My teacherly whinge

Well, Sherryl and I went off to Borders today to meet up with a past student, which was a lovely thing to do. We sat and talked writing for ages. And then we bookshopped, as you do if you're a writing teacher. Now, Borders have always had this 10% teacher and student discount, which we love. We throw a lot of money Borders' way. I buy most of my teaching books there. Now, before you all frown and say I should be supporting the small, independent booksellers (you're right!), the small, independent booksellers don't have the range that Borders do, don't have all the practical how-to books that are so useful for class.

Anyway, today, we found out that the teachers' discount (and presumably the students' too, though I'm not sure about that) has been discontinued. I was a bit peeved, particularly because I was buying, among other things, a $30 novel that I already own but have lent to a student (I think), and now I need it for teaching purposes. So one lucky author/publishing house/bookshop is getting twice the commission from me. And replacing another book I bought my son for Christmas, but which his sister borrowed to take camping before he'd read it, and then left behind.

Oh, well, they do have some fabulous vouchers, which are emailed out from time to time. Guess we'll be even more reliant on them from now on. But I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be throwing somewhat less money their way.

Awards night

Well, it's official, folks. Someone other than just ourselves likes our group novel. We're not just navel gazing! Last night, Western Women Writers (well, some of us at least) went along to the FAW (Fellowship of Australian Writers) Awards night to collect a commendation for our group novel -- or the first 30,000 words of it. Originally, we began the project with this award in mind -- not so much because we thought we might win, but because it would give the group a focus for the year, and a deadline. And there we were, happily beavering away, at around the 35 k mark (and nowhere near finished) when we found out that this year there was a word limit on entries, and we'd already passed it. What to do? Well, we shaped the first half of the book into -- well, the first half of the book really. That involved picking out a suitable scene to break the story out, and removing a new subplot that was just starting up at that point, and which would have proved too distracting. And writing a note to explain what was going on (ie why the story abruptly stopped).

Entering any kind of competition is always a lottery. Whether we like it or not, such things are subjective. I've seen it with stories I've been a shortlist judge for -- when a story I think is memorable and outstanding is passed over in the final prizes for something that almost didn't make the shortlist. I know from the decisions I've had to make as a judge -- the final choice between the perfectly executed story that doesn't truly engage and the engaging story that has a number of flaws. The superbly written versus the original idea. Such decisions are not always easy. But winning or placing or even receiving a commendation in a competition offers writers tremendous validation. And going along to the ceremonies is a great way of hobnobbing with the rich (oh, no, that's right -- we're writers! No rich here) and famous (or not!). Awards nights are a great place to network and even, if you're not so good at networking, to feel a part of a community of writers.

Last night was no exception for me. But here were some of the surprises of the night:

(i) Those who were listed. In one category, one of the commended writers was no less than Booker Prize winning author JM Coetzee. He wasn't there, but it was still a moment when I felt a part of not just a writing community but a community of successful writers. Of course there were plenty of other "names" who weren't there, but Coetzee was the biggest, and as I've enjoyed Waiting for the barbarians, I was pleased to feel we were almost rubbing shoulders. (Not in any true writerly sense, obviously. I should be so lucky! Okay, I'll stop gushing now. And name-dropping.)

Another name who wasn't there was Garry Disher, but he did, at least, send a lovely thank you letter, acknowledging the FAW's support over the years. I haven't met Garry Disher. He doesn't know me at all. I have seen him speak at the Melbourne Writer's Festival, where he seemed a nervous speaker (something I can relate to), but he also spoke from the heart. I came away thinking him gracious and honourable and thoughtful and ... Oh, that's right, I promised I would stop gushing. We use his Writing fiction with our first year classes (it's their one set text) and now with our online students, and every time I see something of his I'm glad he's a writer we can support this way. It's a great beginners book, BTW.

(ii) The number of people who will travel from interstate just to get a certificate! This always amazes me. Truly. I suppose it is an acknowledgment of the validation thing I mentioned earlier, but I'm not sure I'd be prepared to do it. If I were a winner, yes. But just for a certificate! Don't get me wrong -- I admire these people greatly. And maybe they're not all subject to the same financial constraints that I am. Anyway, they did add greatly to the night as a whole, and what was particularly lovely was to see a whole writers group come down from Sydney to support two of their writers. Today, they were hitting the bookshops, so I imagine they'll be enjoying their holiday immensely!

