Writing tip 5 - Live, look, listen, learn. Love. = le livre

What is it about words that begin with the letter 'L"?

Personally I think these impact quite a bit on what is produced. Especially the first one. Important to get out and live life as we go along. Funny thing about writers (big generalisation coming up!) is that we tend to be introverts.

I was born an introvert and grew into one strange combination of someone who is alternately happy to hide away, while at the same time committing myself to activities that force me into the social sphere. I have never regretted the latter. Not wishing to be crude, but let's just say that if I hadn't done that, and if I hadn't kept doing that, I might well have disappeared up any one of my own apertures, a tendency that, even now, I must constantly fight in my own writing.

So my tip is this: don't forget to live. I mean to really engage in living, not to be a fly in the wall, or always in the kitchen at parties (remember the old refrain). On the other hand, sometimes it's good to be a fly on the wall, so this doesn't mean never stepping back. It's just that most of us are already quite good at stepping back.

Look; find new ways of seeing. As writers we need a certain flexibility of mind - a willing suspension of disbelief - just as readers and audiences do. I think this is about taking time to try on the other person's shoes before rushing into judgement. I doesn't mean characters can't be judgemental, but the writer needs to stand back from the character (along with the reader) and know them as separate from self. This also protects the writer from being too distressed when people don't like what they write, or don't like a character.

This is because the writing is not the same as the writer - it is a product of thought, plot decisions, character decisions and play. The process is captured as a product, but by the time the product is produced, the process has moved on. At the same time, the writing can only come from the writer, so the writer needs to constantly grow as a person.

Listen. It takes patience and humility to really hear what another person is saying, especially if that person is very different from oneself. Language is imperfect and we all do our best to express what we mean, but there are so many things that interfere with this. This is such fertile ground for the writer - the stumbling imprecisions of communication. I have recently read Graham Swift's Last Orders (yes, I am a late bloomer in every way - like a Dixie Chick - taking the long way around). If you want a book that brilliantly illustrates the difficulties that people have in reaching out to one another through language read Last Orders.

Learn. Never stop. Everyone has more to learn and much to impart. If writing isn't about learning about the many possibilities of life, then what do we do it for?

Love. Write with love. Keep going until you love what you write. Find a little love and understanding for each of your characters, even (especially?) the villains.

Writing Prompt:

Do something you have never done before; visit a place you have never visited before. Anywhere. Engage, observe, talk to people, listen and learn. Then, as soon as possible, write down your observations either as notes, stream-of-consciousness, or creatively as a poem or scene.

Merry Christmas and love to all...

Three little words for this Christmas - Mercy, Harmony, Transformation

I picked these words at random from a little pack of Inner Beauty cards. It's a nice little pack of cards, each with a single word, coloured to represent or invoke the feeling that goes with the word. There's no explanation as to what the word means, so in that spirit, I will leave it to mean whatever it does to you.

They're good words for this time of the year, I think. Good words for any time of the year.

Thank you for reading the blog this year. I have been posting for just over a year now, and have really enjoyed sharing my thoughts, and sharing in your thoughts for that time. My greatest joy has been to provide an indication of some of the work that others are doing in this local writing network.

I have more writing tips scheduled for the coming period, and I hope to entice more people from the group to provide tasters on their writing projects throughout the year and links to their sites (if they have them). I'll be putting out some of my thoughts on books I read as the year goes along. And probably more things from left field. So if this kind of thing interests you, I hope you continue to pop in when you get the chance.

Merry Christmas!                                         Buon Natale!         Melkm Ganna

Joyeux Noël!                         शुभ क्रिसमस                      Wesolych Swiat Bozego Narodzenia

Frohe Weihnachten!                                                                 Рождество

¡Feliz Navidad y próspero Año Nuevo!       メリークリスマス

圣诞快乐普通话                          Glædelig Jul                                                                 聖誕快樂

Writing tip 4 - Play. Have fun.

No, not me, but those are my brothers

Now I'm thinking this one should have come before the editing tip, but then again, it should come afterwards, as well. It's one of those things that it's good to remember all through the writing process, because it's play that keeps the spark alive.

Whenever I get stuck, or lose faith in what I am doing, I take some time off and when I come back, I come back to play.

When we were kids we used to use the word 'say' to explore the possibilities of where stories could go.

Kid one: "Say there's this girl called Merry-go-round, and she's always dancing around in circles..."

Kid two: "Yes, and say her brother tries to stop her and say he keeps getting knocked over, and he keeps getting back up and trying to stop her, but say he keeps getting knocked over..."

Kid One: "And say his mum comes in..."

Kid Two: "And say..."

By wandering down the side streets of the imagination - by daydreaming (play dreaming) - the story is progressed. Play can take the project in surprising directions.

So I often give myself a good talking to. And I answer back! My advice to myself is: be foolhardy, be playful. Follow the white rabbit to see where it leads.

Writing prompt

A play conversation without restriction. Really go for it! Take two characters and have a Kid One, Kid Two kind of conversation between them. Play. Have fun. Be as silly as you like.

Summer Lovin' over the holidays...

Yes, this is just a little promo. There are some great stories in here, and also an excerpt from my debut novel. To be read on the beach or by a warm winter fireplace (if you are more towards the top of the world). It is available through Fremantle Press. Oh Molly, do yourself a favour ;-)

Writing tip 3 - avoid imposing interpretation - sometimes

Editing the sky

Well, of course, all tips are made to be untipped - there are exceptions to the rule - but I have often reinvented this one for myself: the more I cut away , the stronger the writing seems to become. This is nothing new. Any course on writing will tell you not to preach, but it's easier said than done.

The key is to let the bald story do the work and to relinquish control over manipulating the theories the readers might want to form. I don't want to tell the reader what to make of a character, or a story. I figure that's their job. Risky business, but what can you do?

First draft, of course, is open slather. Write whatever you feel like.  I'd go so far as to say it's necessary to overwrite the first draft. Throw everything at it; all the purple prose you can dream up. You never know - you could just come up with the perfect, original metaphor.  Plus, it gives you stuff to cut out. What is edited out forms a kind of subtext, a feeling of depth - that something has been left unsaid. I think that it's in these spaces that the story really starts to live.

