Currently reading

1. Poetrix submissions

2. Ada Cambridge entries (biographical writing) for shortlisting judging with my Novel 2 class

3. Student first chapters and synopses

4. Fight Club (Chuck Palahniuk) -- within a few pages of the end

5. Life of Pi (Yann Martel) -- about 1/3 way in and stalled because I can't find the book

6. Love in the time of cholera (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) -- about 1/4 way in and stalled because I can't find the book

7. The secret river (Kate Grenville) -- read this before, but am teaching it so am rereading it with my class. About 1/4 way through, currently.

8. The enchanted wood (Enid Blyton) -- it was around. I couldn't resist -- can never resist a book with Dick and Fanny as the main characters. (And of course that's far funnier in Australia than it is in the US.)

9. Emotional structure: creating the story beneath the plot: a guide for screenwriters (Peter Dunne). All right, I'm not a screenwriter and have no aspirations to be one -- I like my narrative too much -- but there are a lot of great books on how to write screenplays that have heaps of useful info for novel writers too.

And you have to love a book that has this on its opening page: ". . . you can only be a writer on the days you write. On the other days, the days you decide not to write, you will be something else. However, there is a caveat. On the days you decide to be a writer and you write, even if it's for only an hour, you get to be a writer for the other twenty-three hours, too. Pretty good, huh?"

I love it. Love the voice. Love what he's saying. I'm there. In for the long haul. Although, rather than read from beginning to end, I'll probably dip in and out, which I do with all my writing books. I'm constantly trawling through them. (And having done my tax the other day, I realised I'd spent over $700 on writing books in the last financial year. Eek! Husband is not happy. Admittedly, I did teach a new subject so was busy acquiring both textbooks and also compilations (of poetry) to draw on for my reader, especially given that Fair Trading means I'm quite restricted in how much I can use.)

What I'm looking forward to reading next:

World without end (Ken Follett). I bought myself this for my husband to give me for Christmas. I loved Pillars of the earth: so rich, so gripping, that I had to have the sequel.

The series beginning with Kushiel's dart (Jacqueline Carey), which comes to me highly recommended as fantasy that's completely different. I have perused it -- looks like it's going to be a -- er -- let's say racy read!

The Farseer Trilogy (Robin Hobb). Truth be told, I've dipped into this once before -- after I'd read the follow-up series The Liveship Traders, which I absolutely loved. I found I just didn't want to slip into first person -- and where were Althea and Brashen? -- but it was a cursory look that no doubt didn't do the series justice.

The time traveler's wife (Audrey Niffenegger), which was highly recommended by a student of mine. The concept sounds intriguing, and I've just been watching the rather funny "Lost in Austen" about a modern day girl who crosses through a time and I guess dimension (to do with the real and fictional worlds) portal into Pride and prejudice, so I'm ready for something in this vein.

I've always felt like I haven't read enough of the classics, but I've been focussing on addressing this a little over the last few years to the detriment of my genre reading. Now it's time to get back to some of the stuff that I love to read. (Though I've loved many of the classics too.)

New movies

Well, the marking isn't quite finished, but last weekend I took some much needed R&R time and went off to see a few movies.

The first was Sex and the city. I was a fan of the television series, though it wasn't must-see television for me. Translation: I really enjoyed it and would watch it whenever I was home, but didn't tape it if I were going to be out. I'm not into fashion, but I loved that Carrie was a writer, and I loved that the show was bigger than life in the same way that "Desperate Housewives" is bigger than life. And that I kind of related to these girls. In "DH" I see myself as halfway between Susan the ditzy but loveable nutcase (not that I'm implying I'm loveable!) and Lynette, the harassed housewife, struggling to balance motherhood and career.

In Sex and the city I suppose I'm a blend of Carrie (but really only from the writing viewpoint), Charlotte (whom I feel I'm most like in a lot of ways -- except when she runs and when she's so anal. No scratch that. Anal editor person speaking here!) and Miranda. I'm least of all like Samantha. Not at all like Samantha. Are we even from the same planet?

So I enjoyed watching their characters interact, the ripostes from one to another. Such clever dialogue. (Though, going back to the TV series: why Carrie threw over Aidan for Big was always beyond me!)

I enjoyed the movie very much. And the surprise for me was Charlotte. I thought she had a couple of huge moments with Big -- considering one of the reviews I'd read said she (Kristin Davis) didn't really have to do any acting! I thought she was brilliant! Fans of the TV show will love the movie, because it's stayed true to the show. I've seen other TV shows made into movies and wondered how the writers could get it so wrong. (The first Star Trek movie was an example of this -- not a bad movie in its own right, but not true to the feel of the TV show for me. It was only the later ones that captured this.)

