Update - for the moment you can find my interview here if you scroll down.
Okay - so I've gotten over myself but I haven't sorted out the link yet for my interview last Saturday. Will stick it up as soon as I figure it out (shows what a good university education will do for ya).
I have slowly been processing the whole interview experience and so far wonder why Emily Perkins - on the radio before me last saturday - disapproves of Harry Potter. Also wonder why we really didn't talk so much about writery things but more about my wild and misspent youth (ha ha). I had anticipated more writery questions and was a bit surprised about the direction it all took. For those who tuned in I'm glad I still made sense though. My facial expressions would have been fun to watch.
(One of the questions was, Where do we draw the line on how scary a story can be? I've had a go at adding to my interview answer here.)
Now awhile back I mentioned secrets. None were big ones, just lots of small but potentially cute chicks incubating. Out of eleven little robust eggs, sadly four chicks didn't make it out of the shell (there were tears) but one burst forth yesterday looking very fat, fluffy and pleased with itself. Still keeping 6 remaining eggs suitably warm and waiting to see what hatches. Will tell more as soon as I am able.
In other news I have just finished the first draft of a new picture book. Yowza - happy with that. And just came across this excellent write up on advice for writers on how to act in public. I like that there is just one simple rule - be nice. I even think I can manage it. Thanks to Moonrat hanging out at Editorial Ass.
Showing posts with label secrets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label secrets. Show all posts
Monday, July 13, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
In the meantime, read this...
I'm very proud of myself that I can keep a secret (or two or three...). I totally admit that I have the worst patience in the world but secrets I can do - so Fifi, no amount of begging or arm twisting will make me unseal my lips. Of course when I said 'tomorrow' I meant 'tomorrow' in publishing time which could mean weeks - hah!. I can say I am scheduled to be interviewed on the radio on July 11th, by Gordon Harcourt on RNZ according to this. But as for everything else, like you, I must wait to have things confirmed or otherwise. The interesting thing is that the one thing I have had some news on is the one thing not on my list of 10 possibles. So...
Here is an excerpt from a short story I wrote some time back, that I am very fond of, called The Gift. You can read the whole thing in the anthology, Short (Black Dog Books, 2008).
Everyone says I talk too much. My Mum says that as soon as I could make sounds when I was a baby, I would make noise all day long. When the sounds turned into words I was making sentences long before anyone else my age could. In class my teacher, Miss Watson, is forever saying, "Stop talking. Turn around and face the front of the class." Sometimes she says, "You will never learn anything if you don't listen."
My little sister Bubby says I even talk in my sleep. All night long she reckons. It's keeping her awake. My older brother Jimmy is always telling me to "Shut up."
"Mum," I call. "Jimmy told me to shut up." Mum used to come and tell him off but not anymore. Because I talk too much. I only do it because I have a lot to say. There's a lot going on in my mind and if I don't talk about it I feel like my head might explode.
Dad says if I'm not careful, I'll use up my allowance of words before I'm grown up. He says when I do I'll have to use somebody else's allowance and I'll probably start saying things like "Pass the cucumber sandwiches please, Cyril". Or maybe I just won't say anything at all. That would be the worst. My head would just keep filling up with thoughts and ideas and they'd have nowhere to go.
Then my Mum has a new baby. She calls her Renee and she is beautiful. Fat and shiny and full of smiles and giggles. She gets to be 18 months old and then two years and then two and a half and she doesn't talk at all. And then I know. I have used up my share of words just like Dad said and now I'm using up Renee's allowance too.
Here is an excerpt from a short story I wrote some time back, that I am very fond of, called The Gift. You can read the whole thing in the anthology, Short (Black Dog Books, 2008).
Everyone says I talk too much. My Mum says that as soon as I could make sounds when I was a baby, I would make noise all day long. When the sounds turned into words I was making sentences long before anyone else my age could. In class my teacher, Miss Watson, is forever saying, "Stop talking. Turn around and face the front of the class." Sometimes she says, "You will never learn anything if you don't listen."
My little sister Bubby says I even talk in my sleep. All night long she reckons. It's keeping her awake. My older brother Jimmy is always telling me to "Shut up."
"Mum," I call. "Jimmy told me to shut up." Mum used to come and tell him off but not anymore. Because I talk too much. I only do it because I have a lot to say. There's a lot going on in my mind and if I don't talk about it I feel like my head might explode.
Dad says if I'm not careful, I'll use up my allowance of words before I'm grown up. He says when I do I'll have to use somebody else's allowance and I'll probably start saying things like "Pass the cucumber sandwiches please, Cyril". Or maybe I just won't say anything at all. That would be the worst. My head would just keep filling up with thoughts and ideas and they'd have nowhere to go.
Then my Mum has a new baby. She calls her Renee and she is beautiful. Fat and shiny and full of smiles and giggles. She gets to be 18 months old and then two years and then two and a half and she doesn't talk at all. And then I know. I have used up my share of words just like Dad said and now I'm using up Renee's allowance too.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Whatever happens tomorrow, I've enjoyed today...
So that gorgeous flashy star (Venus) was trying to tell me something. I am full of secrets. I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you. Most are just hints of potential opportunities, but that is exciting enough for me right now. When publishing seemed to be a contortionist forcing itself into a smaller box and closing the lid against the world I wondered how I would get in there and find room but the lid has come ajar and I can't helping feeling more positive...Whatever happens tomorrow, I am enjoying that feeling of possibilities today. And having kept the secret of The Were-Nana being shortlisted for the NZ Post Awards for more than a month don't bother trying to get anything out of me :)
Instead I offer you this distraction at Jane Smith's blog - a post on some excellent blogs kept by editors and publishers you might like to check out.
Instead I offer you this distraction at Jane Smith's blog - a post on some excellent blogs kept by editors and publishers you might like to check out.
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