It was fab catching up with writer friends such as Ian Irvine, Manisha Amin, Anna Romer, Belinda Alexandra, Katherine Howell
and a host of other scribes.
About Me
Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves
Turnbull, also a national co-convenor of Sisters in Crime and the Sydney Morning Herald’s crime columnist) said that Sisters in Crime had been delighted (and amazed), to see women scooping the pools at this year’s Ned Kelly Awards (29 August).
“Four of the 6 awards on offer went to women including the Life Time Achievement Award which went to Gabrielle Lord. To cap it off, all presenters were women so it was far from the blokey affair of previous years,” she said.
“The sisters are doing it for themselves right across the crime board. This year, we’ve had the pleasure of the TV series, Miss Fishers Murder Mysteries,based on the 1920s flapper detective series by Kerry Greenwood, a founding member of Sisters in Crime.
“You open the Australian Women’s Weekly and you read a feature on Warragul member and author, Honey Brown. You open the Saturday Weekend magazine of the Herald Sun) and you read features about Sydney members Kathryn Fox and Josephine Pennicott – or Honey Brown. You walk into the airport and there is a giant illuminated poster promoting the latest novel by Cairns memberHelene Young.”’
And a few photos of my week and inspirations to share some of the Sydney sunshine.
Thank you for visiting me. Stay creative. xx
Bluebell
.Spring is coming to Sydney and the Spring Issue of Country Style is always my favourite issue of one of my fave magazines
The Bluebell is the sweetest flower That waves in summer air: Its blossoms have the mightiest power To soothe my spirit’s care.
There is a spell in purple heath Too wildly, sadly dear; The violet has a fragrant breath, But fragrance will not cheer,
The trees are bare, the sun is cold, And seldom, seldom seen; The heavens have lost their zone of gold, And earth her robe of green.
And ice upon the glancing stream Has cast its sombre shade; And distant hills and valleys seem In frozen mist arrayed.
The Bluebell cannot charm me now, The heath has lost its bloom; The violets in the glen below, They yield no sweet perfume.
But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell, ‘Tis better far away; I know how fast my tears would swell To see it smile to-day.
For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fall Adown that dreary sky, And gild yon dank and darkened wall With transient brilliancy;
How do I weep, how do I pine For the time of flowers to come, And turn me from that fading shine, To mourn the fields of home!
Emily Bronte
Life from Flag Number 5
Last Friday I volunteered to be a helper parent at my daughter’s cross-country run. My job was to stand on Flag Number 5 for the morning and ensure no children ran into the wetlands. I’m not sporty and if my daughter hadn’t told me I wouldn’t have known the Olympics was on, being half submerged in the 1940s for my current novel.
I’ve a lot of memories of my own school days, always near the end or the middle of the pack at cross-country running, swimming or any sport really.
My Daisy came 16th which didn’t impress her but I was very proud as throughout her race she continued to jog determinedly, didn’t slow her pace or give up as many children behind her did. A few even walked the entire way and didn’t give it a shot at all, despite my screaming encouragement from Flag Number 5.
But I did empathise with my daughter’s disappointment. I know how it feels to be in the middle of the pack, rarely the victor with your arm pumping the air, the band playing Waltzing Matilda. I’m no stranger to the pain of giving the race your best shot, heart bursting – and yet you’re still in the middle of the pack.
At least my daughter’s class showed a bit more restraint than some of the Australian Olympic athletes in tears nearly every day on the cover of papers. Their coaches were blaming social media for the athletes losing focus as they twittered and Facebooked, believing their cyber-space fans that they would win. There’s a lesson there for all of us about the internet’s ability to suck energy and deceive.Oh, that sly, time-wasting, silver-tongued, crocodile-eyes, lying Internet.
Helping my daughter with her homework, we researched Dawn Fraser (Australian swimmer who won eight Olympic medals) and I was amazed to discover that just before the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, Dawn was involved in a car-accident at nearby Brighton-le-sands in which her mother was killed. In the same year, Dawn came out of hospital, competed at Tokyo and won gold. That’s the sort of sportsperson I take my hat off to.
When I wasn’t on Flag Number 5 contemplating stamina, determination and what makes a champion, I have been in my writing shed working on Currawong Manor. The light is returning to Sydney and we’ve seen some blue skies. It’s a joyful time of year seeing the roses bloom and feeling the promise of Spring.
We’ve been baking, watching loads of Nigella DVDs (Daisy’s new favourite as she wants to raid the fridge of a night Nigella style), reading Harry Potter and culling our house in preparation for Spring.
For all of us who are jogging along in the middle of the pack these words are a great inspiration to me :
‘Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” Winston Churchill
Skin and Bone
My daughter and I have been enjoying snuggling together on these chilly winter nights watching the Sophie Dahl cooking series. I wish I had the very pretty house used to film The Delicious Miss Dahl. I love the literary thread Sophie weaves into her cooking. The references to Dorothy Parker, Christina Rossetti, Evelyn Waugh amongst others as she dices and chops. It’s a gluttonous bookworm’s porn.
