Miss Cackle has moved

Hi all,

This is just a note to say that misscacklemisscackle.blogspot.com has moved to the new and snazzy website, www.kategordon.com.au. Please change your links and enjoy!

Hope you like it.

Kate

 Just for Lindsay, who wanted me to post my favourite books by my favourite authors (Thanks muchly, Lindsay. It was super fun trying to decide!)

30. Jill Murphy- The Worst Witch

29. JD Salinger- The Catcher in the Rye

28. Harper Lee- TKAMB

27. Helen Fielding - Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason

26. Margo Lanagan - Black Juice

25. John Green - Paper Towns

24. Sonya Hartnett - Butterfly

23. James Moloney - A Bridge to Wiseman's Cove

22. Penni Russon - Little Bird

21. Kate Thompson - The New Policeman

20. William Corlett - The Steps Up the Chimney

19. Agatha Christie - Ten Little Indians

18. Nick Hornby - High Fidelity

17. Nick Earls - After January

16. Joanna Trollope - The Rector's Wife

15. Thomas Hardy - The Mayor of Casterbridge

14. Cathy Cassidy - Ginger Snaps

13. Sarah Dessen - Along for the Ride

12. Anne Rice - The Vampire Lestat

11. Ally Carter - Gallagher Girls (all)

10. Barry Lyga - The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Gothgirl

9. Maureen McCarthy - Queen Kat, Carmel and St Jude Get a Life

8. Melina Marchetta - Saving Francesca

7. Margaret Clark - Hold My Hand or Else

6. Scott Westerfeld - Pretties/Uglies/Specials

5. Lewis Carroll - Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There

4. Terry Pratchett - The Colour of Magic

3. Tamora Pierce - Wild Magic

2. Mem Fox - Where is the Green Sheep?

1. Ann M Martin - Oh, everything. Apart from BSC, I loved PS, Longer Letter Later with Paula Danzinger, and I have "borrowed" the title of this for the series I am just beginning!

In which I pick 30 writers who changed MY world ...

As a response to this article: http://www.bestcollegesonline.com/blog/2010/06/28/25-writers-who-changed-the-world/ I decided to post a list of the writers who made the most impact on me, as a writer and as a reader (except I couldn't stop at 25, so I have done thirty!).

30. Jill Murphy

29. JD Salinger

28. Harper Lee

27. Helen Fielding

26. Margo Lanagan

25. John Green

24. Sonya Hartnett

23. James Moloney

22. Penni Russon

21. Kate Thompson

20. William Corlett

19. Agatha Christie

18. Nick Hornby

17. Nick Earls

16. Joanna Trollope

15. Thomas Hardy

14. Cathy Cassidy

13. Sarah Dessen

12. Anne Rice

11. Ally Carter

10. Barry Lyga

9. Maureen McCarthy

8. Melina Marchetta

7. Margaret Clark

6. Scott Westerfeld

5. Lewis Carroll

4. Terry Pratchett

3. Tamora Pierce

2. Mem Fox

1. Ann M Martin

At the moment, I am finally realising my dream of starting an MG series in the vein of The Babysitters Club. I know it will never live up to this legendary series of books, but I am having the most fun doing it. She is a superstar and the day she followed me on Twitter was one of the proudest of my life!

Now, over to you! Do you have a list of writers, or even just one writer, who has had a huge impact on you, as a writer or a reader? I know there's zillions I have left off. I could have made three lists! I'd love to hear your favourites!

In which my lovely local paper does an article on me ...

Hopefully you will be able to read this. My gorgeous local paper, The Advocate, did a big article on me. I am awed, humbled and gobsmacked. I hope you like it!

Isn't it lovely? Am so lucky!

In which I redraft ...

I know it's a common thing for a writer to hear: "It's just not quite ready yet", and I know that, in a lot of ways, it's a good thing to hear, because it means the person telling you that thinks that a) It's not horrible, and b) It has the potential to be ready.

But it still stings. A little bit. At first. Even if they say it really nicely.