(iii) The people we know. So, the winners in our category (writing group anthology) were called The Cartridge Family, which I thought a brilliant name -- brought The Partridge Family (and I always respond well to the writing-group-as-family concept) into the world of writing via ink cartridges. Anyway, turned out one of them was a former client -- someone who's book I'd edited a few years back. The funny thing was that in the last few weeks, I was thinking about her and wondering what had become of her book! If and when it's published, I'd really like to get a copy.

The Williamstown Writers Group, like us, were also commended. Now, they're in our neighbouring suburb, so I know a couple of members, so it was great to see them there. Especially because I've had dealings with one, very recently, through a writing-related venture but this was the first time we'd met both as writers. Another member I'd been in a writing group with years ago, and I know her through her professional life as well. It's a small world, but it's at these types of places that we make the connections.

(iv) The names of unknowns we know. These are the kids. A talented few who seem to win competitions all over the place, and I know some of their names through shortlisting the Imagination Creation literary competition each year. Margaret Campbell, who runs Imagination Creation, and is my mother Rita in our group novel (in other words is part of Western Women) couldn't make the awards last night, but I knew she'd be as pleased as anything to see some of "her" writers up there. They become hers in the same way that the poets published in Poetrix become ours. Those writers might not know we "own" them -- it's just a kinship we feel with them, a pride when we see them doing well, even though their success is completely independent of any (small) influence we may exert. Perhaps I'm just rambling. Humour me.

(v) The judges. Ah, well, as it turns out the judge of our section was someone I know -- luckily such competitions are judged anonymously. He did not know it was our work; we did not know he was judging. It's always tricky, because sometimes such things can seem not quite kosher to outsiders -- for example, if one of Western Women Writers entered the Ada Cambridge this year (they didn't) and won. (Not that I was any more than part of a team who did the shortlisting, and have no influence beyond that on the final judging.)

In our group, we have a policy about awards -- if one of us is judging, the others can only enter something we haven't seen; they must not talk about it in front of us, and can workshop it, but not when we're in the group. That way we can ensure fairness, which above all is what we're all striving for in a competition. But, even so, there's always the fear that such an event would not quite seem fair -- that whole thing about not just doing the right thing but being seen to do the right thing as well. (And that in itself isn't necessarily fair!) I prefer not to enter if I know a friend is judging. It's easier all around.

(vi) The amount of interest there was in what we had attempted, especially by the other writing groups. Others seemed to think it was difficult, extremely brave, inventive -- all types of things. What they can't have imagined was how much fun it's been. How fantastic the plotting sessions are. How easy it is to get into character. My character is exactly like me (okay, now the members of my writing group have just keeled over in shock), and nothing like me. And I do enjoy becoming him. But now I'm back in my own novel, there's the worry that Brendan (my group novel character -- a 30 yo contemporary cartographer) might just pick up his sword, put his foot in the stirrup iron and swing up onto his warhorse. For the record, he doesn't ride. Or own a sword. But that's where my head is right now!

I just wonder if we've started something and next year the FAW might have a flood of partially completed group novels. Go, the group novels!

(vii) The shy authors. Okay, I admit: I'm one of them. I'd prefer not having to get up and collect my award. Was perfectly happy to stay in my seat while the others went up, but for some reason this is a three-muskateers thing: one for all and all for one, and all of that. One could have gone up. Or all. And the others do enjoy their moment in the sun. And why not? It's well earned. (All writers deserve it!) It's just that I personally don't enjoy it. And, like me, there were others who took their awards, head down as they walked in and out, and made no speech. Or the one who said that she wrote so that she didn't have to do that -- or something along those lines.

(viii) The great speeches. Okay, the winners had to be the Sydney author who praised Melbourne (so much so that the convenor said she should be bumped up to first place) and the boy who said that he was glad he'd entered his commended poem and got a second opinion because his teacher had read it and said that poetry obviously wasn't his strength! There's a note of caution to all teachers in that one!

Well, I seem to have rambled on a bit -- but I do see this blog more as a place where I can explore my ideas than somewhere where I put up well-structured articles. Hope you weren't too bamboozled by my being all over the place!

Immersed in editing

Writer at work -- it's a hard life!

