The darndest things..

I promised myself when I began primary school visits that I wouldn’t start doing ‘kids say the darndest things’ pieces, but I can resist posting this photo from Newtown Public. It’s part of a display on China. It reminds me of the type of stuff I used to do at school, coming, a cropper on the final hurdle. 

The school was great. I read out the first page of the next book and we discussed what things we should change, including the name of the bully. They quickly spotted that the name I had in there, ‘Harry’ didn’t sound like a bully and besides it was already taken by Mr Potter. They came up with Barry, Bruce, Boris and the splendid Igor. They thought I should change the name of the hero from Jonty Townsend to Jonah Townsend because there was a boy of that name in the school. I actually really like that because I wanted him to be an Islander or Maori. 

I got some fun title suggestions like:

• The Perfect Principal
  
• Perfect Tomatoes
  
• Perfect Behaviour
  
• The Tomato Principal
  
• Attention in Class
  

I quite like the last two. Do we have a winner there?

Stimulating new terminology

With the Government’s one off payments to low income earners hitting bank accounts this week, spending up big is the new black (and hopefully not the new red). The global financial crisis has given rise to a whole new bank of terminology we can incorporate into our every day lives to make everything we do sound better.

I’m no longer going shopping:

I’m implementing an economic stimulus package;

I’m investing in the retail sector;

I’m preventing an economic downturn.

Other new terms include:

As a result of declining interest rates I will be reallocating funds to the mining sector.

I’m redrawing on my mortgage to buy some diamond earrings.

In view of environmental concerns I’m implementing a fundamental shift in transport spending to focus on low emission alternatives.

The BMW’s been repossessed so I’m buying a bike.

In these tough times I think it’s important to still do something for those in need overseas.

I’m spending my bonus on designer clothes made in China.

The advice I’m receiving from the finance sector is that now is the time to reinvest in the market.

I’ve got a tip for a surefire winner at Rosehill. 

I’m delivering a much needed boost to the hospitality industry.

I’m going out for coffee.

I’m packaging my hospitality stimulus program with some assistance for the farming sector.

I’ll have a slice of cake with that coffee, thank you.

My hospitality stimulus package didn’t work, further measures are required.

I’m going out for a beer.

It’s a tough climate and if a temporary deficit is required, then so be it.

I’m opening a tab on the bar with my credit card.

These stimulus measures are having the desired impact.

The vodka shots have kicked it now.

Any job’s a good job in this economic climate.

I’ve just been sick, can someone clear it up?

It’s a definite goer, but what’s it called?

I finally have it in my hot hands. Three months after the verbal yes I have a signed contract for the next kid’s book. So in the fairground that is authoring a book, I can get off the “Will it be published” rollercoaster and run with shaky legs to the “Does my text look fat in this” Hall of Mirrors. There is where I start taking distorted looks at my text and think ‘It’s all blobby in the middle’. In the next mirror I decide my head looks enormous and start worrying whether I look like that in real life. Then it’s horribly thin and finally plain ugly without being funny.

Belinda and Mark, the editors at the ABC are standing by the Hook a Duck Book Title stall, spruiking hard for me to hook the duck with No Tomato Sauce on its bottom. They really don’t want me to pick the Attack of the Zombie Students duck. I think they have secretly removed it from the name ducks bobbing on the water. No Tomato Sauce, is relevant in that my evil school principal does hide the drugs in the tomato sauce but I’m not sure. Still I am an utterly crap title chooser, maybe I should leave it to the experts.

From there I’ll be forced onto the Book Cover Wurlitzer, where I get so many options and so many ideas that I end up spinning round and round and back where I started with a strong feeling of nausea.

Still for all my whingeing it is a fairground, it’s full of delights, bright lights and thrills and at some stage in the not too distant future I’ll actually get some money for it. Cancel the Christmas austerity measures and fatten the goose!

Talking grown up to an agent

After a month of shilly-shallying I finally phoned Selwa Anthony, the literary agent I first spoke to back in July. Part of me thought I should just put aside Crash Tactic, as the new book (the one in my head) is where I really want to be at. Another part thought, why waste an almost finished novel? So I sat down on a bench in Hyde Park and called expecting to leave a message. Selwa threw me by answering. Naturally I had to explain who I was again and what the situation was with Crash Tactic. She said it wasn’t worth sending that to her, she didn’t think she could place it, but she was interested in the new book when I told her about it. She told me to send her a few chapters when I written some. ‘I don’t need much’.