Once I have an idea of what the story is going to be, I start cutting back, but not before. That stage might take a year, or a couple of months. It doesn't matter. At this point I really try to start sticking to the what, rather than the why. This means dialogue, actions, body language, thoughts - but exercising restraint in developing fully formed, or fully explored thoughts too soon. It takes patience, and self-discipline (two attributes not particularly well-formed within my own personality). Gradually a picture emerges as characters get to know one another, and readers reassess their original perceptions. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it.

Writing Prompt

Take an old story or piece of writing, save the original copy and a new copy and edit the new copy within an inch of its life. By comparing the two side by side you will be able to tell how much cutting the writing can take before it ceases to make sense.

Check out this blog

Here's another blog address to put on the list - relevant topics around writing dilemmas: a couple of good ones, one on self-publishing, and another on the e-book.

I'm learning French...

Apologies for my accent - or lack of accents! Not sure how to put them up on this English-speaking blog. The spell check doesn't help.

Apparently learning a language other than one's mother tongue is very good for the brain. My tutorial sources - a couple of well-known phrasebooks accompanied by CDs.

Je suis etudiante. Je suis desole je suis en retard. J'ai besoin de trouve une nouveau tete. Je suis seulement australien. J'ecoute le CD dans la voiture, mais je ne comprend pas. Les autres pense que je suis folle. Peut-etre je suis folle. Au secour!

I have so much respect for people who come to an English-speaking country without the language, and who then set about learning enough of it to actually make themselves understood and to understand others. Hats off to you!

One of the things that has occurred to me as I try to get my mouth around the language, is just how difficult it is to engage the equipment needed for speech. It's such a complex skill. The mechanics are difficult, and the tendency is to hear what we expect, and not what is actually there. I actually did do French classes when I was at school, so I thought I would have a basic platform to work from, but it occurs to me that immersion is the only way - hence the constant soundtrack in my car has become the sound of (is it?) an English woman speaking French, and me copying her, trying to get the words right. I spend my drives talking to myself. No Bluetooth.

At least now I know how to say Stop thief! and Can I buy you a drink? What more do you need?

Writing Tip 2 - Establish a writing routine

Mark Twain: "The secret of getting ahead is getting started."

I find it helpful to work on my big writing project every day, even if it is only for half an hour. This keeps it ticking away in the back of my mind and encourages my imagination to take flight. I set myself a daily routine and stick to it, as far as possible.

I recently read an article in the Weekend Australian Review Magazine which reviewed a book by Mason Currey about how many of the great writers have had set routines and habits (some quite unusual) which have helped them in their work. Routines work.

Writing Prompt

He thought knew he could fly...


or

write for a few minutes, stream of consciousness, in response to this picture

Natasha Lester to speak at last meeting of the Book Length Project Group for the year, December 15.

Our last meeting for 2013 will take place on December 15. It promises to be a great day. We will be bringing food to share, exchanging 'secret Santa' books and sharing congenial conversation. 

As a very special treat Natasha Lester will be present to discuss her work and some writing tips with us.


Award Winning Author Natasha Lester

Natasha Lester is the award winning author of two novels, What is Left Over, After and If I Should Lose You. She has been described by The Age newspaper as “a remarkable Australian talent” and was awarded an Emerging Writers' Fellowship by the Australia Council for her second book, as well as a Publisher Fellowship at Varuna, The Writers House. She is also a recipient of the TAG Hungerford Award for Fiction.

In between writing novels and looking after her three children, Natasha blogs at http://whilethekidsaresleeping.wordpress.com and writes poems, short stories and essays, which have appeared in journals such as Overland and Wet Ink. She is currently working on her third novel.

Lucas North

I was very saddened by the news of the loss of author Lucas North from our Australian writing community. Lucas was a tour de force, a prolific novelist, and writer generally, and someone who contributed a significant amount to us all. He reviewed an early draft of my debut novel's manuscript and provided invaluable feedback. I first met him when I attended a workshop that he ran on dealing with rejection, which despite the obvious self-depreciating humour in the title, was one of the best workshops I have attended, and what I learned there often encouraged me to continue in the face of difficulties over the years. Really the workshop was about resilience. Lucas was incredibly resilient and hard-working in the craft. In fact he achieved a considerable amount in terms of writing success, but the most important thing is that he continued to make a contribution to us all. Our community will be the poorer for his absence.

Writing tip 1... understand what it is that motivates you

I'll be putting a tip up with an explanation on this day each week. The first is about writing motivation and clarity of purpose.

Try to clarify your reasons for writing and what it is that you want to achieve

This is my suggestion - spend some minutes jotting down what it is that has brought you to this endeavour, and what you want to get out of it. Discuss it with interested others in a relaxed, social situation. I hope this will help you to become clear in your own mind about how to stay on track with your long-term writing project.

I hope this is a useful tip.  It's about knowing your heart and mind and staying true to your vision. Your vision can change, but if it does, check back with yourself to ensure that it is a vision that continues to motivate you.

I think many writers, myself included, write for reasons that are not all that hard-headed, and not altogether within consciousness. If I write simply for the love of it, that's ok. Okay.

Personally, I'm still not entirely sure why I continue to write things down, but I know part of the story - the values that are important to me. Sometimes external factors (the changing scene of publishing; other peoples' perceptions; others', or our own, expectations of how long something should take, or other expectations) can send us off-track, and this can be demoralising.  Negative feedback on your work-in-progress can do this, especially if it cuts across your unique artistic vision.

If in doubt, return to your vision. With regard to feedback, be open to advice, evaluate it, and use what is useful to you - when people provide feedback on your work they are almost always trying to help, and often they do, but in the end the work belongs to the writer, and the writer has the final call on the direction it should go.   Whether this direction is likely to be commercially viable might (or might not) be a different question.

My feeling is that you will know if you are being true to your vision if you are continuing to enjoy the process.

Now for the writing prompt. Prompts are about exercising the writing muscle - bringing in an external impetus to get you started. Try this one, if you like:

Writing prompt:

Write (stream-of-consciousness - don't edit) about an incident or event shared with a childhood friend, or an incident that occurred with a childhood rival



 

 

Writing tips...

