 19 issue). Description doesn't make up for it - a jungle of books on the floor, open filing cabinets, plants/vines drooping everywhere, you can't even see the desk! Whatever. This room is ugly, and beautiful. I feel inspired.

New roles for publishers/authors in NZ.

One of the students on my writing course brought to our attention a show on TVNZ 7 called Media 7. If you haven't already seen this, click on Media 7, Series 3, Episode 13, Chapter 4 .

It'll download the show which appeared on the 15th October. There are a few short interviews with authors/writers, and a panel with Graham Beattie, bookshop owner Carol Beu, and author and director of NZ Book Month Michele Powles. It's about ten minutes long. Worth a look if you want to know the state of writing in publishing books here and its future, as well as other interesting snippets for writers.

Corvus: A Life With Birds.

I read this gorgeous, beautifully written memoir about a year ago that I finally did something about. Yes, my greed to possess every book I fall in love with whispered "Come get me," so now I own this darling too, one I have longed for, that I miss. Perhaps it has something to do with the seduction of perpetual bird chorus outside my window, butterflies floating past, green leafy trees and blue sky, spring in the air. The other day when I saw the discounted price, I ordered it straight away, right off the Internet. Amazingly, this little pearl arrived on my front doorstep the following morning! How’s that for service? I almost embraced and kissed my laptop.

I know some of you have read this book but those bird-lovers out there or whoever, this is a must read, a book you might like to have on your shelf, one you can pull out and return to, and savour over and over again. This past week I have been snatching moments of pleasure (away from the draft-in-progress) re-reading snippets of the lives’ of Madame Chickeboumskaya aka Chicken (a rook), and Spike the magpie. So charming. And poignant. It's a gorgeous, gorgeous memoir.

Here’s the back cover blurb:

“Sixteen years ago, Esther Woolfson’s daughter rescued a fledgling rook. That rook, named Chicken, quickly established herself as part of the family, and other birds, including an irascible cockatiel and a depressive parrot, soon followed. But it was the corvids – members of the crow family – who amazed Woolfson with their personality and their capacity for affection. This beguiling blend of memoir and natural history combines the author’s fascination with all things avian, from the mechanics of flight to the science of birdsong, with her funny, tender stories of life among the birds.”

Esther Woolfson has a website here. It includes a blog but I noticed she hasn’t updated it since March.

Awards, and Nanowrimo.

My apologies for responding to these two awesome awards so late – accepted with much appreciation, and laughter, and grace.

Thank you “Oh!” and “She-Poet” – two wonderful, inspirational bloggers.

The 'Zombie Chicken Award' from Oh:

“The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on…”

And,

'One Lovely Blog Award' from She-Poet:

I’m not going to pass these awards onto any particular bloggers but if some of my followers - those who comment on my blog regularly - would like to choose one, please do, as you all encourage and inspire. Thanks again.

This past week I’ve trawled through six chapters; getting nowhere fast. I’ve been ‘Swanning’ haven’t I, but ‘Swanning’ is really a pseudonym for ‘recharging the battery’. (I know, I just made that up but really, it’s true!) This week I plan to edit the next ten chapters as my due date approaches at the speed of light. I think someone should invent a “Chapter Counter” to keep me on track. Some good news on the front, I finished my workshop, ready for submission the week it’s due, so that’s one less concern. I’m beginning to feel lighter as October shoots ahead.

Also, I’ve been pondering, I’ve been visiting the Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) site, watching the excitement grow as this year’s challenge prepares itself. I might sign up and participate! If you get a chance, visit the site here. (More on this later)

Isn’t it funny? I have so much else to do and all I can think of is finding more to do, but isn’t that the way a writer’s world unfolds. I wonder if I’ll have time to fit in a bit of ‘Swanning’.

10 Simple Steps to 'Swanning'.

The following are basic steps to ‘Swanning’ so you can fluff it up with extras by tossing in a few more chocolates or whatever you desire:

1. Floating out of bed, late.
2. Sliding on your silky robe and slippers.
3. Snubbing the mirror.
4. Waddling around stuff without stumbling.
5. Drifting into the kitchen avoiding the bench area by the sink.
6. Whistling while making strong coffee.
7. Nibbling at disgusting things.
8. Immediately follow this up by slouching on the sofa with a book.
9. Ensure more disgusting nibbles at hand.
10. For morning tea, which is not long after all of the above, further coffee is served with a chocolate truffle or two or three… or a chocolate the size of whatever imaginable containing liqueur. A bit early but ‘Swanning Day’ breaks all the rules, and so the pattern goes. Enjoy.

A day has passed and somehow my ‘Swanning Day’ merged into Sunday. Tomorrow, I tell myself, is detoxification day. I heard a chuckle somewhere. Why is the cat staring at me?

This past week I began my second draft, and surprisingly, found the time to read another book unrelated to the writing course. For my draft I’m up to chapter 3, 21 chapters to go. The crisis over a scene in chapter 10 remains (see last post). On the 26^th of this month I have to submit the entire manuscript. I still have other course requirements to complete. I still have this and that to do. I have visitors coming. I have housework - I can’t find the piano! These past few weeks my husband has been looking off colour.