But then, usually (in my case at least), you go home and you read the MS again and you think "Jeepers creepers! What was I even thinking? ZOMG. Fail!" and you become insanely, intensely grateful to the person who told you it wasn't ready because a) They were, really, being nicer than they needed to be and b) You now have the opportunity (and, hopefully, if the person gave you a tidbit of editorial advice, the tools), to make it ready. Or, even better, to make it awesome.

This exact thing happened to me about a week ago. And, at first, I was gutted. I rang the Husband Bear and I told him I was quitting writing and I was going to go back to being a librarian because I was crap and was never going to be successful. I may have said all of this in a whiney voice. While crying. In the middle of the Melbourne CBD.

Thankfully, I have the sort of Husband Bear who knows when I am being ridiculous (most of the time), and tells me so. He basically told me to harden the frak up, grow some balls and just get on with redrafting it. So I did (get on with it, not grow some ... oh, I'm just going to leave that one right there).

Now, a week later, my MS is 8,000 words longer - which gives the characters much more room to move. My villain is more three-dimensional and less stereotyped. My twist is an actual twist instead of being telegraphed right from the very beginning. My romance is more realistic. Now, I am in the process of making my Grandma less stiff and conservative and horrid (or, at least, give her a reason for being so and the opportunity for redemption). Once I have done that, well, I will just go back to the beginning and start reading again. 

Because I want this MS to be ready. I want it to be wonderful. And because I want to have balls. I don't want to be the sort of writer who gives up at the first hurdle. I want to prove to people that I can do the hard yards. Wish me luck?

In which I muse upon writers and the Internets

This is the first time I have done a slightly ranty-style thing. It is not meant to cause offense to anyone, least of all Cate Kennedy. I think she's super-awesome.

But, see ...

There's bit a bit of a kerfuffle about Cate Kennedy and her comments, in Overland and in the Sydney Morning Herald on the topic of writers and the Internets. Apparently, Miss Kennedy thinks that the Internets are killing our culture (like big, webby zombies, perhaps?). She thinks that they are "toxic" (toxic zombies!). She thinks that fiction is born of "quiet, slow reflection."

Maybe this is the case for Cate but, as I am writing this, 62% of people on the Internets (or, more specifically, the SMH website), disagree with her.

I'm one of the people who disagree. And it's not that I'm a technohead. I'm really not. I love my books. I can't read off a screen. I like Twitter because it's short and snappy and I don't have to spend much time on it. I was, this morning, a little bit bewildered when my Husband Bear told me he'd been up until 2am "reading". It wasn't the fact that he was up late that I found hard to grasp, or the fact that he was reading. In fact, when he told me that, I asked him if he was reading HP Lovecraft (which we had been reading together last night), and I felt all chuffed and proud that my lovely Husband Bear had been burning the midnight oil reading such classic (non-literary but very VERY awesome) stuff. It made me feel like we were a bohemian couple, possibly in a garret (don't ask me why).

But it turns out that the Husband Bear was not reading Lovecraft until 2am. He was instead "reading the Internets."

"It just keeps getting bigger," he said. "I'm never going to read it all."

I think he was joking.

But back to Cate.

I am not going to get stuck into her, as many bloggers have. I'm actually full of admiration for Cate, both as a writer and for having the guts to come out and make comments like these. It's important to take a stand for what you believe in, and she obviously believes this anti-inty (my new phrase!), stuff very strongly.

It's just that, while the whole peace, solitude and quiet writing serenity stuff may work for Cate, it doesn't work for everyone. 

I was watching The First Tuesday Book Club last night, and was intrigued by a comment Lionel Shriver made about Jane Austen. I'm paraphrasing here (badly), but she basically said, "Nothing happens. Maybe in the time it was written people had the time to read such slow-moving books but I just thought, yeah right, you're going to have another party?".

Her comment didn't strike me because I felt empathy. In fact, I think Austen is brilliant. It was just a good example of how reading - and writing - has changed (for some people).

I love being on Twitter while I'm writing. I love communicating with other writers. I live in a regional area, so Twitter is a brilliant writing community for me. I love the stress - and comic - relief it provides, when I am stuck or despondent. I love my "tweeps".