Other half coming soon

I'm no expert, but I have been struggling with this writing caper for many years in many different forms from the pragmatic to the professional, from report writing to academic to creative to the just plain fantastical. Ah well, to be more specific, plays, poetry, short stories, a completed (done and dusted) novel and a few incomplete ones.

I guess we could all come up with a list of writing tips, and I'm not trying to teach my grandmother how to suck eggs (although I suspect my own grandmothers never did such a thing) but in coming up with these I was trying to clarify what it is that works for me, or what it is that I think might work.

So I thought I would do this thing - for the next however long I will put up a writing tip a week, scheduled to come up on the same day. Along with this will be a writing prompt - something to push against to do a bit of writing. The prompt might be a picture, an idea, a quote - I'm not sure yet, but it will be something you might choose to use, or lose.

I get the feeling that this blog is read mainly by other writers, or people interested in the process of writing, along with the Book Length Project Group network, so I'm hoping it will be of interest and of some use.

The first one will go up in the coming week.

Writers' retreat - New Norcia

A small group of BLPG writers went to the New Norcia retreat, and Pat has sent this report. Sounds like they had a great time! Well done to Pat for all her hard work in organising this, and to Trisha for the writing prompts.

Here's Pat's report and a couple of photos from the retreat...

New Norcia

The retreat to New Norcia was a blessing in unexpected ways. True, I was expecting peace, I was expecting quiet – and it was provided in full. I was expecting impressive architecture and interiors filled by paintings and object d art and had the pleasure of viewing it. But I also found the vibe was friendly and on Saturday night the pub was a revelation of steaming life. There were check shirts and cowboy hats dancing to Joe Cocker, truck drivers at their regular stop, and happy young backpackers behind the bar. I wasn’t really expecting the unstrained flow of conversation, not just about writing, but about the life behind writing that informs and shapes it for each one of us in our own time and space. I wasn’t really expecting to learn so much about my fellow writers and their journeys toward writing. If anyone remembers the show on SBS called ‘Front up,’ it was a bit like that. Scratch any ordinary person on the street and find a fascinating story underneath. We read to each other and the feedback was intelligent and informed. It’s true I didn’t do as much writing as I’d planned, but I was probably having too much fun.

 

My take on Margaret Atwood's "In Other Worlds - SF and the Human Imagination"

Over the last few days I've been rearranging my bookshelves - my equivalent to rearranging the underwear drawer. I can't seem to throw out my old books either (I thought) as I rediscovered some torn and yellowed volumes from high school. My handwriting hasn't improved since then, but more disturbingly the quality of the observations in the margins hasn't shifted much either. Seems I am destined to be eternally immature, despite my best efforts to conform to an outwardly changing image.

Anyway, the old and the new are now in authorial alphabetical order under six categories - Novels, Non-fiction stuff about ideas, Plays, Poetry, Short Story Anthologies, and Memoir. A seventh category, Miscellaneous, is miscellaneous.

I mention this along with Margaret Atwood's book because I have been taking breaks in my categorising and cataloguing to read it, and in a funny kind of way, it has probably influenced how I have interpreted it.

I found the reading satisfying in the same way that I now look at my neat bookshelves and find them satisfying. Some interior designers talk about autobiographical décor, and it's good to know that our eclectic taste in household stuff now has a name to legitimise it. If the furniture is autobiographical, I'd say the books we read and keep are even more so.

In Other Worlds might similarly be seen as an autobiographical account of Margaret Atwood's relationship with Science Fiction from the time she was a child to (loosely) current times (the book was published in 2011). I found it to be enjoyably fragmentary. This fragmentary but lightly themed approach is satisfying in the same way as it is to rummage through a box of dress-ups. You can go through the box systematically, or pick and choose, or take a lucky dip in to see what you come up with. For me, given that I was in my sorting out and cataloguing mode, I enjoyed reading it systematically from front to back, and I suppose the various essays, literary critiques, observations, talks and self-disclosures about this whole sci-fi field has been edited or arranged in that particular order to provide a sense of chronology.

There are observations regarding a fairly wide range of speculative novels that have entered the author's orbit over the years - H. Rider Haggard, George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Yevgeny Zamyatin, HG Wells, Winthrop, Ursula le Guin, Sherri Tepper , Kazuo Ishiguro, Bryher, and others. Some I had just handled and lingered over in my concurrent reorganising activity. Others, like that of Kazoo Ishiguro - Never Let Me Go is one I haven't yet read, but now will.

When Margaret Atwood came to the Perth Writers Festival earlier this year, she sat with China Mieville to debate the finer points of the field. I gather that sometimes people get very upset over apparently competing categories - I wonder if maybe it's a mapping thing, including, but not entirely to do with territoriality, status and an idea of scarcity. Incidentally, mapping is something else that is discussed in one of the essays in the book.

If you're still not sure what Margaret Atwood's thoughts are with regard to Sci Fi, I think this book goes a long way towards giving a more rounded understanding of her perspective on the debate. More importantly it gives a sense of her long-standing love and respect for the whole field, whether it be considered high, middle or low-brow.

Five stars from me!

Other good blog sites provided by writers networked into this group...

louise-allan.com great book reviews and reflections on life

Contemplating life

The Incredible Rambling Elimy elimy.blogspot.com has great book reviews and reflections on writing

burinsmith.com for great reviews and writing reflections and bentown.wordpress.com  for food

Little Blog of Phlegm, (actually to do with phlegm) and vego camper (to do with preparing vegetarian food whilst camping).

Maureen Helen lanches new blog!

What a great, thought provoking read. Well worth visiting this blog with posts on the Western Australian health system.

Maureen Helen has previously given presentations to the Book Length Project Group.

Distraction and reading

In his much lauded book of 1982 Camera Lucida Roland Barthes wrote about a concept called punctum. This related to the art of photography, and it meant the thing in a photo that caught your eye, that the viewer kept returning to think about, even after the photograph has been removed. This was contrasted against the idea of studium, the boring bits, or boring photographs, if you like. The bread and butter that backgrounded the honey.