I have to say I was impressed and motivated. Clearly she’s not from the ‘I loved it, but I didn’t love it enough’ school of feedback. Big Tick. Absolutely straightforward and practical about what she could and couldn’t place. She won’t definitely take on the next book, but I left the phone call thinking ‘Great, all I have to do is impress her with a few chapters’. It seems so manageable. I’m not going to dash off any old tat, I’m going to write my best stuff yet (by a long way). It’s just down to me now to produce something really impressive and that’s exactly what I want.

The Zombie Breakthrough

One of the really exciting parts of writing a book is when suddenly it all crystalises and you realise what it’s all about. Some of the problems you were grappling with, things you’re not clear on suddenly fall into place.  It comes when you’re well into the first draft, it can’t possibly happen before, the world is too ill-defined. It’s the point where the world you’ve created in your book and the characters slips from your control a bit - you become less of a God and more of an all-seeing observer. I had that moment last week with Little Green Pills, the next children’s book.

While I had the broad arc of the plot and characters set out and I was chugging along OK, I knew I was missing something. Apart from my hero students discovering what the principal was doing to the kids and trying to expose him, there was no real danger, no excitement. I was missing the gasp at the end of some chapters. Then the solution came and it was down to zombies.

Actually, it was down to Jonty, my central character. As so often happens with the breakthrough moment it’s a character that delivers it. While Jonty was trying to win over the other students who are not ‘suddenly’ perfect I found myself writing him saying ‘they’re like zombies...must learn.... Must learn’. And that was it, suddenly the rest of novel appeared clearly. 

Rather than just being perfect, the zombie children are voracious and increasingly rabid learners, surpassing their teachers and becoming a scary in the lengths they will go to in the pursuit of knowledge. This lets me have some drama, a few chases through the skills, and a life and death dramatic conclusion. Let’s face it, the idea of perfectly behaved kids may be amusing for a page or two but perfection is dramatically boring. I need excess!

I’m now thinking of a new title: Attack of the Student Zombies, which for a book aimed at 8-12 year old boys is far more fun. I did send this title to Belinda the publisher at the ABC to see what she thinks. There’s been an ominous silence since.

Feedback on the potential new title would be much appreciated.

Back on the roller coaster

After a period of quiet the roller coaster has picked up again. Crikey.com, the Australian news site had a ‘tips and rumours’ item that  stated ABC Books was being shut down. The staff had been told find other jobs and the titles were being sold off. I had known that some major changes were afoot but not that. Great, I thought, there goes the next kids book down the pan.

I raised the rumour with Belinda the publisher at ABC Kids which she promptly scotched. ‘That reminds me,’ she said, ‘I haven’t made you a formal offer for Little Green Pills’. The formal offer came through via email which I quickly accepted. So thanks Crikey for the erroneous rumour, that made me contact Belinda and remind her about the offer!

We’re looking at an initial print run of 3,000 which for a kids book isn’t bad. It’ll be released mid next year. Now I’ve formally accepted, the contract is grinding its way through ABC legal and I might actually see some money this month. Given how much of my ‘commercial’ writing is based in the (nose-diving) finance industry, that’ll be a welcome addition to the coffers.

It’s all about quality

This is the high point, the point of hope, excitement and expectation. I shall enjoy the exhilarating rush of being a published author with a potentially brilliant book ahead of him.

All I have to do now is write the book! Actually it is the fun part, the bit I enjoy most. I have to be aware of not getting too carried away with enjoying the story. I have such fun writing, I often write scenes because they are an entertaining diversion, or a moving moment. In this book, I’ve got a whole soccer match scene which I’ll have to axe but it it was fun and helped me explore the characters. It’s almost like you need to ‘observe’ the characters a bit outside the actual confines of the final book to see what they’re like.

At this point I’m pouring it out onto the keyboard without editing. At the 10,000 word mark (the whole story will be around 25000) I’m about a quarter of the way through the story so I’m going to have a big base to work with. This is fine. I always see the first draft as creating your block of marble from which you then sculpt your work of art.