Extra: Did you notice my new profile photo? Do you like it? A couple of weeks ago while having a ‘Swanning Day’ I accidentally stumbled and somehow found myself peering in the mirror. When I made a quick comparison to my (old) photo I got a terrible fright! They didn’t even look related. L

I hope everyone is having a fabulous weekend. J

FESTINA LENTE

There’s a saying or a Latin proverb, Festina Lente, which means ‘hurry slowly’. I’m the impatient kind, eager beaver, so eager that those two words don’t mean anything to me, don’t even exist in my brain but of course they do, so I’m constantly having to remind myself that my story needs to be the best that it can be, before releasing it into the big wide world. FESTINA LENTE.

With the first good draft complete, it’s time for the big edit. This week I’m planning on trimming, cutting, dicing and splicing, maybe even hacking at my novel! Hopefully not to pieces! Today I’m struggling, deciding, and debating as to whether I should cut out a scene in chapter ten and paste it at the beginning of the story as prologue or chapter one. Why? In class most of the feedback from the student’s pointed out that they lacked sympathy for my main character from the outset, from chapter one. It wasn’t till after chapter ten, after reading that scene that they really began to sympathise. With the scene at the beginning, readers will certainly sympathise, and I need them to sympathise if not from page one, at least somewhere in chapter one. The particular scene is a vital scene; the central theme of the story and without it there wouldn’t be a story to tell. In crime novels, as far as I know, the murder scene generally appears at the beginning of the book as prologue or chapter one - it sets the story up: Who did it? Who did this horrendous thing? I guess mine is a little like that though my story isn’t a murder-mystery or crime story. But it is compelling or intriguing. What I’m concerned about then is that if I cut and paste this scene, will it lose its page-turning impact, will readers bother? So you see, it’s proving to be something of a dilemma for me, but may seem like a simple and fast solution to others. As I sit here and ponder out the window – (It’s raining and lightening streaks across my lap-top in warning, and there’s rolling thunder, the kind that eventually thumps above your head and rattles your house, the kind that makes you jump up and yell which I just did, and the cat has turned into a porcupine.) – I’m thinking I may not lose the intrigue the story invokes at all. I’m thinking the scene itself will still compel readers to turn those pages till they reach the very end. It’s better than the risk of having them disliking my character from page one, wrinkling their noses on page two, and suddenly flinging my story across the room! I’m not that superstitious but as I ponder out the window again the sun is shining and birds chatter; so I’m not sure if that timely or untimely lightening bolt was a sign to me. Probably not.

Side note: It’s early afternoon and since writing the above I’ve spoken to a fellow student who thought that if I left the scene in Chapter 10, there’s still plenty of tension and conflict to hold the reader’s attention. Gah. Who said editing was simple and fast? FESTINA LENTE

Why do I blog?

I wish I could write about the other students’ work, what they’re producing – what their fiction or non-fiction is about, how they’re coping with the course, who they are – a little about their private lives, and so on. Inevitably the solution to that is NO. Their stories and their lives belong to them, which always leaves just ME or I. And me or I, often feels selfish and self-absorbed as if there’s nothing else to write about, which brings me to “Why do I blog?”.

My blog isn’t really about book reviews and it’s definitely not about the latest news on book events, authors, publishing, or anything as informative as that. My blog is about my novel-in-progress and the experience, the journey; and sharing this with other aspiring writers, like-minded people, or whoever is interested, or whoever might find it helpful in their own journey. I’m certainly no expert and I may have it wrong and I may have it right. I probably can’t write and I probably can. I enjoy what I do and sometimes it’s frightening. I might succeed or I might fail. On occasion I feel like giving up; most of the time I have a tremendous drive. See. It’s still about ME!

Anyway, here’s what I plucked off our camellia tree the other day, which is always lovely to sit next to my laptop and admire.

 

 

Spring is definitely here. As I peer out across the reserve and neighbourhood, gerberas and daffodils nod cheerfully from driveways and patios, camellias and rhododendrons dazzle brightly in back yards, some leave stunning carpets of red. Nearby, a tui ‘sneezes’ and a heron screeches overhead, swooping low and gracefully lands in a pine tree; a handsome king perched on his throne overlooking the territory. Soon it’s going to rain.

Did you notice the lack of “I” in that last paragraph? I’m not sure if I could keep it up though. Look! Did you just catch that? Two more “I’s”. BIG SIGH.

A peek at my draft.

I’m back already! Thought I would be longer than anticipated but nope, I finished the final chapter of my novel last Thursday, and sent it away for feedback and comments. It was lovely to receive a couple of responses the following day with praise and congratulations for reaching the first milestone. Here it is waiting to be attacked with my red pen.

 

 

First, the desk screams for orderliness and a dust. Then I need to begin reading the first of three novels pending in order to satisfy the course requirements. Plus, I have to prepare for two workshops on the process of writing, to be conducted on the forum in a month’s time, and which I haven’t yet worked out how to present on-line, let alone found a topic.  One advantage about an on-line course is that you don’t have to stand in front of a whole lot of people.  I’d definitely fail. Over the weekend I read a student’s novel from beginning to end writing up comments at the same time. The story was fantastic but my eyes are dry and sting; I kept away from the mirror when I crawled out of bed this morning. There is one more project (non-fiction, I think) to come through for feedback, and then I’ll be done in the critiquing department. I forgot - in between I hope to find the time to sift through further feedback I’ve received for my own work, and make the final adjustments to as many chapters as possible, before posting it up for the second assessor – due by the end of next month. Oh, gosh. This all sounds so overwhelming, I think I should put that ‘Gone Fishin’ sign back.