Here's a great recipe:

Take two writers, two partially finished manuscripts, four days, a holiday house on an island, and Easter -- throw them all together and what have you got? You've got a recipe for getting lots of work done. And feeling inspired.

Four days and lots of chocolate later and a serious amount of work has been done. Last time E and I went away together I was NaNoWriMoing (and working on book 2). This time I was doing an editing pass on book 1.

Normally, when I'm editing, I work from front to end. Simple really. Start at page 1, finish on the page that says "Ends". But this time I decided on a different approach. I have eight POV characters (I think) in my novel: four in each storyline, and one in each is quite minor. This time I chose the major storyline (about two thirds of the novel) and worked through the storyline one character at a time.

First was my major protagonist, who's story this really is. Working through his scenes was always going to be a joy, because, let's face it, I love spending time with him. And I did love it. (Though enjoyed the other characters almost as much.)

Things to think about for me in this pass were to add to characterisation, and make sure character motivation is always clear. When I was at Clarion I was told that motivation was one of my great strengths, but someone had recently said they thought it was lacking in my novel. Now this may or may not be true, but when I get a comment like that I always want to take it seriously and give it due consideration. After all, I want to put the strongest book I can in front of editors and, indeed, the world. So these two things have been my key -- oh, and cutting words. Not that the book is wordy. It isn't. But it's a big, sprawling story, and so involves a lot of words to get all that action across. But long novels cost more to produce so the risk is greater, and we're all about getting our mss into as publishable shape as possible, right?

The thing about looking at individual storylines is that it gives you a really great feel for whether the individual voices are working and whether they are what they're supposed to be: individual. Staying with just one storyline allows you to make sure the voice is consistent -- so, for example, the different characters speak with differing levels of formality, they notice different sorts of things, they have their own vocabularies and favourite sayings. Oh, this is such fun.

(Similarly, in an earlier draft I colour coded all my dialogue, by character, and that was equally insightful.)

Of course the trap is that you need to do this over a fairly short period of time to pick up any plot inconsistencies, because you're now not reading in a causal sequence anymore. It's also harder to evaluate pacing as a whole, because you're not looking at the whole novel. Still a worthwhile experience. I'll have to do at least one pass this way on every multiple-person POV story I ever write. More on the weekend later.

In the zone

Is there anything as wonderful as writing in the zone. You sit down to your computer -- you may or may not feel inspired, and you stare at the blank page, bring up the novel that you've been working on, read over the last few pages, make a few changes, fix a comma, take out that apostrophe in "it's" that shouldn't be there, add a bit more setting, and then suddenly your fingers are alive and trying to keep up with that zinging going on in your brain. You're in the zone. In your character's head. The ideas are coming thick and fast, and you're struggling to keep up. You go, go, go. And keep going. An hour later there are 1500 words on the page, and you know what? They're not too damned bad. You know, though, that in the morning, when the heat has passed, you may look back on them and think they're crap. There's a high probability that this may happen. You expect it. But you know what else? You get up in the morning and look at those words and think, hey, they're not too damned bad!

Inspiration's like that. It can hit at any time. And when it hits writing is magical. At times like that you know that writing is the best thing in the whole world. That's not how you feel when a rejection comes in. Or when you realise you still haven't been paid for that award-winning story that was published twelve months ago, and that the reality is you're not going to be paid for it. Contract or not. Not unless you go and do some serious chasing.

Sometimes writing as a profession sucks! The endless waiting. The heart-dropping parcel on your doorstep. The no, thank yous -- great story, but we've recently accepted one just like it. Or the no, thank yous -- I just didn't fall in love with your story. How could they not, with a hero like yours?

But you plug away at it because you have to.

You plug away at it because you're driven.

You plug away at it because you've got no choice.

Sometimes it's the hardest profession in the world. You have a deadline, and no time. After all, you have a real job -- one that pays you money. You have to make work deadlines because they're your bread and butter. And you're not feeling inspired to write.

The gut-wrenching truth is that professional writers write whether they feel inspired or not. They sit on their chairs and sweat blood, trying to distill words from thin air. This is their alchemy. And they do it: that's the real magic of writing. They do it. Day after day after day.

Sometimes, lightning hits, frazzles the locks on their brains and unleashes their creativity. Not very often, but sometimes it does. Then they're in the zone. They take those days and they know that such days are gifts. The stories that come out of such writing are gifts.