Punctum provides a little reward each time, I think, and because of this we tend to seek more. I mention this because the idea of it has influenced the way I think about the changes that are taking place in our collective way of being in the world, and particularly what I think might be our increasing distractability. While this might be seen as linked to the ability to multi-task (as a positive thing) I wonder if there is also something in this increasing skill of dividing attention (that is quickly flicking between one thing and another) that reduces our ability to concentrate on one thing, and to follow through with it. I think we are seeking punctum at the expense of studium - in other words we want the icing without the cake, and with much the same result.

What does this have to do with reading? Well, in some ways, it means we are reading more - which is a good thing, although the more we are reading might be a kind of flit, flit, flit as we go from one thing to another like dragonflies over a pond. (Yes, I also read somewhere about the tyranny of we, and when I say we, really what I am saying is me.)

What I had started to find was that my concentration and patience to tolerate studium was reducing, and my seeking out of punctum increasing, which might be all very well, but it meant that I was missing out on finishing some very good books that needed to settle in before they revealed their considerable gifts, often deeper and more valuable than those of the easier to read 'hold your attention' 'gripping' books (not always, but sometimes) and more soul-feeding.

So what did I do? I made a decision to settle my mind, to get out less, stay in more, reduce my screen time, increase my page and notebook time, to be mindful of the things around me, and to sleep and daydream enough to restore and repair. The whole thing has been restorative and anxiety-reducing. My concentration is improving. The novel I am writing, one that had been stuck for a little while, is starting to move again. And I am back to reading more books.

I might have the whole punctum/studium thing wrong, so I am going to pick up Barthes' book again and read it to see. It's been quite a while and I have changed in the interim. But I'm changing back.

Inspiration = a good book

Every now and again I need to remind myself what it is that I really value in books (as opposed to writing). Nothing tells me that more clearly than the books themselves. I love them for their own sake, for what they teach me, and because they inspire me to try to create something of value that will also give someone pleasure and inspiration. Granted, this will be yet another book in a burgeoning living reef of books. Still, within the limitations of my abilities, it will be the best I can write.

I suppose I tend to choose to read books either on the basis of their being of value to me at this particular time in my life, or more frequently it seems that the choice is serendipitous. So although it concerns me sometimes that I have so much admiration for the books that I have reviewed on this blog, because it might seem that the net is spread a little too wide, in fact I have so much admiration for these books because they are (in my opinion) very, very good and seem to have pulled off what must be to any writer who has tried to do likewise, an act verging on magic - the completion of stories (already something to be admired)  that feel real, effortless in their execution, sophisticated in their expression, and emotionally intelligent and courageous in their exploration of character and circumstance. I find that lately I am falling in love (or at least falling in like) with each new book that I read.

I am currently in the middle of reading Joyce Carol Oates incredible (no, really incredible!) book published in 2012 - Mudwoman.  (OMG!!!) If you are looking for a book that incorporates depth of character, political perspicacity, form as function, just plain writing skill at the elite athlete level, then this is a book to read and study. I certainly intend to do so. (For me) it is reminiscent of Susan Johnson's The Broken Book as it disorients the reader along with the disorientation of the protagonist, but in the same way that the poetry of e.e. cummings might do. You have to give in to it, swim with it, if you are to discover the wonders of the underwater world that it reveals. Whether we are to take this as the world of the collective unconscious, the dream world, the imagined life after life world, or more prosaically (possibly) the world of writerly metaphor, it's worth diving in.

Apologies for the purple prose, but I am in the purple prose mood this morning. Hope you find time to get hold of a copy of this remarkable book and read it. Would love to know what you think of it.

Book Review - "Life in Half a Second" by Matthew Michalewicz

A lovely-sounding lady (via email interaction) called Jody recently sent me a review copy of this book, subtitled How to achieve success before it's too late, a timely gift out of the blue for a few different reasons.

The one that is of relevance to this blog revolved around the concerns expressed in the course of the Australian Society of Authors Congress which was held in Sydney last month. Like the music industry, the book industry is in a state of some uncertainty with regard to what the future holds in relation to authors' livelihoods. This is because of apparent diminishing p-book sales, variable e-book sales, and the looming take-up of the industry by large and powerful companies which are making what they see as good business decisions. They probably are good decisions in the shorter term, but what happens if the writers stop writing?

It won't happen, of course. Writers, being the peculiar people that we are, will continue to write, but the practicalities of earning enough to be able to eat, support our families, and pay the bills does tend to steal time away from our primary activity, which is likely to impact on the quality of what we are able to produce.

The long and short of it is that writers, like anyone else, need to be able to become somewhat entrepreneurial, if they are to survive. While many of us have spent the better part of our lives writing, honing that skill, not so many have invested time and passion into learning the skills of entrepreneurial success. This is where Author, Matthew Michalewicz's excellent book comes in.

I hesitate to call this a self-help book, because although it is eminently readable and practical, its scope is a little wider than the genre label might suggest. The author's personal philosophy shines through as he reveals his take on the all-important question of creating meaning in life, and the great satisfaction of not merely entertaining dreams, but actually realising them. It seems that we might even exceed our most dearly held goals, given the right attitude of mind, skills and work ethic.

This very readable book tracks through actions for achieving any goal that the reader might have, whatever that might be - whether it is to develop a successful business, write a book, write a very good book, become a body-builder, or start a successful charity to address a benevolent cause that is dear to your heart. While Michalewicz doesn't claim particular originality with regard to the ideas contained between the covers, he writes that he has used the approach in each of his business ventures.

The author has the credentials to write this book with some credibility, having achieved considerable success in a range of different endeavours. I don't suppose he was obliged to write this book to make his fortune, but in sharing his process, others might learn the techniques that have worked so well for him.

Michalewicz uses the metaphor of five doors one passes through, in order to achieve what it is that they wish to achieve, and at the end of each chapter details specific actions that guide the reader towards attainment of the goal. The book includes footnotes relating to the research supporting the writer's particular claims, and although these are interesting, they are possibly not essential to the text given the author's expertise in the area.

According to the information about the author at the end of the book, Matthew Michalewicz 'is an international expert in entrepreneurship, innovation, and success psychology'. He 'has a track record of starting businesses from scratch and selling them for tens of millions of dollars'. He has written a number of other books including Winning Credibility, Puzzle-Based Learning, and Adaptive Business Intelligence. At the time of the book being published he was lecturing at the University of Adelaide as a Visiting Fellow on the subject of technology commercialisation. A link to his website is included here.