Each book I write is a different experience. For this one the key word is ‘crafting’. I can’t wait to get the first draft out and then really hone it into a great kids books. I’m not settling for simply entertaining any more. I want it to be great.

Good grief I think I’m finally taking myself seriously as a writer!

In the back of my mind bubbling away quite pleasantly is the next adult book. So many incidents, memories, thoughts are popping out and I think I have a structure, but I’m not putting anything down yet. There’s no hurry. I shall gestate like an elephant.

The tribute to David

One of the benefits of being stuck at home with a chest infection is the remarkable things you get to see that otherwise you would miss. It used to be that you were lumbered with daytime TV and would have to marvel at infomercials for ab-blasters and daytime soaps. Not any more. In between episodes of Dexter and the Barchester Chronicles I happened to log onto the US to watch live as they voted for $700 billion bail out. It was strangely compelling and I still haven’t decided whether it’s proof that democracy is alive well or that lunacy runs rampant.

Soak the rich

First I got to witness a senator trying to pass an amendment that would tax people making over 1 million on property deals to pay for bail out. “The American tax payer would pay nothing!” They didn’t even bother counting the votes on that one, the nays definitely had it. However it was fun to see half of Hillary Clinton swinging her leg, looking in the opposite direction and keeping an expressionless half-face.

The significance of belated

The world waited for its financial salvation. I imagined traders glued to their screens, fingers posed over their “sell” buttons waiting for the word, yeah or nay. Home-owners across the USA hoped and against hope the news would be good for their foreclosure. The Senate majority leader, Harry Reid came to the podium with due gravitas and began a tribute to David. David works in the senate, he is part of the ‘extended senate family’ who has worked tirelessly behind the scenes with little recognition. David is an ordinary American. I thought at this stage that Reid was really labouring his point. ‘OK’ I spluttered, ‘this legislation is for ordinary Americans we get it,’ but he continued. David’s family were all mentioned by name.  ‘So on behalf of the senate I would like to offer belated....’

There were some issue with the word ‘belated. Reid hesitated. I gasped (probably because of the chest infection but I’ll lay it down to the pause). A voice to the side confirmed that it was the correct word.

‘...a belated but nevertheless heartfelt thank you for his work.’

The senate applauded, the senator resumed his seat and my jaw dropped. Here I was waiting for the big moment when the biggest crisis since 1929/1987/2001 would receive vast amounts of money and the senate was passing a motion of thanks to David. 

After that motion they moved onto the bail out package. The speeches were probably shorter than those for David as they moved with now seemly haste to voting on the bill.

It was a fascinating insight into democracy in practice, unedited by news sound bites. I’m still torn. Part of me is utterly gobsmacked that the world had to wait for David to be thanked.  How many share prices plummeted during that wait? Everyone is running around screaming about the end of the world and the senate indulges in the parliamentary equivalent of a morning tea ‘thank you.’

On the other hand, I liked the idea of David being thanked while the world waited. The crisis was no worse or no better for that thank you taking place. I hope right now that David’s children are marveling at the fact that people all over the world know their father made a great contribution to the senate. They don’t know exactly what that contribution was, Senator Reid was remarkably short on specifics. It proves that in the hallmark card of life, there’s always time for gratitude, no matter how big or how significant the fires burning around you are.

On the third hand it could have been a delaying tactic while few recalcitrant senators were duffed up in the toilets to change their vote to ‘aye’ Hillary Clinton’s half body was conspicuously absent during the thank you, so anything is possible. 

A telling time at the NAB

It’s confirmed. The NAB really is determined to entertain the world with its word choices. I’m thrilled to have my account with them. For those outside Australia the NAB used to be called the National Australia Bank until some brilliant marketing guru decided they would be known as the Nab, not the N.A.B., but the world meaning to take or steal. Somehow they’ve got away with it, apart from a brief joke on The Gruen Transfer nobody has fallen around laughing infront of their signage.

It’s easy to pass up one strange word choice but in visiting the Nab to pay a cheque in yesterday I encountered their new queueing system. At the bottom of the non-working escalator in branch on the corner of Pitt and Hunter Street is a computer screen offering a range of transactions. I had to take this choice photo below.