Many newcomers to the craft are out searching for the great secret of how to write. Books tell them there are no secrets. Published writers tell them there are not secrets. No secrets, only words on the page, long hours of practise, practise, practise.

But there is one great secret. Shh, don't tell anyone, because I'm going to share it with you. The great secret is that professional writers look at the writing they've done and they can't tell whether they wrote it while in the zone or not. Those hardwon words are just as precious, just as polished, as those rarer ones that come as gifts.

It's something you need to remember when you're not feeling inspired. Something I need to remember too. Something we all do, because, really, lack of inspiration is no excuse not to write. You know it. I know it.

We just have to keep at it.

Deadlines are great. NaNoWriMo is great. Writing contracts are great.

This is your passion so take it seriously. Professionally. Back yourself in. And when those gifts arrive, celebrate them, for no doubt if you're plugging away daily, you've earnt those gifts, and they are rightfully yours.

Chaotic year

Well, there has been a long silence from my end, I know. And it hasn't been from lack of desire -- just exhaustion and eye strain (I think). Normally, the school year gets underway, and I'm on top of things, especially in the early weeks before the assignments start rolling in. But this year -- this year has been so over-the-top nuts that I don't know whether I'm coming or going or even here in the moment!

I'm trying to sort out what is different:

(i) I've increased my work load from 0.4 to 0.6, which is always going to be a big thing as it's a 50% increase in hours. But it seems like about a 200% increase... On the other hand, it's not like I haven't had a similar teaching load in the past, because I used to be 0.4 in my current job, and teaching one subject off campus as a sessional for another institution. But this still feels like more.

(ii) I'm not teaching a small online unit I've taught the last few years -- this is a good thing as it tended to sop up all my office time, so this should have cut me a lot of slack.

(iii) I'm teaching a new subject so have spent an awful lot of time putting together a new reader. You know, we do get marking and preparation time, but it doesn't come anywhere near the time we spend doing marking and preparation. I'm not complaining, because for all the extra hours I put in, I still think this is a better job with better conditions than my old science job. For a start, I don't get called in at 3 a.m. for a couple of hours, and then be needed back at 9. And then I'm not working with carcinogenic, infectious, corrosive, acidic, smelly, explosive materials. I haven't set my workplace on fire. (Yes, did that in the lab once!) And I don't have the same levels of stress -- I well remember the day the immunohaematology teacher told us that in most subjects if we got 5 out of 10 we passed, but in that subject if we got 9 out of 10 we had just killed one person. And she wasn't joking. And I also remember all the histology teachers with their missing fingers. But that's another story. Suffice to say I now resent giving up whole weekends for marking, but I do like my job.

(iv) I'm teaching a new subject so have a lot more class prep to do. It's always hard teaching something new because you have to assimilate so much more knowledge. If you want to learn about something, teach it. Seriously. So that's a big drain on my time, but on the other hand it's a great learning experience, and I'm really enjoying that class. And it's a great complement to the other two classes I'm teaching. They're all so different.

(v) I'm writing materials for an online subject that another teacher is teaching, so the challenge is for me to stay comfortably ahead of the class. That's been both harder and more rewarding than I thought, so again it's sopping up lots of time -- time I could be writing -- but I am getting something out of it all.

(vi) I've just finished judging one literary competition and started shortlisting judging for another. These have also been big drains on my time. It's always an interesting process, judging, and so much harder than I expect it to be. How does one weigh up apples against oranges? I don't know. But it's also a great experience for any writer to go through to truly understand (yes, split infinitive, I know. Shocking, isn't it?) what the other end of the process looks like.

(vii) I'm tired. Every year I seem to be sleeping fewer hours, and this year I can't remember the last time I had a weekend, or even a full day off. Doesn't mean I'm always using my time effectively, or every day is jam packed with work, but then I am trying to maintain a house and a family outside of all of this. And read. And write. It's not an easy balance, and sometimes the things that go are my online presence. So I'm sorry to all the people I owe emails to!

Part of the problem is that I had a bit of January off, and actually had it off. Didn't do any work for work, but boy am I paying for it now. Anyway, it's all good -- the midsemester break is looming, I've just written next week's test, and am starting -- just starting to think I can see that light at the end of the tunnel. Let's hope it's not just a glowworm, leading me into deep, dark places!