I wonder where Cate Kennedy writes? I imagine her writing in some secluded spot - possibly a garret! - with no noise or distraction. Me? I write on my couch, with Mephistopheles Danger Gordon yowling at me to be fed, my husband interrupting every five minutes to talk to me, show me something he's just discovered, play me a song on the guitar (which I love!). I sometimes write while he's watching TV (we have no spare room in our house, and no doors!), or listening to music, or cooking. For me, there is no quiet, solitary space. Writing doesn't even feel solitary to me. It feels communal and noisy, because I do it amongst the bustle of my life.

 

And, for me, a blog post can be just as valuable as a great book. I love Penni Russon's blog, Persnickety Snark, Gabrielle Wang, Sandy Fussell, Simmone Howell, Katrina Germein and so many others. They all give such good blog - rich, warm, witty, constructive. I get as much from reading their writing online as I do reading books.

I am on Twitter and Facebook (though I keep swearing to leave the latter). I use an RSS reader and I have two email accounts.

And yet, I still write 2,000 words a day (I would write more if I didn't work full-time).

I still read at least two books a week.

And I'm not Cate Kennedy. I'm not anywhere near her sphere of literary greatness. I'm just me - a luddite book reader who happens to think the Internets are pretty darn awesome.

Isn't it lucky this new-fangled modern world caters for all of us?

In which I have a book cover ...

This is the cover of my book.

In the words of the great Chandler Bing, could I BE any more excited?

Just wanted to say a big thank you to Jodie and Eva and their astonishingly talented designy people at Allen and Unwin for somehow distilling the essence of my story into such a beautiful picture. 

It's really special and I am so honoured and humbled that someone put in all that time to create something so beautiful for something I wrote.

I hope you will all read about Daisy (and Paulina), and love them as much as I have come to.

In which I have a story that WILL NOT GO AWAY!

  

Am not meant to be writing at the moment.

Am not meant to be writing at the moment.

Am not meant to be writing at the moment.

Am not meant to be writing at the moment.

This was my mantra all weekend. I pictured myself as Bart Simpson, writing this in chalk along the blackboard of my mind (I don't look very good yellow, by the way).

See, the thing is, I am, technically, "between projects". One round of edits in; another forthcoming; my "in-between-projects" project completed ...

Husband Bear said I should take a break. "Don't start anything new," he said. "You will be very busy again soon."

So I, Sensible Wife Bunny, said, "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll take a break. I'll just ... like ... read lots?"

And so, on Friday night, I said to myself: No Writing This Weekend. Instead, I planned to do lots of gymming, friend-meeting, cat-hugging, reading and maybe watch W, which I have been meaning to watch for yonkers.

It started off pretty well. Saturday morning I got up early as usualy but instead of writing I finished reading Timecatcher by Marie Louise Fitzpatrick (which was kind of made of awesome). Then I went to yolates. 

Then I had a couple of hours to kill before meeting some friends.

This is the bit where I must make a confession.

I kind of, sort of, maybe almost a little bit took my laptop out with me. Maybe.

Okay, so I did. And I was there, in the coffee shop, with a peppermint tea in front of me and two hours to kill and ... a story came.

It just popped into my mind! Unbidden! Honest!

Actually, if I am being TOTALLY honest, it was not a whole story but, rather, a character. 

Her name is Clementine. She is sixteen, in her first year of college, and has enrolled in a philosophy class with an unconventional teacher who instructs the class that, for the whole term, they will spend their time writing whatever comes into their heads. At first, Clementine feels nervous and uncomfortable about this seemingly pointless exercise and the complete freedom it affords her, when she is used to being "taught things" that "fill up her mind".

Clementine is slightly overweight, but wears it well. It's her friends that worry about her weight, not her. They are pretty and popular and they want Clementine to fit in. 

Clem isn't sure she wants to fit in.

Clem has a perfect big sister, Sophie, and a brother who never comes out of his room. Her friends are moving on to a cooler crowd. She has a big crush on Hayden Justice, college rock star. Her friends are trying to set her up with Brett, who is friends with their new boyfriends. And then there is Frederick Paul, who is in her philosophy class, too. He's a geek who wears old-fashioned clothes and hangs out by himself at lunch time. He isn't exciting, like Hayden. So why can't Clem stop thinking about him?