The beauty of Sex was that I went along with my mum and two of her friends, and of the three only one had ever watched the TV show, yet they all enjoyed the movie. That, IMHO, is great writing! It's like a poem where everyone can get something on an initial reading, but that some readers will draw further and deeper meanings from. (And it's why I never minded when actors from one show appeared in another playing their characters from the first -- as long as they "worked" in their own right.)

Movies can be great food for the writer's soul, and the second movie (all right, all right, I admit, I saw it twice in two days!) was one such movie for me. Prince Caspian, which I enjoyed so much more than The lion, the witch and the wardrobe. Perhaps it helps having a character who reminds me physically of the main character of my novel. Yes, I'm always looking for him, even though I've settled on Tom Ward as the most likely candidate. But perhaps it's the grittier battles. I do love a gritty battle. The heavy thwacks of swords on metal. The grimness of stone walls. Ruins. Some beautiful coastal scenery. Horses. (Of course, horses. I'm far less fussed about lions who come along and save the day.) Men in armour.

Interesting to note how much cross-pollination was going on between Tolkien and Lewis, and one of those vagaries of being in a writing group together. I've never read the Narnia books. Probably a bit inexcusable for a fantasy writer, but then I came at Tolkien late (in my mid-twenties, and wondered about how I'd missed such a masterpiece!). The lion, the witch and the wardrobe didn't inspire me to read the book, but this one has. Though I'll probably only read that one unless I love it. If I love it I'll go back and start at the beginning and hope it's as good. That's not always the case.

I've got a book called The last legends of Earth by AA Attanasio, and it was one of the most amazing books I've ever read. If you like SF, and time travel, and disasters, and apocalyptic visions, go out and read it. Trouble was it was fifth in a series of linked books. I wouldn't usually start at number five but someone gave it to me, so then I had to go back and get number one and start from there. I hated number one. It was boring and didn't draw me in. I persisted, and it just never got better for me, and I didn't get that at all. How could that happen? So, yes, assuming all books in a series will be as good as each other can be quite fallacious. But I'm digressing. The blogosphere seems always to encourage me to do that. Friends write coherent posts, and mine ramble. But then I see this as a very different kind of writing (for me) than if I were writing, say, an article or a movie review. I'm perfectly happy to let it ramble!

But back to Prince Caspian... Highly recommended if you like battle scenes. Some violence but nothing to make you too squeamish. Others I'm looking forward to: Indiana Jones. And perhaps one or two of the new horror offerings. And Mongol, I think it's called! Seems like a few good movies coming up!

The other Boleyn girl (mild spoiler alert!)

The other day I went with a friend and my kids to see The other Boleyn girl. I always love a good period drama -- I'm a fantasy writer, after all, and a lot of times I feel fantasy is closer kin to historical fiction than it is to its bedfellow science fiction. And this film put me right there: forests, galloping horses, costumes, castles -- ah, fantasy writer's heaven. And the type of soundtrack I could write to. (But which my husband hates.)

Recently (as in some time in the last six months) the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) ran a miniseries about the Boleyns and Henry XIII, and it was interesting to see how the miniseries differed from the film. One account was it made much more of Mary's happiness in her initial marriage and reluctance to go to the king. This was touched on in the film, quite clearly, but still wasn't as big a deal. OTOH, the movie had a two-hour running time to the TV show's three and a half (or thereabouts). I remember despising her husband for his weakness, feeling much more of her desperation. I suppose he was still portrayed as weak -- his only reaction to the news seemed to be eyes brimming with tears, but his part was over so quickly that I barely noticed.

The incest issue was handled differently too. In one it happened; in the other it didn't. I won't say which is which for those who haven't seen the film. I did wonder though whether I really believed Natalie Portman the more beautiful of the two -- Scarlett Johansson has that exquisite almost ethereal beauty that I can imagine angels having. It's almost otherworldly. She was the girl with the pearl earring, after all! (I'm waiting for the film that pits Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley as sisters, as I think they look alike. And the one with David Tennant and Tom Ward as brothers!) And, of course, beauty *is* in the eye of the beholder, but even so... Anne did, however, have all the fire and temperament that Mary lacked, so that may have added to her attractiveness for some -- not that Mary was meant to be unattractive, but a point was made that Anne was the beautiful one.

My children came away wondering why Anne was, in their words, "such a bitch", so we had a good discussion about ambition and power, but this seemed almost mystifying to them. Ah, how jaded we become as adults.