Group novel

On Wednesday we had another plotting session for our group novel. Gee, it's fun. What if this happened? What if that? And it's amazing to sit down and read what we've written so far. The voices are all so different -- this project has certainly energised the group.

Initially, I found it easy going -- the voice was flowing, and I was in character -- perhaps not a good thing since my character's been acting like a dickhead. And a sleaze. But a loveable one. (At least I think so. My co-writers may not find him quite so adorable.)

It is interesting at times to see how protective some of us get with our characters. Someone says something like: "Oh, your character wouldn't do that. They're not that nice." And people get their backs up. We tend to forget that we are not our characters. I suppose we each love our own, and perhaps it's hard to hear because ironically our characters are us. Even when they're not. They're still drawn from the pool of all that we are.

Anyway, then I got reimmersed in my main novel, and when I tried to work on the group novel I struggled. It didn't matter much as I was ahead of some of the others anyway. After I finished my draft (of my main novel) and commenced a final editing pass, I found that with distance I was able to slip back into this one. I'm not someone who can work on more than one major project at once. I'm too obsessive a writer -- and, do you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. I like obsession. I truly do. Total immersion in a project is one of the great joys of writing, and one of the reasons the novel is my favourite form of fiction. Sorry, Haines, you're not going to turn me into a dedicated short story writer any time soon!

Sorry day

A few years ago, a family friend of ours, a quarter-caste Aborigine, lent me her copy of the Bringing them home report. What sad, shameful reading that made. Even worse were the letters and reports that belonged to her mother. My friend is one of the Stolen Generation. I read her mother's letters with disbelief. There were letters to Mr Neville, the Chief Protector of WA, asking for permission to buy new shoes, letters asking for permission to go to the dentist to get a toothache fixed, letters asking for permission to marry (refused because her fiance was darker-skinned than she was).

Like many Australians of my generation, I had learnt nothing of massacres and stolen children. We had read about white settlement, not white invasion. When I read my friend's papers, I was shocked. By then I was aware of reserves and, to a lesser extent, invasion, but I was unaware of the level of control forced upon these people. And, on reading this, I was ashamed.

I am not a terribly political person. I am not one who is off fighting for causes. I live a quiet life. But this has touched me. And the more I have learnt -- of what assimilation really meant, of what really happened -- the more appalled I have become.

So, today, Kevin Rudd's speech deeply moved me. I am sorry too for the past injustices, and for the continuing ones. I would like to see far greater government spending on bringing education and health services up to par in remote communities. I would like to see the inequalities addressed.

I am sorry children were still being taken in my lifetime -- an atrocity I find unfathomable. I am sorry it has taken so long for us to heal the rift. I am sorry there are still people around who cannot see the need to say the word. I am sorry they cannot feel it.

I am sorry we cannot still all acknowledge what went on, and that there are people who deny the existence of a Stolen Generation, who don't care that their comments divide already divided communities. I am sorry the hurt continues, that nothing we can ever do can really erase the pain. I am sorry that we hide behind the excuse that they were only doing it to save the children, to give them a better life. If that were true, why did they only take the light-skinned children? Why? No-one has ever been able to give me a reasonable answer to that question. I don't expect I'll find anyone who really can explain it, not so it convinces me.

There is much to be sorry for, and I am sorry for it all.

People watching

Perhaps one of the most fascinating aspects of being a writer, one of the allures, is watching people and wondering about them. This to me is one of the appeals of reality television. I know many of my writer friends pooh-pooh my fascination with "Big brother", but I love the show. Can watch most reality shows with interest -- "The biggest loser" for example. What I love best is watching the social interactions between the housemates/contestants, and hearing them talk about their motivations and the things that move them. This is great stuff for writers to ponder. Some of the most powerful and moving television I've experienced has been on "Big brother". Who could forget Chrissie in season three, having overheard the cruel comments by someone working behind the scenes, and how the normally feisty, articulate woman was reduced to tears? Or in season five, David's coming out speech? Terribly moving. Terribly revealing. And brave.

Some of my friends say it's an act, that they're always aware of the cameras, but I don't believe this. Some are more aware than others (or so it seems to this observer), but it's clear that at times they all forget.

I don't watch any of these shows religiously. I just don't have time. Others I've enjoyed have been "Australian idol" and "American idol", "Race around the world", "Australian princess", one of those one-(Aussie)-bloke-eliminating-lots-of-prospective-girls shows and "Survivor" -- though I haven't seen much of this.