Rememberence day, November 11

Book Review - The House of Fiction by Susan Swingler

The House of Fiction wasn't on my list, but I saw it at the Fremantle Arts Centre on the weekend, and after having seen the author interviewed on Australian Story about a week ago, couldn't resist buying it. As I said to the lady in the bookshop, I can't not buy a book when I go into a bookshop, and this one jumped out at me. She said she didn't mind at all.

This has pushed other books on my list further down, especially since I found myself strangely drawn into the story once I'd started reading. The writing style is unobtrusive and leaves the intrigue of the story itself to do the work. It does this in a self-contained way that suggests considerable restraint on the part of the author, quite a feat, given the content.

The House of Fiction is a memoir published last year by Fremantle Press, and concerns that part of Susan Swingler's life which involves the departure of her father when she was four years old, leaving her mother a single parent in England in1950. Her father was Leonard Jolley, head librarian of the University of Western Australia's library for many years, and husband to iconic and well-regarded Australian novelist, Elizabeth Jolley.

The book is an exploration of the mores of the time as much as anything else. The story ultimately reveals that Elizabeth (previously Monica) and Leonard were lovers while Leonard and Susan's mother Joyce were still together. The then Monica was a friend to both of them, nursed Leonard when he was in hospital with a flare-up of Rheumatoid Arthritis, and the two women (Leonard's wife and his secret lover) subsequently had Leonard's first daughters only five weeks apart. While this was hurtful and unorthodox behaviour, it was probably not a very uncommon story post World War II when the world had been torn apart, lost any innocence that it still might have had, and where the urge to procreate would have been strong.

The other aspect of the story was the secrecy that surrounded this, and continued to do so over many years - Joyce did not know that the woman Leonard had left her for was their friend Monica (Elizabeth Jolley) or that Monica's baby was fathered by Leonard, and Susan did not learn of this until she was 21. This was compounded by a further web of fabrications which left the people involved confused as to what could be believed, and angry at the deception.

This, while interesting, was not the most gripping part of the story for me. What impressed me was the exploration of the psychological aspects - how secrecy, half-truths, fictions disguised as reality, might shape the world of the developing child, causing a potential fracture in their understanding of reality and the ability to trust. In Susan's case there had been enough stability and love from her mother and maternal grandmother during these formative years to protect her from the potential damage of this behaviour. Even so, she alludes to these difficulties, and the hurt remained it seems, up to, and throughout, the writing of the book. This part of the story was courageously and thoroughly explored by the author.

The other thing that impressed me was the author's commitment to appraising the situation with as much honesty as she could - and the positioning of herself within the story, underlining the fact of its subjective nature, only added to this. To my mind, Elizabeth comes out of the story reasonably well in the circumstances - people are only human and sometimes they fall in love with people who already have other commitments, act on those emotions, and people get hurt. Good things come from that too - in this case, two more children. Elizabeth did, at least, try to provide some comfort for the child left behind across the ocean. There seemed to be some generosity in her actions as well as some arguably less generous impulses.

Not for the first time, this book made me reflect on the sacrificial nature of the confessional, or semi-confessional text - that the author exposes self for the sake of the story. I think this applies to the work of Elizabeth Jolley as it does to Susan Swingler. There is, in that, an impulse to explore a truth, the various ways in which humanity is expressed for better or worse.

An advertisement about finding love...

Difficult to segue into this topic from a blog about all things writerly I know, but I'll try.

Some friends have recently started up a local face-to-face dating service (and no, this is not a euphemism for something less lovely). They are hoping to direct people to the relevant website.

The idea is to enable people to meet up either for speed dating, or to facilitate them getting to know one another on a purely friendly basis (just friends). This might even lead to slow-dating (a bit like the slow-cooking movement).

The new service is called IYQ and is currently in the process of organising social events for people to get together in Perth. You can find their website here.

How does this relate to writing? Think Romance Novels perhaps. Or the link between reading a good book, and spending time getting to know one another. These introduction services aim to facilitate relationships in a deep and meaningful way, rather than by way of commodity, a form of alienation all too prevalent in contemporary societies.

Drawing a long bow? Ah well... As my mother is want to say, it's what we do.

National Kindness Day starts 16 days of kindness

November 6 is National Kindness Day in Australia, and starts the 16 days of kindness from 6-21 November.

Why be kind? Well the most obvious answer is that kindness creates a better world for us all to enjoy.

The Australian Kindness Movement makes for a convincing case. The following quote comes from their site. (Follow the link above to learn more and here for suggestions of how to contribute to the celebration of kindness.)

"Being kind is an enjoyable experience. It makes you feel good, and useful, and alive, and it validates you as a human being. When you are kind it triggers a number of beneficial physical and psychological responses. The most obvious response is the 'feel good' sensation,which has been officially titled the "helper's high".

The person who receives a kind act experiences the 'feel good' response, too. It's a nice experience when someone smiles at you, or thanks you, or compliments you, or helps you in some way. It creates a bonding, and in that moment there is a greater sense of worth about yourself and people in general. It is a feeling akin to falling in love, and in that moment you have fallen in love - with the whole of humanity."

 

The Broken Book by Susan Johnson

When I tracked Susan Johnson down at the Australian Society of Authors Congress in Sydney a few weeks ago with her book in my hot, acquisitive little hand, and forced her to sign it for me, with a wheedling smile and a dance of the cover of her book in her sight line, she was very gracious about the whole thing, wishing me well in my own work, in the inscription. She said she hoped I liked it and that it was a book that polarised - people seemed to either love it, or hate it.

I am firmly in the love camp, and I have been trying to put my finger on precisely why. I can't quite...

What I can do is note that this is a remarkable novel, and I can't understand why it didn't win some sort of literary prize (did it? Surely it has!?). I love the fragmented nature of a story that still makes perfect sense, and the style (to say it is confessional is to do it an injustice, only because that word has become associated in literature with a kind of cultural cringe about 'women's writing' - it is, at times, deeply intimate but never cloying). Johnson's expertise in carrying off an unorthodox structure is impressive, and through her own example, she infuses the work with an understanding that the best writing is not just something utilitarian, but art. Capital A Art, I think.