I want to meet the Nab wordsmith - a genius who is clearly relishing taking the piss. How else could you come up with the most appropriate term for paying in / cashing a cheque as a ‘telling transaction’? OK technically, if we plunge back to 18 century usage teller comes from someone who tells (ie counts out) money, but did they not think that perhaps the word had a more common meaning in the 21st century?

Perhaps they did know and it was all about enhanced customer service. Perhaps when I paid my cheque in the teller would nod knowingly and say ,’that’s telling, you obviously don’t come to the bank often, this cheque’s a month old.’ Even better I hoped that he might examine my signature and tell my fortune from my handwriting. It wasn’t to be. The only thing telling about my transaction was that the teller’s cardswipe wasn’t working.

As you decide on your transaction at this bank and wait to be called, you can make yourself an espresso coffee for free. That in itself was pretty telling - the nab presumed I’d have time to drink a coffee before being called. Perhaps it’s all part of an astonishing level of honesty from the bank named Steal.

A desk of one's own

In a modern city-based life, a whole ‘room of her own’ is a lot to ask for so I’ve settled for a desk of my own: renting space in an office for the first time. After years of working at home I’ve finally conceded that spending $150 a week to work somewhere else with other people is actually worth it. There’s something about the presence of other people that makes we work harder - even if it is an office of earnest young men who are passionate about ‘Brand’. 

There’s less time to meander through dubious website, shuffle paper, do the washing up and by and large avoid doing actual work. In the one week I’ve been in this space I’ve managed to finish the plot outline and first chapter of Little Green Pills, not to mention a powerpoint presentation on the Product Disclosure Statement as Marketing Document, an ad for a range of nasal sprays, concepts for yet another investment fund and headlines for a new savings account - rivetting.

In the meantime: reality overload

I have to admit to watching a vast amount of reality shows. Not your Big Brother or your various Idols but the vast array of US programs mainly to be found on the Bravo channel. Any creative profession can be turned into a competition: clothes design, interior design, cooking, hairdressing. Perhaps we could have a writing reality show. Every week a group of writers produces a short story to suit a given audience or topic, each getting eliminated each week until finally one wins a book contract and a panel spot at a Melbourne Writers Festival. If watching hair being cut can be fascinating, surely so can writing. 

The hair-dressing show, Shear Genius is particularly entertaining. It does have some strange rules:

1) Any celebrity hairdresser doing a guest appearance has to have a strange European accent. The only exceptions being one of the judges, John Vo, whose smile is so permanently broad, half his face must be shoved into a bulldog clip round the back of his head.

2) The host is not allowed to move. There’s no doubt Jacqueline Smith of Charlies Angel’s fame looks amazing for her age, but what is wrong with her legs? You never see her move. She’s either sitting down or standing up but never moving.It was only in the final episode of Season Two that she took her faltering first step.

Tabatha

Spinning off from this program is one of the contestants from the first season, an Australian hairdresser called Tabatha. She told it like it was in no uncertain terms and her loathing of one of the other contestants was absolute. Even in the ‘reunion’ episode the vitriol against him continued unabated. No wonder the viewers voted her their favourite. She’s now doing  her own show, Tabatha, a Gordon Ramsay type show, touring round hairdressing salons, swearing a lot and giving them a makeover: pulling hair out of the sink plughole as she screws her face up and abuses the owner.  It seems the biggest problems in these salons is husbands giving up their jobs a dry stone wallers and taking ‘the opportunity’ to work with their wives as salon managers.

Tabatha is sharp, funny and direct, in a way that is a total shock to her American victims - she alone makes the obvious make-over formula worth viewing. However last week as she tore through a New Jersey salon, she was upstaged by an unfortunate looking hairstylist who screamed ‘she’s an animal’ so furiously that the rose and thorn tattoo across her neck almost flew off and ignited on her quivering cigarette.

It's a no!

I heard back from the editor who was going to give me feedback on Crash Tactic. Basically the feedback was ‘write something else’. Apparently the characterisation is thin and the plot far fetched - (as opposed to those deeply layered characters wandering through sensible plots in all the other comedy action adventures). 

Reading her email I got that old familiar stinging sensation in the ears - the one you used to get at school after your homework got marked and the teacher didn’t like it. That’s the one thing about writing - you’re continually getting your homework marked: reliving those feelings and trying to make sure that no-one is looks over your shoulder at all the red ink on the page. Still it was useful feedback which a few deep breaths later I appreciated.