Two weeks ago, I interrupted my children watching "America's next top model", something that I never would have turned to on my own. A bunch of anorexic-looking spoilt princesses? Nope, not my style. But within a few minutes I was hooked. And of course most of them were not like this at all -- but the cattiness of one of the contestants! I couldn't wait for her to be voted off. Of course she lived to survive another week.

Last week was the final of the show. Finally, the bitchy one got her own, and off she went. But her comments after she'd been eliminated -- something along the lines off: "The judges got it wrong. I thought the best girl would win, but I didn't." Wow, I thought, what ego. And then she went on to say, "They mistook my confidence for aggressiveness." Really? Looked like more than confidence to me. Interesting that that's how she saw it.

Finally, we were down to the last two, and that "confidence" word was stuck in my head. I liked both finalists equally, but felt one deserved to win more than the other. The judges were torn, and ended up going the other way. They didn't chose the girl who I thought would win because they said she didn't have enough presence when she walked into the room. They showed her walking in again, and I studied her and her rival to see what the difference was. The winner looked confident. She came in smiling and met the gazes of the judges. The other girl looked shy -- she walked in with her gaze down (much like the early Princess Di), not making eye contact with the judges until she'd stopped walking, and then she gave them a dazzling smile. Her lack of "presence" seemed to me to be a lack of confidence.

There's a lesson in this for writers: a lesson about backing your own story and believing in it. The bitchy evictee shows that nothing can really wound you if you just believe in yourself and your work, and our runner-up shows that if you don't believe in yourself no-one else will either. An interesting viewing experience in the end: I'm glad I went along for the ride.

Book buying

Yesterday, S and I went off to Borders. While we both have reservations about shopping in such a big chain, especially a non-Australian one, there are some books that we can't get anywhere else. And did I ever get the most beautiful poetry anthology. Of course, most of the books I bought were for work, but I just love getting in there and browsing in the technical section. S and I have large collections of books on writing. The only person I've ever known with a bigger writing-books collection was a friend and fellow-teacher.

Our friend passed away several years ago, and her husband decided to invite her friends around for a second-hand book sale that was going to be by invitation only. Were we ever excited. And salivating at the prospect. Don't get me wrong -- we were very sorry that our friend died, but this was a good half year or more later so had gone through the grieving process. In the end, an institution she worked at offered a greater sum of money than we could've scrabbled together to buy the collection en masse and to establish it as a collection in her name. A far better legacy, truth be told, than being sold and divided among all her friends, no matter how grateful we would've been. For us, it was never about saving money -- just about perusing books that we might not otherwise have seen. Anyway, it is lovely to think she has her own collection out there.

Now, the guilty secret of yesterday -- apart from the fact that I got so carried away that I bought a book I already had, is that then I went home and placed an Amazon order. And if that weren't bad enough, then I placed a second one. Yeah, I know -- it's more postage that way, but one of the books was a second-hand book, and it was the first time I've used the used-books facility. Funny thing was my first order was processed in AUDs, but I didn't have that option for the second.

I stuffed up the used-book order the first few times, because the cheapest books that I could find were from sellers who didn't offer overseas shipping. It took me awhile to realise this. I ended up having to pay an extra $10 US, for the book, but it was still cheap. Now I just have to wait until the books arrive. Won't be too long. (I confess, I don't mind waiting, and much preferred the old days where you could select actual shipping. Though it took several months it was much much cheaper. I do think it's a bit unfair that people in the US can get free shipping, and we don't get any sort of discount. For a while, when Amazon stopped offering ships as an option, I switched to Barnes and Noble, because their shipping was so much cheaper, but then they too did away with this type of shipment, and so priced themselves out of the market for me.)

I do so love buying books -- just wish I had more money to do it with! Now all I need is an extra three bookcases. Oh, and somewhere to put them!

Where do writers get their ideas?

This does seem to be the question that gets asked more often than any other at writers' conferences and conventions, and the one that the guest writers always roll their eyes at. Ideas are around us -- they mark boundaries limited only by our imaginations.