Would I recommend this film? Yes, to anyone who loves a slower, beautifully shot film. For some it may be too slow, but I really enjoyed it. I just wish there were more films like it on these holidays... Just means I'll have to return to my books -- one that I'm reading is all about the kings and queens of Britain, and there are so many good stories between its covers. Plenty to inspire the fantasy writer within me!

More movies and books

We seem to have set up a two-day pattern where we go to the movies every second day, which means we should've gone today. Instead, I've been writing, which is a better excuse than just about any other I could give. Or rather I've been wrestling with a draft, more than doing a straight rewrite. Today's scenes were half rewrite, half edit.

Anyway, in the meantime we've been to see National Treasure: Book of Secrets. I'll state straight out that I'm somewhat partial to Nicholas Cage, so that was a plus already. And I like Ed Harris too (have done ever since he did one of my favourite movies: The Right Stuff). This was fast-paced, car chases, excitement plus plus. I had read a review saying it had lots of plot holes, but they were more in terms of being so over-the-top they were unlikely than that something was missing or didn't make sense. Okay, this is a film very much in keeping with what I've been reading this week: Matthew Reilly's Area 7. Yeah, yeah, I know, I said I'd finished Reilly-reading, but I saw it cheap and couldn't resist. It sat in between the other two books of his that I've read recently, so it was funny thinking forward to what would happen to those characters in the next book. A bit like reading the end of a novel before I've finished -- and I know a few people who do like to do that.

One writerly thing that Reilly does that I don't like is to withhold information through the POV character (though he is using omniscient). But he'll be in someone's head and give half the information, and we know that character now has the full story and is not sharing it. I always see this as false suspense. Cheating, really. If the viewpoint character knows, then the reader should know. It leaves me feeling manipulated as a reader. Still, the book overall is another page turner. Plenty of excitement.

But the book and the film, totally unrelated to each other, both involve the kidnapping of the president. Very similar experiences overall. Fast. Exciting. And you just have to tell yourself to go along with the plot because it will be one helluva ride.

Atonement, the other film I saw, is a far different experience, but one very close to the book, which I read last summer (or the summer before?). My mother told me the film was slow-paced and confusing. I actually found the film got going a lot more quickly than the book did, but both are sumptuously rich and, oh, so tragic! My son said, after the film, "Oh, Mum, look at all the tears on your face." Indeed, it did make me cry. Not confusing at all. But it's one that does involve frequent time-shifts, and going over the same ground from a different perspective.

Currently reading: The Monkey's Mask by Dorothy Porter, which is diametrically opposed to Reilly, in that it's a verse novel (and a crime novel at the same time). Very interesting so far. I'm enjoying it.

Also currently reading The Stars My Destination, which I know I blogged about earlier. I was quite happy to reread the first half to reacquaint myself with the story -- that's always a good sign.

Currently writing: my novel, of course. Working now on Chapter 40 -- and a change I made in Chapter 2 is now having quite an impact on character relationships. It's always good in a rewrite to change things around a little so it still feels fresh to me. I'm not sure another reader who'd read an earlier draft would notice, but because I'm so close to it, I know. (The worst part is that sometimes I'm not sure what's in what draft. Can get confusing. Anyway, back to it . . .)

Reading

I read much like I write, which is on a one-book-at-a-time basis. I can really only get my head around one plotline at a time. Perhaps it's because I'm not visual like the rest of the world. I think conceptually. I write conceptually. I read conceptually as well. No film playing in my head as I'm turning the pages, alas. (Actually, I was most surprised to find that others could do this. And that old chestnut given to nervous public speakers -- the one about picturing your audience as naked -- I didn't know whether to be amused or horrified when I realised other people actually *could* do this. There you go.)

Anyway, I was quite surprised to realise this week that I have five books on the go at once. Four novels and one nonfic book.

The nonfic book is The greatest SF movies never made, which is one of those books you can just dip in and out of. Each chapter is about a different movie that almost got made. (Though it seems to me that some of them did in the end, but perhaps became a different movie than what they would have otherwise been.)

Then I am still reading Alfred Bester's The stars, my destination. Now the fact that I haven't finished this when I was clearly reading this weeks and weeks ago might suggest I'm not interested to see what happens, but that would be wrong. I put it aside a bit unwillingly because we were getting into the heavy marking period of the semester. Suddenly, I'm inundated with student manuscripts, and something has to go. My writing suffers too, but I have been trying to at least write something every week. Better to keep the cogs oiled. Even so, I've found I've come out of my story because I haven't been writing every day. Writing really should be an everyday event, and do I ever know it. It's particularly hard when wrestling with a large plot and cast of characters, as I'm dealing with, because I forget all the intricacies, and then it becomes time consuming (but very enjoyable) to go through it all again.

