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!!!

In which I go a bit ranty ...

I am not Generation Y.


I don’t have a Blackberry, or an IPhone. I have never worn high waisted jeans, leggings without anything on top, harem pants, or anything Lady Gaga might wear.


I don’t really know who Lady Gaga is. Or what her purpose is. I’m not sure she has one.


I Tweet, but I only Tweet with people who Write.


I hate Facebook.


I don’t get Myspace.


My friends are people I would die for, not people I would “poke”.


My life goal is not to be famous and buy a yacht. It is to be loved and buy some goats.


I don’t own bling.


I don’t have a dangly thing on my phone.


I don’t understand “random”. I laugh out loud all the time, but I have never ROFLMAO-ed (evidence – my “arse” is, currently, where it has always been, and not on the floor).


I get that, if people don’t put an emoticon in an email, it doesn’t necessarily mean they hate me.


Just because I do something does not mean I need to join a Facebook group about it.


I still want to be friends with people who don’t social network.


Doesn’t mean I hate people who do. Some of my best friends are as Y as they come.


But me?


I’m Gen Possum Magic; Gen Hairy Maclary; Gen There’s A Hippopotamus on My Roof Eating Cake; Gen Miffy; Gen Ramona; Gen Spot; Gen Butterfly’s Ball; Gen Anthony Browne; Gen Graeme Base; Gen Emily Rodda; even Gen Babysitter’s Club.


Later, I was Gen Garth Nix; Gen James Moloney; Gen Shaun Tan; Gen Tamora Pierce; Gen Isobelle Carmody; Gen Judy Blume; Gen Maureen McCarthy; Gen Melina Marchetta; Gen Terry Pratchett.


That’s the stuff I remember. That’s the stuff that lines my bookshelves in my tiny (non-McMansiony), townhouse. That’s what make me who I am. It might not be a one-letter catch-all, and it may not have functions and features and “applications” but, dammit, neither do human beings.