Now that I have free time on my hands, my brain has turned to jelly. Not even coloured jelly, but more like the almost transparent kind you get from boiling pigs trotters. I have been wondering if there could be a literary equivalent of the NZ music airplay quota? What do you think?
I am non-plussed by the whole Witi Ihimaera thing, thrown on multiple levels by the plaigarism, the apology (?), the level of media coverage (I would dance naked through the streets for this kind of exposure except without the negative aspect of course), what this means in view of his teaching responsibilities and for writers in New Zealand in general and a few other things as well.
There seems to be a wave of apologising going on at the moment and I feel uncomfortable about all of it. Its like people who say, "don't take offence but..." and then go on to say something offensive. That doesn't make up for the offensive comment folks, it doesn't absolve you. These are people who if they weren't already aware they were doing something wrong, should have known. And if they did know then they shouldn't have done it. Thats why they are in these well paid positions of trust and responsibility. Yes people make mistakes and should be able to say sorry and move on but the kinds of mistakes we make reflect who we are. For example Mel Gibsons anti-semitic rant when trolleyed. Where he said it was his mistake, but what he said is what he believes - his apology couldn't cover that. Well I guess if nothing else, I now know what NZ's current apologisers really think and how they really act. And I guess I am not that impressed.
And why is Spring back-pedalling into Winter? Where's the warmth? I am so over my winter clothing. I want short sleeves and bare-feet. I can almost see the confusion in the plants in the garden. I can just about hear them saying 'my buds are cold. Should I bloom?' At least there hasn't been as many as usual of the sad little egg-filled nests blown out of trees at this time of year. My dog is off his food and as I sit at the computer typing this I am being serenaded by his belchy, squirty stomach noises. Its not conducive to creativity (not mine anyway, and i hate to think what his stomach is working on!) so i am going to take a wee break. Talk to ya later...
The regular musings of a published children's writer on writing, publishing, family, world events, and anything else that seems relevant, topical or interesting to me
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