Still reading Andre Dubus III's House of sand and fog, for the third time. Would have finished this already, but I want to read it with my class, bit by bit, so the nuances that I want to talk about are fresh in my mind. Oh, it really is a book to sink into and luxuriate in. The voices are just so wonderful.

Then I've just started Grace Dugan's The silver road. After all, I have to be reading a fantasy book! I'm loving the richness of the detail in this one, enjoying the characters and the slow build up of tension, and looking forward to reading more. Nice internal design -- not that this matters to me, but I have noticed it in passing.

Almost at the same time I started Ian Irvine's new YA series Runcible Jones: the gate to nowhere. Normally, I wouldn't do this, but I went out and had some time to kill and had this book in my bag. This is fast-paced and has me really turning the pages to find out what's going to happen next. As a side note, it's an interesting size: the width of a trade paperback, but much shorter. I like the size. It's nice in the hand.

So all up: one nonfic, one science fiction, one literary, two fantasy (one of which is YA). Not counting the nonfic book, two American writers, one contemporary, one not, and two contemporary Australian writers. A good mix, overall. My quandary is going to be which one to pick up next, but perhaps that will be determined by my mood at the time. Dugan's and Irvine's books are prime examples of satisfying different reading needs: the fast-paced page-turner that will give you a real ride versus the slower, more evocative work. Both great reads, but at some times I'll feel more like one kind of book, and at others another type. Doesn't mean I won't enjoy both, as I'm sure I will.

Fiction versus nonfiction

What I'm reading: entries for the Ada Cambridge award, submissions for Poetrix, The secret river by Kate Grenville

This last few weeks my writing group Western Women Writers has been shortlisting entries for the Ada Cambridge award, which is part of the Williamstown Writers' Festival. This has been particularly interesting for me because the Ada Cambridge is for biographical or autobiographical writing, which is not what I usually do. I'm a fiction writer. A speculative fiction writer most of the time. My passion is my fantasy novel/trilogy. But I write short stories as well, and have been known to dabble in poetry. Very occasionally I'll write a bit of nonfiction -- usually for a particular purpose, rather than because I have any great drive pushing me that way. I suppose I've even written a bit of autobiography, but it's not really my "thing".

What I've found interesting in reading the entries is how many people think that good autobiography is just a recitation of events, a retelling of their life, if in a somewhat abridged form. Only a few craft a story out of events, dramatise a situation so that it really comes to life with a blend of narrative and dialogue. These stories leap out from the rest and really catch your eye. And they make me think about the lines between fiction and nonfiction and how these lines are drawn on unstable ground. I remember a friend who wrote an autobiographical piece, sent it off to a literary magazine with no explanation as to what it was and was amused to find it published as a short story. Some award-winning stories I've read in prestigious competitions I think aren't stories at all, but read much more like real-life vignettes.

It must be seredipity that I'm doing this shortlisting while reading Grenville's book. I love The secret river. It's the story of William Thornhill, a convict from London who is transported to Australia for stealing some lumber. Grenville's world is so compellingly real, so beautifully detailed that I've lived the convict experience in a way I never have before. Perhaps that was part of the appeal -- because last year I did a stint teaching a subject called Text and Culture: Imagining Australia in the Diploma of Liberal Arts. I have a science background, not an arts background, so for me it was a mad (but enjoyable) scramble to stay ahead of the students. Part of what we focused on was the whole invasion versus settlement thing. So Grenville's book was always going to appeal on a thematic level, but the setting just transported me back in time. I had wondered about the type of poverty that people must have experienced, but I don't think I'd ever truly imagined the full desperation of their situations. This book made me not only do this, but feel their desperation as well. However, The secret river has been dogged by controversy because of liberties Grenville took about dates and events. In her companion book about writing the novel, she makes no bones about the book being a work of fiction. We've talked about it at work: historical fiction versus historical fiction. It's all in the emphasis.

For me, the most important thing is telling a good story. Getting your readers in and holding them there. Compelling them to sit in their comfy chair or their bed or on their floor or wherever even though their bladder is bursting and they're fading away from hunger. Grenville, to me, has told a great story. It's not a fast read -- it's rich and dense and spectacular and well worth the read. To me, as a writer, it's a resounding success -- as are those stories in the competition whose writers took the time to really think about how best to show their stories rather than just telling them.