So, this is my story. Can you see why I couldn't get it out of my head? Do you blame me, now, for being very weak yesterday and writing 5,000 words?

I just couldn't stop.

Don't tell the Husband Bear!

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever got a book-worm?

In which ... stuff starts happening!

I started writing - for real, not just scribbles in the many journals my Dad bought me - about two and a half years ago. I was enrolled in my Masters in Arts (Literary Studies). I enrolled thinking it would be a good string to my bow in my career as a librarian. I was working in a high school at the time and so I enrolled in a unit in YA literature. The unit was half theory/half creative, and for the creative portion we had to write a short story.

It was during this unit that I discovered I cannot write short stories.

I got to the end of my word limit and realised that my "short story" was actually a first chapter - the first chapter of my first ever novel, Dear Sally Sunshine.

 Dear Sally Sunshine was a simple story about a secret admirer who helps a geeky girl find her strength. It was also the book that found me my amazing agent, and helped me to meet the incredible team at Allen and Unwin, who will, in October, publish my first published novel, Three Things About Daisy Blue.

Three Things About Daisy Blue has been the making of me as a writer. It taught me to plan, draft, edit, redraft, work to deadlines, take and use editorial guidance. It also taught me this is what I want to do, as a job, for the rest of my life.

Three Things About Daisy Blue doesn't come out until October (and between now and then I will experience another big milestone - my first European trip), but the process has begun. In the past week I have seen a book jacket, found myself on the "Title Page" book database we use for work, and heard from a friend that Three Things About Daisy Blue was presented as a "highlight" at the Allen and Unwin conference. 

It feels real now.

I know I will get a chance to thank people inside the book jacket (squee), but I really want to do it right now as well.

So! My eternal gratitude goes to my precious Mum, Dad and brother Richard, and my fabulous in-laws; to Nan, Jodie and Eva; to my best friend, Julia, and her best man, Ryan; to my North Westie mates; to my colleagues at the bookynook; to my Nan and Auntie Shirley; to my Twitter peeps who are a constant support; to Mephistopheles Danger Gordon, my writing companion; to beloved Dolly; to my Mures Writing Group; and finally, to the Husband Bear, without whom my heart would not beat. 

Enough of that! Getting teary!

I know this week is just another step on an amazing journey, but it feels momentous and I feel so privileged.

In which I started an exciting new project!

Ever since I read Joel and Cat Set the Story Straight, by the stupendous Nick Earls and the super-wonderful Rebecca Sparrow, I have been dying to cowrite a novel. And when I say "cowrite", I actually had very specific ideas about HOW I wanted to cowrite. I didn't want to cowrite in the same way Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl cowrote Beautiful Creatures (much as I loved that book). I wanted, specifically, to cowrite a book the way Nick and Rebecca did; the way Penni Russon and Kate Constable did with the glorious Dear Swoosie. 

I wanted my own character. I wanted the other author to have their own character. I wanted a chapter each, back to back. I wanted a conversation between characters and authors. Oh! And I thought it might be fun if the book was (what I call), straight fantasy (i.e. wizards, dragons, faeries, but no vampires, werewolves or fallen angels).

Too much to ask?

Apparently not!

After all this time (Joel and Cat came out a whole thirteen years ago), I have finally received my wish. I have begun work on a tandem cowritten novel with a very, very, very super-dooper awesome fantasy writer. 

AND I AM HAVING SUCH FUN!

It's like how going to see a fabulous movie is SO much better when you see it with a great friend. Youcan talk about it afterwards; dissect it; reminisce about favourite scenes and spunkiest actors. 

I love my character - a princess forced into hiding amongst a troop of footsoldiers. I love my cowriter's (SQUEE! Love saying that) character just as much. I love that she (my cowriter) insists on manticores, and I am really keen for a bit of human-faery lovin'. I think it is going to an awesome book and great fun ta boot.