The latter is central to the story, inspired, rather than firmly based, on the life of Australian writer Charmian Clift aka (in Johnson's novel) Katherine Anne Elgin 1923 -1969. Clift collaborated on three novels with her husband, the writer George Johnston (who won the Miles Franklin for My Brother Jack) and had two novels entirely of her own making published in 1960 and 1964 - Walk to the Paradise Gardens and Honour's Mimic respectively. She was a well-known (and loved) columnist and a short story writer.

The Broken Book refers to the novel that Elgin (Clift?) is working on when she dies. In some ways the slippage between the real-life Clift (if such a person - any person - could be pinned down) and the fictional character Elgin, creates a space where (what I think ) the central questions of this novel are posed: What is art? How do the actual lived experience of the writer and the work inform one another? Where or what is the line where/when a written work crosses over into the territory of art? Is writing, or any artistic endeavour, a form of neuroticism? Is it worth it? Who gets hurt along the way? It seems that in this case, the answer is often the writer herself.

What I loved about this book was not just the subject matter, which I assume would be of interest to most writers, but the book itself. I mean, not only the insights Johnson displays in this sensitive and compassionately imagined story about the relationships between husband and wife of that era, parents and their children, and the desire for some sort of transcendence through knowledge or art, but the way in which the words Johnson has chosen catches fleeting human experiences and shows them for the beautiful, complex, often painful, but ultimately joyful gifts that they are.

I can't say any more about this book, except to recommend it to my fellow writers. The three last books I have discussed in this blog have encouraged me to keep going, not because I have a hope of equalling their outstanding artistic achievements, but because it is a beautiful thing to do. And sometimes, for one or two people, a good book implants a kernel of understanding that wasn't there before. And that is really something.

It's Elemental my dear...

I've just finished reading Amanda Curtin's epic novel Elemental. When the book was launched by Janet Holmes-a-Court earlier this year, she joked that she had considered giving a box of tissues to the first ten or twelve people that bought a copy. 'Buy it,' she said. 'Read it.' Now I know why. I bought it, but it took me a while to get around to reading it. I wanted to take it away with me so that I would be able to give it the attention it needed.  And deserved.

Even the tears were well-earned. This is Amanda Curtin's second novel, the second that I have read, and I felt with this one, as with the last, that I had just finished a satisfying, beautifully prepared and nutritious meal that has left me wanting for nothing but the hope that it won't be the last.

Elemental is largely told from the point of view of Meggie Tulloch who, as a young girl at the beginning of the twentieth Century, lives as far as you can go north-east of the Scottish mainland, 'closer to Norway than to London'. The story spans several generations of Meggie's family from Scotland to Fremantle, from 1904 to the present day. It is beautifully imagined, and as real as any work of fiction can be. It is about life, the cycle of the generations, patterns of life choices that seem to be almost inherited, and courage and stoicism in the face of adversity. It's a compelling story. It is also filmic in its scale; a work that would easily lend itself to a movie deal. I wonder if anyone will snap it up. Mmn... I hope so. I can already see it in my mind's eye. Great!

Another of Pat's stories... first published in dotdotdash

Patricia Johnson has generously sent me another of her wonderful stories for the blog. It was first published in dotdotdash.

 

The Red Pagoda

by Nabu

Stain waits, ready to merge as soon as his colours are ready. Long and lean, dark and dirty, Stain exists on the fringe of space. Many would like to know how he finds the slipstream so easily every time he wants to travel. They are unaware of his skill with colours, learnt during a protracted and intense apprenticeship to his Uncle Whitsun, Master of Tints, Shades and Meaning.  In his appearance to others, Stain is an aberration, a centipede and a person no one wants to know. And that is how he likes it.

 

Crimson, topaz and emerald are the pures Stain works with; but this time he adds a drop of shale grey for tonight Stain is going to visit the Red Pagoda. Also, carefully hidden, are the other colours he plans to use.

On another plane of the galaxy on the Planet Jhazu the beautiful Yah wi waits by a gilt doorway, her skin like the cool morning mist, her hair like a waterfall, her smile as warm as Jupiter. Her eyes are large and lustrous, full of the syrupy indigo glow of her kind. Her flesh is the  clean white of the Northern Star, her hair a black that is almost blue. She is as irresistible as morning.

Jhazu is a cold planet; it is full of high spacious white houses built very close to each other and to the road. The houses are deserted in winter. The only place above ground in Jhazu that is warm in winter is the Red Pagoda. It’s fires burn larger than a stag, its washa drinks are like fireballs and the people crowd into its rich oriental rooms whenever they can. Looking out of the glass door frosted with fine icicles, Yah wi can see a farmer driving his cattle over the frozen ruts of ground. Their bodies are sheathed in thin layers of ice, but their heads and bony legs constantly break free, as the snow blows around them.

Yah wi watches but she is bored because she is not rational; she is just a collection of skin, bone, blood and feelings. She lives in a perpetual hell state, because she has no regulator, no thermostat. She is a Bonwin. As well as being known for their huge dark fringed eyes, Bonwins are also famous for having no logic and little self-control; they feel, but do not think. Their lack of control makes them easily controlled by others, giving them great value. For a brothel this is very handy, and the harsh and petulant Fajuli who run this frontier town are glad to buy the rare Bonwin whenever one comes on the market. Despite the blue sky-price, the Fajuli make their money back in six months. The Bonwin are the perfect prostitutes, male and female, because they love their work. Work sets their feelings on fire and they are pure feeling. The more they can work, the more content they are. Obviously this is a great advantage for a money-making venture such as the Red Pagoda.

Stain surrenders himself to the journey. As he slides through the night he has no idea what this visit will bring. For although the Fajuli can recognise a profit when they see one, they are small beer who cannot compete with the larger powers. Usually the Fajuli are left alone as too unimportant to be noticed, but one of them has been engaging in extracurricular activities lately. Fellanon, a loose built man with a clenched fist of a face, has been dabbling outside the recognised Fajuli area; his attempts at espionage have been noted by a rival faction. Fellanon knows a secret.

