If there’s any message to my work, it is ultimately that it’s OK to be different, that it’s good to be different, that we should question ourselves before we pass judgment on someone who looks different, behaves different, talks different, is a different color.”
— Johnny Depp
all images via google image search here
I’ve now reached 25,000 words with my Currawong Book, which is why I’ve been a bit quiet on Facebook, Twitter and in Blogland. Some writers may scoff at that output but combined with being a full-time mother it’s not too dusty for me. With every 25,000 words, I reward myself with a small treat.
The annual Scarlet Stiletto Awards is on again. I didn’t think I would enter this year but a story has just begun to beat a little drum in my head.
And it has rained for days non-stop in Sydney which is heaven in the writing shed. In Little Brick we keep the fairy-lights on in the hope they chase the spirits away.
Fairy lights to keep the spirits at bay
At night the wind is so strong, I wake all the time thinking a ghost is walking down the corridor banging and shaking the walls .
Little drum stories and noisy ghosts. It’s no wonder I am always weary.
ghost image source
The older I get, the greater power I seem to have to help the world; I am like a snowball — the further I am rolled the more I gain.
– Susan B. Anthony (1820 – 1906), American civil rights leader
Beatrice, Mirka, Agatha, Brigitte
King Snowball Johnny Depp
On Sunday I retreated to the garden with a pile of weekend papers magazines (mostly featuring roses) and wrote a letter.
A real letter with a pretty envelope and four or five pages of news. I had owed my friend an email (we keep in pretty constant touch) but I wanted to surprise her with something more special than an email. I was inspired by the movie Emma. I saw it on the weekend and it made me long for a more mannerly and leisurely time when appointments were by card rather than iPhone.
It was so pleasant to sit in the winter sunshine and feel the pen on paper and misspell words as I had forgotten the dictionary (no spell-check). My brain seemed to click into a different place as I wrote to her. I used to write all my books in longhand first and I’m tempted to return to that.
The Currawong book is progressing well although it’s still early days. Will this one work? Will the story be spun in time for deadline? I’m now writing in my writing shed which is a divine place to be and which we’re currently trying to make as beautiful as we can.
I want to prune my over-grown roses and order more from the new Treloar catalogue which I love browsing through. And I want to write more letters from my garden and send less emails.
I must be one of the few people in Australia that haven’t read Tim Winton’s Cloudstreet but I have it on my list to do so. But I’ve been loving the Foxtel series which is airing at the moment.
I originally watched it for Essie Davis because I was at Matriculation College in Hobart with her.
Essie Davis
Essie was always super-talented and in the cool crowd. I was not ever part of the cool crowd and I’ve loved following her career for years. I must do a blog post on her one day as I think she’s stunning and wonderful and I love seeing Tasmanian girls make it world-wide.
Essie at Cloudstreet launch party with cast members
Even though Cloudstreet is filled with the sort of quirky characters I HATE in Australian shows (I have no idea of why Australians on screen have to be so quirky. Even if I have been described as quirky a few times I have nothing on Australian characters).
Quirkiness aside, there’s still so much of the characters that I can relate to or see in my grandparents or my parents. And the magical touches like the talking pig and the bird that excretes shillings are so lovely. But it’s the HOUSE I have fallen totally in love with and I know I’m not alone here.
This magnificent weatherboard dwelling is enough to convince even the most passionate of brick-lovers like myself that weatherboard is elegant and timeless. This ghostly house that whispers terrible secrets and harbours two families, the Pickles and the Lambs, is hauntingly beautiful in a shabby stunning way.
It’s truly fabulous Australian viewing – here’s a link to the main site if you would like more information. Now I shall finally have to read the book.
images source here
What a wonderful life I’ve had! I only wish I’d realised it sooner.” Colette
This is a favourite quote that I’ve been using a lot this week. We’ve been enjoying exploring a pre-dawn Sydney to visit Daisy’s doctor before school.
It’s an education to see Sydney’s inhabitants waking up.
The homeless people sleeping in train tunnels, fairy-lights in Hyde Park, joggers and office-cleaners.
I have revisions to do for Poets Cottage and so I’m out of the 1940s where I had just got comfortable and back to a Tasmanian sea-fishing village in the 1930s.
