It's been a mad period for both appearances and writing recently. Having parted company with my previous agent over concerns regards a lack of communication, I've spent the last couple of week editing Father Muerte & the Divine in order to send it to an agent who caught me on the hop by requesting to see the full manuscript earlier than expected: a good sign, I hope, but let's never line-edit and input 200+ pages of a manuscript in such short order again....
Working so hard on that project threw my timing out for September, which meant that I've spent this weekend blasting my way through The Daughters of John Anglicus, a 5000 word short story I need to deliver by the end of the month. I've always enjoyed writing short stories in compressed time frame: there's something about an impending deadline that's good for stoking the crucible of creation, but it's no damn good for family time: I own Luscious and the kids some serious attention over the coming weekends to repay their indulgence. This week will be taken up with editing and getting it to the market, and then I'll finally have a chance to draw breath and look at what to do next: with Nanowrimo looming in November I may consider revisiting the 15 000 words I've completed on Cirque and pushing that towards the 50K I think it'll take to visit that YA project.
I've also been oot and aboot doing the talking-head-type thing: in August I revisited my old stomping grounds at Curtin University to deliver my annual guest lecture, and Book Week saw me taking to the stage at Churchlands Senior High School to talk about my work, idea generation and the art of entering short story competitions. And when I say 'take to the stage' I wasn't kidding: have a gander at the theatre the school boasts.
No pressure, right? It was a great day, to be honest: I spoke to three groups of incredibly engaged, fun kids, and discovered that one group had been using Luscious' story The Hanging Tree as part of their studies, so I was able to tickle her sense of history when I got home.
And I've not been the only one: Master 9 has been King of the Kids in the last fortnight, hanging out with famous author types and generally being windswept and interesting. Back on the 9th he was an invited guest at a public talk by his literary hero, Andy Griffiths, after cool frood and AHWA buddy Mark Smith-Briggs organised a personal invitation in the wake of a bad bout of Rumination Syndrome. Master 9 had been one place in line from hearing Griffiths speak at last year's Perth Writers Festival, only for a couple of kids to cut in and leave him at the head of the queue when the door closed. To make it up to him we bought a copy of Griffiths' The 39 Story Treehouse, which he devoured in double quick time, then went out and bought for himself The 13 Story Treehouse and The 26 Story Treehouse, reading all three to the point of destruction. Until that point, he'd enjoyed reading (more on this in a moment) but hadn't been a reader. Those novels changed him. A five minute meeting alone with Griffiths, as well as a signed gift of the new The 52 Story Treehouse just about counts as the gift of the century: it hasn't left his bedside since, and has been read, as of today, no less than 5 times.
How is that grin?
A signed copy. Boy Geek Heaven!
A boy and his hero. A wonderful moment to witness.
Now, Griffiths' ever expanding Treehouse may be the series that gave Master 9 his obsessive love of reading, but the book that taught him how to read was Norman Jorgensen and James Foley's The Last Viking. Indeed, the reason he was at last year's Writers Festival at all was to meet James as he launched his book In the Lion. So imagine his insane delight when the day after meeting Griffiths, we took him to the State Library for the launch of Jorgensen and Foley's newest, The Last Viking Returns, and he got to meet Norman in person for the first time, as well as catch up with James again, both of whom treated him like an old friend. Norman and James are just about the nicest guys in the West, and the way they both took time out of their being-famous duties to catch up with him was absolutely heart-warming to see. And was my boy bouncing like a crazy thing? What do you reckon? The paper Viking helmet he coloured and cut out on the night is up on his wall, and the book itself hasn't left his bedside table since he got home: he averages one session every two days of lying back on his bed, thumbing through it at his leisure.
Master 9 meets the lovely Norman Jorgensen.
That is the smile of a very content and happy young man.
His three literary heroes, in 24 hours. Not a bad two days' work :)
And then there's Crimescene WA, the crime writing convention Luscious and I will be attending in three weeks' time. I'll be presenting a workshop on writing settings, and assisting Lyn deliver a presentation on strong women in crime fiction, which has required watching a metric fuckload of Inspector Lynley Mysteries, Girl With Dragon Tattoos in Fiery Ants Nest, and, in the coming weeks, Number One Ladies Detective Agency episodes, as well as trying to plough through the accompanying novels as best we can. Enjoyable, time-consuming, work, but frankly, it beats what I do during the working week.
So that's where I've been: racing around, desperately trying to keep myself immersed in the writing world that means an increasing amount to me as my work life becomes less and less satisfying, and Real Life (tm) presents an unending series of complications. There's been a family funeral in there, and money worries, and yet more issue with maintaining my crumbling house, but the truth is, it's the writing life that keeps my psyche above water these days (apart from my relationship with Luscious, who is the only person I can turn to at any moment, sure in the knowledge of pure and instant understanding). Keeping in touch with the writing world is a constant struggle, but it's the one I want to make.
Who'd have a peaceful life?