Yah wi still waits bored by the door of the Red Pagoda. Fellanon stands nearby ready to take the cash and keep order in the house. As a glorified bouncer, he thinks his secret identity is unknown. Stain slides along the slipstream, letting himself enjoy the sensation and anticipate his pleasure. It has taken him a while to get the money together for this evening but he is feeling more than just the usual  physical longing. Stain is in love and he plans to get Yah wi out of captivity tonight.

On his private planet, orbiting the fabulous Capo dicha, Lord Calophone sits at his meteorite desk, many times larger than himself; he has to perch on a cushion on a chair with extra long legs. He is the size of a fire hydrant with an ugly blue face. He is so small that he likes everything around him to be big. He likes to win; he has to dominate. Lord Calophone is a hereditary Lord of the Waspen Dynasty. He is not at the top of the Dynasty, far from it, but even the lowliest Lord of the Waspens is a power.

 Lord Calophone is angry. He thumps his desk. He bangs his drawers. He yells and threatens and commands. Lord Calophone has Bonwin blood in him – he is not all feeling, but he is more feeling than rationality. His retainers live in a never-ending state of anxiety as a result of the intensity of his emotions. And Lord Calophone is sick of it, he shouts, sick of it all. This little creep from Planet Jhazu has interfered is his plans for the Great Dynasty War with his pathetic spying game. Fellanon is on Calophone’s hit list. Not only that but the whole moiety of the Fajulis has been filching all the best Bonwins. It’s about time they were taught a lesson. YES! It’s about time they found out who was boss. He commands his NJL Squad to  prepare for a raid tonight on the Red Pagoda.

Fellanon has been spying for a long time. Although his home is on Jhazu, he works as a special agent for the Aphistas, and for the head of Aphista Intelligence, Morgana.  The Aphistas are known far and wide as the chief scientists of the galaxy, ingenious industrial designers, and makers of the best clocks. One of their top researchers has discovered that if you heat up and treat dark matter with a disburser catalyser system, you create a substance (temporarily christened dM2) with many valuable uses. One of these is making unbreakable china; another is curing the space disease known as pagilomorphia, a disease which affects the outer nervous system.

But the most exciting and secret use so far discovered is that dM2 acts as a sort of antidote to the feeling state.  dM2 given in small doses activates dormant coldly rational, logical brain cells, but only temporarily. There is a sea of endless possibilities for the use of dM2 on Bonwins. While this information is confidential at the moment, the fear of it being leaked to a competing planet is huge. dM2 could make all the difference to the Aphistas, making them a real power in their own right, rather than a most valuable partner.

 

Fellanon is not really a very good spy. He just always seems to be in the right place at the right time. A brothel seems to be a good place to pick up information; he can always get the Bonwins to talk about their clients with a little extra money and a few threats.  The Aphistas know all about Fellanon’s work at the brothel and his access to plenty of Bonwins. They want Bonwins to test their dM2 on and Fellanon has them. Fellanon must deliver half a dozen Bonwins to Morgana by the night of the Double Full Moon or face losing his extra and very profitable employment with the Aphistas.  He has been reluctant to part with his Bonwin stock, even for a short time, but with the advent of dM2 he has begun to feel in danger and decides that at the waning of the Double Full Moon tonight or tomorrow morning he will make the trip to Aphista with his chosen six, including Yah wi.

Night of the Double Full Moon

Evening customers are drinking, dancing and engaging in other pleasurable activities with beautiful Bonwin girls and boys at the Red Pagoda. Yah wi’s indigo eyes are sparkling bright. Fellanon and his barbarian Fajuli mates are celebrating the Double Full Moon with everyone else while keeping a weather eye open for any trouble. In the club part of the facilities the band Meteor Assault is belting out their trademark sonic reggae beat, but out the back is a windless waste of snow and debris as the NJL Squad materialise in quiet menace amongst the bins. All in snowstorm khaki, equipped with bulletproof uniforms and the latest Waspen Destruction Dimms, they look like Sumo Ninjas with poor muscle control. They can’t help bumping into each other as their vision is obscured by their huge helmets (chosen by Lord Calophone) so heavy that they cause the squad to lurch widely in an off balance salsa.

‘snicker snack, snicker snack’ chant the Sumo Ninjas.

Their Lord is with them, geared up for action in his own specially made child sized uniform and walking on stilts at the head of their formation. NJL Squad spreads out to guard each exit waiting for the word to move. Above them their spaceship circles, transmitting pictures onto Lord Calophone’s Hand Hooley. Everything is ready to go.

Stain has arrived on Jhazu. His colours are well hidden, sewn into the back of his jacket. Fellanon knows him and has already had him up against the wall warning him to behave himself and checking him for weapons. When Fellanon lets him go, Stain heads straight for Yah wi; she hums to herself thinking that now she will be able to switch on her feelings to the full. Yah wi’s love for Stain is half-hearted until he arrives. She has no way to love him or even think of him at all when he is absent; her whole being turns off and her abstract ideas are almost non-existent. But now that he is here she is wholly violently without any question in love, all atremble for his touch. Taking him to her room, Yah wi smiles widely and holds him close so that Stain is transported to the place he longs for, the place where he is loved. He explains his plan; they will wait for the long night of the Double Full Moon to end when everyone will be exhausted and ready to sleep. When the guards check the rooms Stain will hide with the help of his colours until it is quiet and then they will walk to the place of the slipstream and glide away. Not knowing if it is not a particularly clever plan or even likely to work (though of course, she is used to this) Yah wi agrees and they are united as Stain mixes the colours they need.

On Aphista, pressure has come down hard Morgana. Higher powers cannot wait any longer and she understands the position and the urgency. Deciding that rather than trust the idiot Fellanon to deliver her Bonwins, she will go to pick them up herself. Donning her black mantis uniform, Morgana gathers her team.

‘move along,’ yells Fellanon, shaking his whip and making the Bonwins cower. When they are afraid they are very afraid, at the whim of every other being. Three boys and two girls are crowded into the corner of one of the inner chambers. As the most valuable of the girl Bonwins, Yah wi has been sent for, but she has disappeared from her room. The guards do not realise the use of the colours to conceal; they have no idea of Stain’s powers with them. When they report her absence to Fellanon, he leaves the guards in charge and runs up to check Yah wi’s room for clues. He must leave for Aphista immediately to get there on time; Aphistas get ugly when they have been stood up. Their access to chemical knowledge makes them dangerous and he dares not welsh out on their deal.