Last weekend I was away, staying in a small country town. Now, as it happens, a friend of mine used to live in this town and told me that the people in it were rather strange. This weekend I saw evidence for myself. We decided to have fish and chips on the Friday night, and walked down to the local fish and chip shop, which had signs up to say it was under new management. On the door was a sign that said they had closed that day (and presumably forever) because of small-minded people who'd spread rumours, and then thanked those who had "given them a go". Ah, the old management, I thought. Only there was a second sign that said something like: "Watch out ya dogs, youll get your own", and it was signed by one of the "new management" people.

Right. Nice.

The next day I was going into the supermarket when I heard the following conversation:

Woman: "He says I'm a really nasty person."

Man: "You know what you should do? You should abuse him. In public. In front of everyone."

Now, normally, I wouldn't think too much about such a conversation. A wife having had an argument with her husband and confiding in her brother? A woman who's just dumped a boyfriend? (And already that's the writer at work -- speculating on what the story is, what the motivations are.) But in light of the previous day's discovery, this conversation took on more gravitas. Nice town, that. And not just in a sarcastic sense, but in the sense that this will feed my fiction. My stories are set in a fantastical setting, and there are no fish and chip shops per se, but that doesn't mean I won't use this event, change it, shape it to fit the story I'm writing. Here are some pictures of the nearby environs: a waterfall, and scenery on a bushwalk we did on a day that was too hot for walking. Lovely translucent leaves on trees. And all of that is grist for the story crucible too. Such detail can enrich our settings.




And don't forget to look for character moments -- the time your friend looked like she was sucking a lemon when you told her some good news. And why, exactly, did she look like that? Ask yourself -- constantly ask yourself about why people act the way they do. Why did your mother hang up on you the other day? Why did your girlfriend stand you up?

Some years ago I was in a class run by a reasonably well-known writer, and I happened to mention that a friend of mine lived in a front flat, and in the flat behind lived two ex-prison guards, and that these ex-guards were so worried about being recognised that they jumped in their car and drove down their driveway to collect their letters from their letterbox. They wouldn't get out of the car for this, but would lean out, and then reverse back up the driveway and go inside. The teacher said straightaway, "Oh, that's fantastic. I'm going to use that in my next novel." I was a bit miffed, because I thought it was my story, but of course you can't copyright ideas, and I had shared it with her. I don't know whether or not she used it, and I wouldn't feel right about doing this without asking whether the other person intended to use the idea, but legally she did nothing wrong. You can't copyright ideas, and in any case I could always modify it and use it in a different way if I wanted to. But of course my characters don't have cars or letterboxes either.

There's more in the annoying moments of life. Today, at work, I was trying to chase down some forms I needed, and got the ring around -- literally. First, the switchboard sent me somewhere with a press-button menu, and when I selected the most suitable option, I got the switchboard again; then they directed me somewhere else that still wasn't right, and when these new people said they'd put me through to the right department, they put me through to myself. Only I got the answering machine, of course, because I was already using the phone. Moments like that, trimmed back or expanded, can provide comic relief in an otherwise too-serious story. Think about what your story needs, and what you can use to flesh it out. Look for interesting snippets in newspapers -- quite often the Odd Spot can spark ideas, as can strange (and even mundane) article titles.

Keep notes. Use a voice recorder if you don't like to scribble. Keep a dream journal -- something I keep meaning to try except that I hardly ever remember my dreams.

One thing that many writers do is conflate disparate ideas -- it's a great way to come up with something original; after all, we've all heard the chestnut that there's no such thing as a new story. But pulling together two or three ideas and weaving something new out of them can be immensely rewarding and exciting. So don't despair that you don't have any ideas -- they're all around you. You just need to learn to look for them!

Draft over!

Last night I finally finished the 13th draft of my novel. Now all I have to do is save it as such -- I give my working copy a different name than the drafts, and each draft is preceded by its number. The minute I save this one as a draft, my working copy becomes part of the next drafting process (if there is one). Officially, I'm not redrafting my novel anymore. Time to work on new things. But I am going to do an editorial pass to look for typos and wordiness, and to look at characterisation, motivation, and to add some non-plot related thinking, because an editor who looked at a partial of this current draft suggested these things needed attention, and I want to submit copy that is as good as I can get it.