Writing is such a solitary profession. It is also (in my opinion) the most fun profession OF ALL TIME, but it is SO much more fun when you do it with a friend!

In which I was sick ...

Last week, I got sick. Not serious sick. Not hospital-level sick. Just plain old, garden-variety, lying on the couch, hating the world and everything in it (excepte Mephistopheles Danger Gordon, The Husband Bear and salt and vinegar rice crackers) sick.

All would have been lost in a very depressing, puddly, all-losty kind of way, EXCEPT ...

it turns out when I get sick I become ...

SUPER WRITER PERSON!!!

Seriously! Before this bout of sickness I was convinced all I was capable of doing while sick was lie on the couch and yell at inanimate objects, but it appears I ALSO have a hitherto undiscovered talent for writing lots in between my yelling! 15,000 words worth of lots! WOOT!

Whether it's good lots, I am not entirely sure. I will spend the weekend finding out, but at the moment I am on a big 15,000 word long cloud of writerly bliss.

So, the moral of this story: sick = bad and 15,000 words is not enough to make it un-bad and repeat-worthy, but it does numb the pain slightly.

Stuff ...

Stuff I want to read this week:

Never Bite a Boy On A First Date - by Tamara Summers

Vulture of Sommerset - by Stephen M Giles

The Heights - by Brian James (even though it gets the songs from that 90's TV show stuck in my head every time I see it on the shelf)

Find Your Tribe - by Rebecca Sparrow

Stuff I want to watch this week:

The rest of Tess of the D'Urbervilles, even though I know it will make me cry BUCKETS - Oh, you have torn my life all to pieces... ... sob!

At least one episode of Being Human

Last night's Dr Who again because it was made of Tardis-sized awesome!

Stuff I want to listen to this week:

Century Child - Nightwish

Verisakeet - Moonsorrow

These Days of Grays - Sonata Arctica

Victory Songs - Ensiferum

(and yes, for anyone who was wondering, I am on a Finnish metal bender ...)

Stuff I want to buy this week:

NOTHING! I AM SAVING FOR EUROPE, DAMMIT!

Stuff I want to write this week:

A poem for my little brother

More of my Finnish metal music WIP (hence the obsession, but also because it's fantabulous, gosh-darnit!)

Stuff I want to wear this week:

Jeggings. Ignore the haters! They are COMFY!

Stuff I want to do this week:

Go walking in the Cascade Gardents with my Husband Bear (and maybe run down a hill this time)

Tell my Mum she's beautiful

Tell my Dad he's the best man that ever there was

Ignore the people who make me sad and stabby

Hug the ones who make me smile and who never give up on me

In which I freak out about sending a manuscript off ...

It is official. I have scared, paranoid, ridiculous writer troll disease.

The symptoms of this disease are as follows: 

1. Eating too many corn chips (although, this may just be a symptom of being me)
2. Yelling at the cat for trying to sit on my knee
3. Yelling at the Husband Bear for ... umm ... waking up
4. Reading my MS SIXTEEN TIMES
5. Deliberating over the width of bowsprits (this is a pointy thing on a boat)
6. Adding in an additional character, then removing her, then adding her again
7. Giving one of my protagonists two middle names. Just because.
8. Reading my previous (prequel) MS three times
9. Going to the gym a lot
10. Falling off the treadmill at the gym after having AN EPIPHANY
11. Yelling at the Husband Bear for playing his guitar
12. Yelling at the cat for wanting to be fed
13. Saying over and over to anyone who will listen "You don't understand. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"
14. Thinking that tangerine chocolate and salt and vinegar chips is a good breakfast idea
15. Obsessively wearing tights
16. Going to the hairdresser because she doesn't mind listening to me talk about shapeshifting Tasmanian tigers for an hour
17. Not stopping typing when I cut my finger. Even when there is blood in my keyboard

I know. It sounds like I am an evil, nasty horrid little troll, doesn't it (Husband Bear and Mephy the Psychotic Black Cat nod vigorously), but I am reliably informed all above symptoms are normal when a usually pretty sweet-natured person is working on a manuscript. And my symptoms have neutralised now the MS has winged its way off. But still, it would be nice to have some reassurance I am not, in fact, a troll. Reassurance? Please?