 

As Fellanon stands in the room looking at the long mirror and narwhal comb, Stain and Yah wi crouch invisibly against the wall hardly breathing; they hear the sound of guns. Looking from the bedroom window, Fellanon sees Morgana and her fellow Aphistas draw their light weaponry and fire toward the brothel. He thinks the Red Pagoda is being attacked, that the Aphistas have decided not to pay, but to steal. They must have decided not to wait for him to bring the Bonwins to them but to come and get them themselves. He leans out the window, keeping in the shadows and catches sight of the Waspens in their ridiculous uniforms. What are the Waspens doing here? Why are they firing their Destruction Dimms? Destruction Dimms against the Aphistas. What fools they are. Aphistas command the most sophisticated weapons in the galaxy. All around the snow glitters with green blood pouring from Waspen bodies. Lord Calophone is screaming ‘snicker-snack! snicker-snack!’ to his bloodless soldiers, his Hand Hooley dangling loose from his jacket with its gold braid and splendid red stars. From the upstairs window Fellanon cannot work out what has happened. He bolts down the stairs into the main salon. Customers are flat on the floor and the Fajuli are with them.

Confusion. Fear. Smoke. Suddenly the noise stops. Silence drips through the air. Lord Calophone has been lifted to his spaceship and already the Waspens are darting through the sky, disappearing, deserting their stricken soldiers. Morgana, in her mantis black and with a monster weapon over her shoulder strides through the door, scattering bullets into the wall.

‘what kind of a double cross is this?’ she yells at Fellanon.

The five Bonwins, terrified by the noise and the fighting come running into the room, straight into the arms of the Aphistas. Fellanon falters.

‘no double cross,’ he says, ‘ I don’t know who they are.’

‘liar’ Morgana snarls. She gives some orders to her men. They disappear with the Bonwins out into the snow; the Aphista have come prepared with dM2 to administer to the Bonwins and it is not long before they have all been dosed. Morgana sits on a stool and orders a double washa, staring at Fellanon from her kohl-rimmed bloodshot eyes.

Upstairs Stain and Yah wi are holding tightly to each other. During the fighting outside they slip out the window and keeping to the shadows, disappear into the snow-laden trees. Yah wi is shining with joy, she has never been so happy. Stain rescues his colours and begins to mix crimson, topaz and emerald and a little shale grey and soon they are on their way, wrapped in each other’s arms. Soon, very soon, he will tell Yah wi what has happened and the significance of his name.

Behind them the Bonwins have had their doses and have begun to change into hard cold logical selfish beings. Their brains have begun to work and their long dormant capacity for communicating telepathically kicks in. Without a word being spoken for their captors to hear, they come to a united decision. Turning on the Aphistas they grab them by the ankles and begin to slowly beat them into the ground. It doesn’t take long for more green blood to colour the snow.

The Bonwins turn and walk slowly toward the Red Pagoda.

 

Just back from the Australian Society of Authors Congress in Sydney

It is the fiftieth anniversary of the Australian Society of Authors, the peak body for Australian authors, and they celebrated by holding a Congress (a kind of participatory conference) in Sydney from October 17 to 19. It was an opportunity to meet fellow writers, to share ideas, and to listen to some sage advice from a wide range of authors across a range of genres.

I am going to be lazy and direct you to Natasha Lester's blog "While the Kids are Sleeping" because Natasha has provided a great overview of the Congress here. I caught up with Natasha at the Congress and am hoping to entice her to come and speak at the Book Length Project Group sometime soon.

Loved Sydney. Good to be back home with my head buzzing with ideas and my notebook half full (like the proverbial glass!)

Audio Book Response - Hannah Kent, Burial Rites

I've just finished listening to the audio version of Hannah Kent's Burial Rites read by Morven Christie . This is the one put out by Bolinda Audio.

I've never listened to an audio book before, so this is a new experience for me. As luck would have it, this was a perfect one to start with. Great book by Hannah Kent, and an excellent rendition of the text by reader, Morven Christie. It felt as if she had fallen in love with the book, and with good reason. The story, based on the life and death of the last woman to be executed in Iceland (in 1829) for her involvement in the murder of two men, was meticulously researched over years, and the depth of the research is felt throughout as something that is as close to an actual experience as a story can provide. It is through this that the deepest questions of human existence are addressed, leaving the indelible trace that tells you that a book has just changed the way you think and feel about the story of your own life.

Hannah Kent spent time in Iceland as she wrote, and developed relationships with the country and the people there. It all comes through, the sense that the author has incorporated the setting and the culture into her body and translated it into a language that strangers to this beautiful country can understand. The audio added to the experience because it enabled me to hear the Icelandic words, which added to the atmosphere. I felt I had travelled there - to that country, time, and season.

With regard to the book, the telling, I can only say that I came to the conclusion that the story had chosen this writer, and that it had chosen well. There are books you can't put down. This one, I couldn't turn off. I listened in my car, in the driveway, overlooking the lake, on the way to the shops (but a close call with another vehicle cured me of that), and finally in front of the computer. I was in awe of Hannah Kent's writing - what a career she has ahead of her if she can even come close to the beauty and skill of this fine work.

What Do You Love?

I’ve been reading a book called Story written by Robert McKee. Subtitled: Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting, while the focus of the advice might be on the film script, the gems contained within its covers are applicable to all writers of fiction. On the cover its claim “Winner, International Moving Image Book Award” is supported by the high quality of the information and writing between the covers.

This morning, on page 99, I read the passage with the sub-heading “The Gift of Endurance” in which he talks about screenwriting as being for long-distance runners rather than sprinters. The same is true for the novel, or any work of length. McKee wrote this:

“Whatever your source of inspiration, beware of this: Long before you finish, the love of self will rot and die, the love of ideas sicken and perish. You’ll become so tired and bored with writing about yourself or your ideas, that you may not finish the race.

So, in addition, ask: What’s my favourite genre? Then write in the genre you love. For although the passion for and idea or experience may wither, the love of the movies is forever.”

He ends the chapter with this: “Be honest in your choice of genre, for all the reasons for wanting to write, the only one that nurtures us through time is love of the work itself.”

Hear, hear!