A great Newtown identity died this week. I’m going to miss Bob Gould.
I had discovered many treasures in his chaotic, messy shop over the last decade or so. As Chuck Mckenzie said on my Facebook, he reminded you at times of an oversized owl glowering away as you searched the huge towers of books. I also saw him as a cantankerous wizard from a Hogwarts library. A most fascinating man. I always found the perfect book for my research in his shops. I’d ask the book angels to guide me and somehow five or six books would find their way to me. Books long out of print, stories penned by ‘ordinary’ Australians giving the most terrific details of everyday life that I could use. Books that these days mightn’t have been published because they aren’t by a celebrity or a proven author. The last time I saw Mr Gould I had a pile of books for the 1940s Blue Mountains mystery book I’m working on. He looked through them, raised those eyebrows and said, ‘You have good taste in literature, young lady.’ I floated down the street afterwards, not just for the rare event of being called a young lady but my inner-geek was sated that Bob Gould said I had good taste in literature. Hats off to you, Bob Gould. With all the hoo-haa recently about publishing and technology, you were a blazing reminder of the magic, beauty and mystery that I love about bookstores and booksellers.
bob gould image source
colette image source
top hats and quote source
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=py3w5fttedA]Had a lovely morning sitting in my little garden working on revisions for Poets Cottage. Fresh washing blowing on the line, cats asleep in the sun. Blue sky, bright pansies and geraniums and garden gnomes for company Perfect working environment. And then I was in the mood for some Stevie. I still live in the 70’s when it comes to music.
The autumn light is so perfect in Sydney, bathing all the old shabby terraces and city streets in honey-haze. I have begun the Currawong book and working steadily.
I hadn’t planned to start as I still had research to do but the moon cycle was perfect and sometimes you have to take the risk, shut your eyes, trust in spirits and allow yourself to fall down the rabbit-hole of the story.
Sometimes it’s only when falling that I get the meaning and twists of the narrative. This book is filled with many things I love to read. I love diving into the story and watching the stars start to form a pattern I can follow. I’m at the first 10 000 words so only around 90 000 to go. 
But as always, when you’re a mother as well as a writer, life interrupts and just as I found my rhythm for the words and watching with excitement the word count begin… I have to start taking Daisy to more medical appointments. This time we have seen a real miracle worker in the form of Dr Peter Bablis, a highly recommended kinesiologist, homeopath, chiropractor and host of other skills. Daisy just says he is ‘handsome and looks like Chief Powhatan from Pocahontas’
Daisy in Hyde Park after seeing Peter Bablis
I have never visited a kinesiologist before and must say I was incredibly impressed by how he picked up exact stages of her life (including in the womb) when traumatic events occurred.
It’s always frustrating, however, when you can’t get the words out because of domestic life.
I’m spiralling into space and trusting the story is waiting for me around each twist and curve.
That’s the only timing that makes sense to me. Not the fob-watch or calendar but the stars, the night, the moon and the sun.
polaroid image of room top source
other images source weheartit
It’s Mother’s Day in Australia on Sunday.
Sally and Betty from Mad Men
On this day, I’ll be remembering my friends who desperately longed for children but were unable to have them. Also, a beautiful mother who recently lost her only daughter in hospital unexpectedly. And my own mother, who has spent years caring for my very ill father and is a stoic inspiration to us all.
Helena Bonham Carter toy-shopping
Motherhood – it’s the hardest job in the world and hats off to all mothers everywhere!
Lovely Elizabeth Taylor
Witchy mum
I saw this post recently on Cherry Menlove’s Blog. It’s from Tina Fey. It seems a perfect piece for Mother’s Day, especially for those of us with girls. xx
Tessa and Sophie Dahl
First, Lord:
No tattoos.
May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design?
I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her own heart with the sinewy strength of her own arms, so she need not lie with drummers.
Grant her a rough patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day –
And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a ‘Bitch’ in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a mental note to call me.
And she will forget.
But I’ll know, because I peeped it with your God eyes.
Amen.
Taken from Tina Fey’s book Bossypants.
sally and betty image source here
helena bonham carter image source here
elizabeth taylor source here
Black and white floors in the Abbey