In which I make a list of things I love about being a writer ...

1. I can work in my jammies
2. I can work with my cat on my knee (or feet, or, sometimes, computer - not so good)
3. I can work while eating corn chips (don't tell Husband Bear. He hates it when I eat over my keyboard)
4. I can MAKE STUFF HAPPEN. In life, this isn't very common. Most of the time, I don't feel like I have much control or power over things. When I'm writing, I am God
5. I can actually create people. And worlds. And creatures. This is fun.
6. I can, every half an hour or so, stand up and do a spontaneous happy dance around me lounge room. They have forbidden me from doing this in my other job.
7. I can work while listening to Badly Drawn Boy, Neutral Milk Hotel, The Shins, Ensiferum, Opeth, Sonata Arctica, Paddy Casey, Martha Wainwright, The Smiths. At work we only have Naff Classical, Naff World Music, Naff Lounge or Naff Elevator Music.
8. I get to meet all sorts of awesome writer people in the Twitterverse and Blogosphere. They are lovely, funny, supportive and kind
9. Ditto for the real world. And, an added bonus, in the real world we can have hot chips together. Woot!
10. I make my librarian parents proud!
11. I get to read books, watch movies, go on road trips "for research"
12. I get to be violent, aggressive, sexy, smart, cool, funny, scary - all the things I am not (usually), in the real world
13. I never have to grow up. In the real world I'm getting old and wrinkly. In my books, I'm always a kid
14. I get to have a writer group. For a shy, kind of anti-social person ... I get to have a GROUP!!!
15. I can blame all of my moods on being a writer. Not that the Husband Bear often accepts this as an excuse. But still.
16. Sometimes, I get out of housework.
17. Sometimes, when I am being lazy and just sitting there doing nothing, I can pretend I am thinking of ideas
18. I'm crap at making stuff but, soon, I will be able to hold something I made in my hands. And it won't look as bad as the spatula I made in Grade 8 Technology class!
19. I now don't feel so bad about not being able to cook, whistle, sew, ride a bike, wink, drive, do the splits, sing or knit (or any one of the other zillions of things I can't do). Cos I can WRITE!
20. All the nasty people? They get made into baddies in my books. And, sometimes, reach sticky ends (yesssss). The power. The power.
21. My High School English teacher is proud of me.
22. My Husband Bear can imagine a life, when I am "The Next JK Rowling" when he can retire and make beer and breed goats and be a pirate
23. In October, I will be in a series with Penni Russon, Scot Gardner and Kate Constable (and several other incredible peeps). This makes me happy beyond belief.
24. This morning, I travelled all around Tasmania without leaving my lounge room. Tonight, I'm going to Finland!
25. It's all I can do. It's all I want to do. It makes my heart sing

In which I tried to write a picture book ...

I have made a lovely new friend who writes and illustrates amazing, wondrous picture books. 

Meeting this super dooper person has given me the confidence to try something I have always been too afraid to (in a manner that I have never been when I have met super dooper surgeons, triathletes or raw foodists).

I have begun my first ever picture book.

Many people think writing picture books is easy. Heck, if the Prime Minister can whip one up in his spare time, why can't the bust lawyer/doctor/five year old produce at least ten a day? Easy money!

Not so!

The REASON I have been too frightened to ever embark on this project before is that a) I have verbal and writerly diaorrhea, which is sometimes too ... ummm ... diaorrhea-y (erk), for even novel-length works. 60,000 words? Pssshhh! Easy Peasy.

500 (as it turns out): REALLY FLIPPING HARD!!!

So I have a great story, about alley cats in early Tasmania. It is poignant, funny, quirky and sweet.

It is also - at this stage - far too long.

My lovely new friend is being very understanding and patient with me as my story gets slowly shorter, and as I start to get the concept that the old "show don't tell" maxim does not apply in picture books. The pictures tell. The words are only PART of the story.

I hope I can make this thing work (after all, if K Rudd can - with a generous dollop of help from a very talented sidekick writer), while "running" the country, surely I can do it ... eventually ... with a LOT of hard sloggy work.