There's something immensely relieving about finishing a draft, an excitement. For me, it builds as I can see the end in sight, and I'm more and more motivated to work on the project. But there's also something sad about finishing a draft, especially a final draft, because it's a goodbye to characters. Though, of course, if you're working on a series the way I am, that's not necessarily the case. We spoke about it today in the SuperNOVA novel writers' group -- the what-next syndrome. If you're writing a series, do you go on with the next book and hope the first will be picked up, or do you start an entirely new project? I think that answer depends on whether you are driven to do something in particular, or whether or not you're a fast writer. Perhaps also in how much faith you have in your project. If you're a slow writer you'd better keep going because if you do get a three-book contract, and they want to see where you're up to, it's nice to have something to show them. Nice not to be put on the spot, having six months to write your next book, and, horror upon horrors, you haven't even started!

For me, the choice is easy. I'm not ready to leave my characters. And in any case I've already done 140,000 words of the second book. I'm driven. I want to write the sequel. When I did NaNo, this was the book I was working on. I have two separate storylines that run through both books, and I chose the more difficult to write for NaNo. Trouble is that I've just reworked the ending of the first book, and I have a feeling that a lot of what I've written in NaNo will now be redundant. Oh, well. I've done it before.

When I first sent out book 1 (3rd draft stage), it was a far different book to what it is now. It weighed in at a mere 120,000 words. A publishing house commissioned a reader's report, and one of the things they commented on was the structure: that it was too linear. Okay, I thought. I was about 100,000 words into book 2 at that stage, and had incorporated a second storyline, which at that stage was absent from book 1. To me it was always part of the story, but I thought it was too-ambitious a project for a first-time writer. These days, I hope I'd have more courage, more foresight. Anyway, I knew I could make the book less linear by dragging that storyline back into book 1 and weaving it through the book. I usually write sequentially so this doesn't present too much of a challenge, and though tricky at times the rewrite was an immensely rewarding and enriching experience. Trouble was, when I looked at book 2, one of my major characters was now dead. And I do mean major characters. Now I had 100,000 words in serious need of a rewrite. Which happened. But now, I may have done it again. I'm circumspect about such things: all writing is a learning experience. And enjoyable. I like the fact that there have been many incarnations of my book. I can't imagine ever finishing a book and feeling that it didn't need rewriting. I know some people do this -- more so those who labour over every sentence along the way -- but it's not for me. I love the rewrite.

And am I happy with my new ending? Absolutely. Every draft I've looked at it and wondered what to do with it. It felt like a good ending, left the reader with the emotion I wanted them left with -- trouble was it was a little cliched. This time, because of changes I've made throughout the book in adding a new storyline, which really only minimally affects the first book but will become successively more important as each book goes on until it is the driving force behind the plot by the end of the third book. This new element really suggested a new ending for me. Out it popped as I was editing. Persistence -- that's what helped me find it. It's a long haul writing a novel, especially a big one, and you just have to be prepared to stay the distance. Believe me, the rewards (in terms of personal satisfaction) are worth it.

I am Legend

I said the other day I would post about this movie, which is the last one I've seen -- I am so relishing the chance to go to the movies more often. Soon, I'll be back at work and time will be shorter and something will have to give. In the meantime, I'm making the most of it.

I am Legend was an interesting film experience for me because I felt that I'd seen it before. Didn't I read somewhere that it was a remake of The Omega Man with Charlton Heston? I have seen that but so long ago that I don't really remember it. I do vaguely remember him flitting out of his apartment in daylight hours and barricading himself in at night, but am more familar with his performance in Planet of the Apes, a film that was vastly superior to the original. And whatever did they do to The Time Machine in the remake? Took the guts out of it is what! But I'm getting off the track.

More recently, however, I've seen 28 Days Later, and this felt like the same movie, even though there were striking differences. Setting for a start. I suppose, the longer I dwell on the Charlton Heston movie and the more it comes into focus -- even if still blurred -- the more I can see that it does bear a stronger resemblance, but even so there's the sense both in Legend and 28 days at their beginnings of a man alone in a devastated world filled with violent creatures who used to be human. In both films that whole I-am-alone experience proves not to be exactly true. Both have moments of high tension, guaranteed to make at least half the moviegoers jump. We did.

Without getting too deep into spoiler territory (I hope), the ex-haematologist railed at the ending. Just didn't work for me on a scientific level. Let me say a few words that might mean something to those who have seen it: transport of biological specimens, and the scientific logistics of doing what was suggested . . . Yes, already, that's more than a few words. I'll shut up now, except to say that again the whole spectre of suspension of disbelief rears up and spoils the storyline for me. Writers, research please!