This doesn’t mean the book isn’t publishable or another publisher won’t want it. The editor at Hachette did want to. I guess I should call the agent and persue that angle. I don’t know, maybe I’ve moved on already.

It’s coming!

The one thing the email did make me do was write, It was strangely inspiring so I’ve made a good start on Little Green Pills, the next kids book. The next adult one is also coming. I’m thinking about it at 2 am which means the proverbial pen will be hitting the paper soon. It’s like some large messy creature emerging from the depth - bits and pieces float up here and there heralding that the rest of its sporadic body is about to pop up. It’s an exciting stage to know that the writing is on its way.

In the meantime: The Unauthorised Version

Burn your prayer books, I’m reading a book that makes me want to read The Bible! The Unauthorised Version: truth and fiction in the Bible by Robin Lane Fox is as dry a historical work as I can stomach but is fascinating nevertheless. To say that it explores what is and isn’t true in the Bible is an understatement of its depth and complexity. Fox examines the historical evidence of who wrote what, what works their writing was based on and if there is any other historical evidence to back it up. What’s great about the book is that it isn’t an anti-religion polemic, it simply explores where the Bible came from, who its authors were and what were their sources. Fox delights in developing the character of people who probably wrote various books in the old testament, peeling back layer upon layer of the sources in an attempt to discover what the early Hebrews might have actually believed: texts based on earlier texts based on stories. He is like an archeologist digging down through the layers of the words. His exploration of the prophets and the conundrum of success are a delight. Is a prophet successful if he predicts disaster and it happens or does his success lie in preventing it from happening? Fox draws interesting parallels with global warming advocates. Of course there’s an awful lot of revisionism from the writers writing about the prophets long after their demise trying to prove them right. Interestingly the New Testament is just as challenging in terms of the characters and the true identity of the writers. 

What Fox does obliterate, without ever having to say it, is the ridiculous notion of it all being true. It’s so utterly contradictory that it becomes hard to accept that anyone who believes it all absolutely has actually read it. 

The ex got in touch - they’re throwing my stuff out!

It’s always a bit awkward when you hear from an EX, as I did last week. Hachette wrote to me. French Letters (B format) is soon to be out of print. Hachette are disposing of the remaining 140 copies. I can buy them at $2.30. It’s sad but better than what happened to Beauty of Truth which got pulped without anyone “realising” and without me having an opportunity to buy. Ironically Hachette only found out about the pulping when some stores tried to reorder, couldn’t and so contacted me to find out why. 

I feel OK about this but I am a little puzzled. My understanding of my last royalty statements suggests there were far more than 140 unsold copies of French Letters lying around the warehouse. I’ve asked politely for an explanation because it sounds like I sold more than I thought. That can’t possibly be right.

Hopefully it will shed some light on what the figures on a royalty statement actually mean. I can never work them out. All I ever seem to glean from them is that stock has been returned without stock being sent out to the extend that they have more returns than they printed in the first place.

Kids say the darnedest things

Children’s Book Week spilled over into this week as I crammed school visits in and skirted very close to several book parades where the children dress up as characters from books. For 90% of the kids this means a Disney Princess or Spiderman, but with any luck one school may have ended up with a Captain Wetbeard or Zed, the boy with a third arm.

Tintin and the ill-read teacher

Most schools are great but every now and again you come across one that just seems bemused by the whole idea of authors and books. At one school this week, the younger kids really struggled to think of a fairy story that we could twist together. Even when I pointed to the girl dressed as a Disney Princess for the book parade I still got blank faces. It may have been to do with the kindy teacher who was so scary she even cowed me into silence. Going by her reaction, not sitting on your bottom is an offence akin to slapping a teacher. 

Perhaps the kids’ lack of imagination may have had something to do with her. She got the kids to say what costumes they were in with the delightful words ‘and who are you meant to be?’ One boy had really made an effort, he had eschewed the bought superhero costume and actually chosen a book character. ‘Tintin’ he answered. She simply shook her head, said ‘don’t know that one’ and moved on before I could shout ‘I do’.  I made a comment in my talk about how good his costume was, but I wish now I’d made a bigger deal of it. I remembered those times when I had my efforts dismissed so quickly at school. It would have been good to know that someone appreciated them, even if the teacher didn’t.