I only wish that all ads were as good as this recent shoot that Sophie did. Whole stories in every moody, romantic shot.
Better Read than Dead on National Bookshop Day
“Bookstores make an incredible difference and many stores have really embraced the new world and made a real connection with their communities.
“We should always be trying to save bookstores. People who go in, take pictures of books and then buy online, that’s extremely upsetting for the owners. You should support your local bookstore, they need every little bit of support.
“It’s no good standing around saying ‘I used to love that store’. when it has closed. You need to support it now, with your money.”
HarperCollins Publishing Director Shona Martyn
Keep Sailing and Dreaming
This photograph was taken at our annual author’s festival hosted by my agent, Selwa Anthony (which is coming around again this September). It’s my writer pal Anna Romer and myself. I’ve been into the black hair-dye and was just about to take a family holiday to a Tasmanian sea fishing village where I would fall in love with a house called Poet’s Cottage. But here neither of us guessed what was waiting ahead.
Anna had been working away for years on different projects. As is often the case in publishing, it was ten steps forward and fifty back for both of us. But Anna kept working away. She’s a writer who prefers the bush and stars to the world of the machine. We live totally different lives. I’m in the heart of Sydney and Anna’s permanently parked hermit-like in the bush.
I am delighted to say that my lovely friend has recently had her book picked up for publication. If it’s even as quarter as lovely as Anna it will be worth reading.
Six years can seem a very long journey, but Anna’s recent publishing deal is proof that if you’re prepared to put the slog in and get yourself off the floor after rejection and heartbreak with your work, the contracts can eventually be signed. I’m sure I would have said to her at this event, as I predicted many times at different events – ‘it will be your turn one day, Anna.’
Cn, cin, Anna.
I can’t wait to toast your success at the next Sassy event. And to all who dream or harbour heartbreak who may read this post. Keep the faith, keep your eyes fixed. on your creative dream and keep sailing xx
Saints, Tarot and A Haunting Tale
The Art of Dreams
Loads of things I want to write about but I have such little time to spend online with a deadline looming for my next mystery novel. In the next few weeks I shall aim to do a few quick blog posts – bloggy sound-bites – on the topics I’ve been longing to post about.
I saw this beautiful art exhibition, Australian Symbolism The Art of Dreams, just before it closed in Sydney last weekend. I always enjoy symbolist paintings as I’m so inspired by the unconscious
. It was like entering a strange dream in the art gallery.
‘Am I real or am I dreaming?’ my daughter often asks me. I never know how to reply to that one. I enjoyed the juxtaposition of the Australian landscape with influences of Art Nouveau, Pre-Raphaelite and mystical esotericism.
I hope you have been well and the Mercury Retrograde has not been too harsh in your life. It’s been a frustrating and tumultuous time for many and publishing can be so affected as Mercury affects communication. Hasten to us, 8th of August, when the planets become more favourable. I shall meditate on some of the paintings from The Art of Dreams and plant some seeds in my garden. From the earth and creativity is where the hope of the world flowers.
Thank you for visiting me, stay creative and keep believing and dreaming. xx
“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” ― John Lennon
TALKING HEADS
I’m always nervous before public-speaking. Like a lot of authors I prefer my characters and words to represent me. This time around I used hypnotic CDs by Marisa Peer in preparation weeks beforehand.
They must have worked because despite feeling the adrenaline kick–in before I started, everyone present said how relaxed I was.
The talk went very well and it was lovely to see the room packed out. I signed quite a few books afterwards and then headed to the Bank Hotel with a few friends to celebrate Poet’s Cottage over a Thai meal.
Here we enjoyed lively conversation of books, real-estate, ghosts, tarot and magic. The Bank Hotel is always special to me because I met my husband there.
I was very touched by my friends’ support of my book. So many people came to hear my hour-long talk about my personal journey and my road to Pencubitt.
Last Friday evening, I went to see Anna Funder talk to a crowd at a very full Seymour Centre.
Anna was eloquent, intelligent and elegant as she described her experiences writing All That I Am. I found it fascinatingto hear her life journey and to put the jig-saw pieces together which led to her writing All That I am. And Anna herself was very gracious when she signed the book.
As I waited in the signing queue I overhead this from two men: ‘What did you think of that?’
‘Oh it was alright. But I prefer her book to hearing her talk about it.’
Do you enjoy hearing writers talk about their work? Leave me a comment and let me know which writers have held you spellbound. Do you feel the writer should be a mystery and allow their creations to represent them? Is the enjoyment of a book lost if you find out too much about the author?‘
Perhaps Daphne du Maurier was correct when she said, ‘Writers should be read but neither seen nor heard.’