Whatever the case, I'm going to stick at it. I refuse to fail at something KR has achieved. Except maybe speaking Mandarin ... and grinning all the time and ...

In which I guest blog myself ...

Am being naughty today. The following is a blog post for the soon-to-be-launched Ferret blog for my work. So, in this context, it might sound a bit "old-person-trying-to-be-hip" , but still. I think it's a good list! Let me know what you think!

The best YA books you're NOT reading ...

Seriously? Give Bella and Edward a break. Their sparkles are getting tired. In the meantime, ditch the rubbish on the telly this weekend. (Cougar Town? Whatever), and curl up with one of these hidden treasures.


1.      If I Stay, by Gayle Forman
Oh, this book will make you cry. But in a good way. It’s a New York Times bestseller (almost not-heard-of with books for younger peeps). See what the fuss is about.

2.      Going Bovine, by Libba Bray
Libba Bray wrote the super-successful Gemma Doyle books, but you wouldn‘t even realise this book is by the same person. A weird and wonderful road trip / psychedelic dream novel about a kid dying of Mad Cow disease. I kid you not. It’s brilliant.

3.      Little Bird, by Penni Russon
Penni is a local girl, but that’s not the only reason you should read this amazing book. It’s super funny, sassy, smart and very, very powerful. Go the Tassie girls done good!

4.      After January
Read this in Winter, then beg your olds to take you to Surfers. It’s a perfect summer barbie novel that has a heart warm enough to see you through winter (plus, it’s one of the funniest books EVER).

5.      Looking for Alaska.
Okay, shut up, Nerdfighters. I know you’ve read this one, but for those of you who haven’t, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU WAITING FOR, PEOPLE? There is a reason this book has a cult following. It is because it is PHENOMENAL!!!

6.      Very LeFreak, by Rachel Cohn (she co-wrote Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist)
Who wouldn’t love a girl with a name like that? Perfect for making your very own playlist for every emotion, ala Very, or for when you’re taking a hard-earned Twitter break. This is the book for all of you seriously considering supergluing your Iphone to your hand. Come on, I know you’re out there.

7.      A Brief History of Montmaray
A change of pace: Read this one for when you’re dreaming of your very own romance on your very own island. This book is so full of loveliness it might just burst in a big cloud of confetti.

8.      Surf Ache, by Gerry Bobsien
Read this on a plane to drizzly Melbourne. Wished I could hijack the plane and take it all the way to Newcastle so I could be a surfer girl like Ella (and meet a boy like Snowy … and have a crazy little sister like Creaky).

9.      Jessica’s Guide to Dating on the Dark Side
No sparkles here, darlings. But there is some super snazzy vampy love, plus a heroine with a truckload more guts in her little finger than Bella has in her whole bloodsuckingly boring body, and a bona fide Romanian vampire. Woot!

10.  Will Grayson, Will Grayson
Okay, so it’s not out yet (you need to wait ‘til May), but I wanted to put something on here that you can look forward to. And you will trust me when I say that this book is PHENOMENAL. It’s a bit naughty, a whole lot funny, and has introduced me to both the best book character EVER in Tiny Cooper, and the best band I’d never heard of in Neutral Milk Hotel. Buy one of their CDs before the book comes out to be ahead of the game. Pure indie genius. Them play the CD while you read this book – so good I read the last page and then turned back to the first and read it all over again.

In which I found a lovely writing group!

I am chuffed, gleeful, awe-struck and glad to have a found a really lovely writing group (code name: Writerama), in my new hometown. 

We meet once a week at a local (and super-dooper lovely, yummy-food-making-kind-to-writers-wondrous), fish and chip super-shop. We bring our netbooks, our resources, ourselves and our brains. 

We don't order much, drink too much of their free bottled water, plug into their electricity and chat, laugh, people-watch and - here is the best thing - WRITE. We don't critique each others' writing, unless we feel a specific urge, but we do discuss it. 