Fortunately there are plenty of moments that make up for ones like that.  There was the boy who kept asking Harry Potter questions regardlesss of the context.

Bruno: Who can think of a well known fairy story?

Boy: Harry Potter

Bruno: What would you do if you had a third arm?

Boy: Harry Potter

Bruno: Does anyone have any questions?

Boy: How many Harry Potter books are there?

Eventually the teacher had to explain that I hadn’t written those books (IF ONLY!). 

At another school a girl asked a question to which there is no satisfactory answer: 

‘How do you make your books small?”

A model student

After talking about Lab Rats, I always ask the boys what they would do if they woke up as a girl (and vice versa). In the fun schools the boys come up with ideas other than ‘kill myself’. This week, some would try make up, many would check out the girls toilets and in Menai one brilliant boy would become a contestant on America’s Next Top Model. Loves it!

Shock Triumph at Children’s Book Week Awards

It’s the Children’s Book Council of Australia children’s book week.  At 63 years the event is, apparently, the longest running children’s festival in Australia. I think we can safely expand that to ‘in the Southern Hemisphere’ until NZ or Argentina complains. Each year the week kicks off with a lunch at the South Steyne, a ship permanently moored at Darling Harbour with a dubious line in sausage-based catering.

It’s a chance for local primary school children to meet authors, decorate their tables and, more importantly, get out of school for a few hours. I was seated with a fun bunch of boys from Shore Prep School. I always seem to get the private boys schools - must be that refined charm I exude. At the lunch they also announce the winner of the various Children’s Book Council Awards. 

Was this my chance to finally win an award? 

The chances were slim. I wasn’t aware if had even been nominated, but that could have just been ABC Books being slack. In the end, like an Australian male swimmer at the Olympics I did a PB  and came my closest yet to winning a Children’s Book award. My table took out the coveted third prize in the table decoration competition. I’d like to think I played a vital role in this near win, but sadly my main contribution was knocking a glass of coke over and soaking half the table along with the paper hat the boys had made for me. In my defence the boat slopes horribly at the edges so it’s like eating on the side of a steep hill.

Authors v Illustrators - it’s war!

Book awards and decorated tables aside, the real competition at this lunch is between illustrators and and word-based authors such as myself. It can be humiliating for non-drawers. Last year just before Sydney Writers Festival I was asked to participate in children’s events. It was obvious that I was a ring in after someone else dropped out but organisers rubbed it in by telling me they normally ‘preferred’ authors who were illustrators because they were more entertaining. Thanks!

Today there was an illustrator at my table, Mathew, a nice guy who took an early lead in the ‘coolest guest at the table’ competition because he could do drawings for the boys and show a T shirt he’d designed. However at the right moment I wheeled out the big gun:

‘I need a photo for blog, everyone gather round.’ 

Then I pulled out my new 3G Iphone and waited for the chorus of delight. Going in for the kill, I let them take photos with it. Just when the illustrator was recovering from that blow I delivered the knockout:

‘Why don’t you all email it to yourselves?’

More coos of joy as they all punched in their email addresses into the Iphone and mailed the picture off to themselves. 

‘You must be really rich,’ said one boy.

‘No, I’m just on a good plan.’

Victory secured.

This was a rare triumph for my species. Normally at this event it’s illustrators all the way. Part of the proceedings is a chance for the kids to go around and collect autographs. Of course those damn illustrators whip out a felt pen and draw something fantastic. The drawing process has the added benefit of taking time which then creates a queue, making them look extremely popular and drawing more children to them.

When I looked at the autograph books as they came to me, I felt like slapping the authors that had just done their scribbled name. Cowardice under fire. I did my best to compete to the bitter end, chatting to each child, asking their name and writing a unique sentence for each one. This did extend my queue quite nicely and brought a smile to some kids faces too, but still it was not nearly as cool as a drawing. 

700% increase in sales

There’s also a bookshop at the event. This year’s crowd seemed far more receptive to my books than last year. At the 2007 gig only one copy of my books was sold: the teacher on my table obviously felt sorry for me and ducked out to buy Lab Rats. This year I’m pleased to report that unprompted by sad puppy dog looks from me, 7 copies of my books were sold - an exponential increase which could be the start of ‘sleeper hit’ status.