We don't have formal topics or structure. We do spend a lot of time staring out the windows at the River Derwent. It is the best writey thing that has ever happened to me. I want to spend my whole life at writing group (with brief breaks to go and see the Husband Bear and Mephy, and watch Arrested Development).

All newbie writers, best tip I can give you: Get a writing group like mine. S'all, y'all.

In which Mephy is home and safe ...

And on many drugs that are making him the least psychotic and most cuddly he has EVER BEEN. Here is Mephy cuddling Bear:

(Nb Bear is wearing pants. It just doesn't quite look like it in this shot).

This level of cuddliness DOES NOT USUALLY HAPPEN.

Bear and I are very grateful to all involved in Meph's safe return to the little mint green house. It is not a home without him.

In which Mephy goes to hospital ...

I told myself I was not going to become a "cat blogger". It's not that I don't like cat blogs. I love cat blogs, but I figured there were enough cat blogs out there already without me adding my fantastic fur-child to the mix.

So I didn't tell you about how he is the best flopper that ever there was, and is a total glutton for tummy tickles.

I didn't tell you how he plays me and Husband Bear off against each other, pretending he has not been fed when he HAS.

I didn't tell you about how he is terrified of one partcular blue umbrella.

I didn't tell you how, every morning, when I am writing, he sits behind me on the back of the couch and curls his tail around me neck.

I kept Mephy the Psychotic Black Cat as my secret friend and muse.

But, today, Mephy the Psychotic Black Cat went to hospital. The Husband Bear and I don't know why yet. I won't go into the specifics, but my lovely Mephy has been sad and in pain. And I, for some reason, finally found the need to tell the blogosphere about it. Maybe I hoped a cat blogger out there would understand.

I'm sure Mephy will be okay. He is every bit as stubborn as he is psychotic. But I am worried about him in hospital.

Fingers and paws crossed.

In which I am beaten by Technology ...

 This morning was not a happy morning at the little mint-green house.

Not only was it a Tuesday (which carries neither the shared-with-the-world despair of a Monday nor the “Whee, it’s all downhill from herrrreeee …” of Wednesday to Friday), but there was also a fourth creature in our house. A fourth creature that was not a husband Bear, a Mephy the Crazy Black Cat or a Miss Cackle.

The fourth creature was a monster, and his name was TECHNOLOGY.

He came in many guises this morning. The first was a cute, tiny little netbook, formerly known as Windy. He crashed Windy into the dust, just when I finally got my head around the whole “track changes” part of the structural edit.

Then, while I galumphed around the house for a good six or seven minutes, ate a chocolate biscuit and tried to make smoke come out of my nostrils, Technology left the soul of poor, dead Windy and possessed Big Papa PC.

I was not aware of this. I was too busy galumphing.

So I, naively, tried to resuscitate my document of Big Papa PC. Big Papa PC DID NOT WANT TO RESUSCITATE MY DOCUMENT. This confused me, as usually, Big Papa PC is solid and reliable.

I finally worked out why BPP did not want to cooperate. He had been invaded by Technology. I called on Exorcist (AKA the artist formerly known as Husband), Bear to perform his ju-ju on BPP.

Luckily, Exorcist Bear is magic. He fixed BPP in no time, while I breathed into a bag and read Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters.

Exorcist Bear thwarted Technology (or so I thought), and I happily went back to my edits. La la “Approve”, “Deny”! Take that, “Scene That Wasn’t Working”!

But THEN, just as I was getting lulled into a false sense of security (and JUST before I pressed Save), Technology came back from the dead, in the form of … THE AURORA MAN, who knocked on the door, said “We’re just gunna have to turn your power off for an hour or so”, and did just that.

Before I saved.

“But I didn’t save my edits!” I protested.

Aurora Man / Technology just looked at me, shrugged and said: “Sorry, ma’am, but it’s a pretty bad problem. Your life could have been in danger”.

A likely story. I saw the evil glint in his eye as he walked over to the power pole.

It was another win to Technology; another loss for Poor Miss Cackle.

But tomorrow is another day, and I have learned many skills from the events of today.

Namely, the power of a little button called SAVE.

I'll get you next time, Technologeeee!!!