Wild at Heart

If you are going to write well, write wildly, write with heart.

Omar Musa urges writers to avoid 'anodyne fence-sitter art'. Inspire the reader, encourage them to imagine and grow with your story.

Letting someone else into the world you create is a wonderful gift to give.

GNH to HJR: Happiness in a Jar

People keep telling me I look happy. And it's true. I have a general sense of well-being, of contentment and satisfaction with my life.

For me, it's not about having things to be happy, but being happy with the things I have.

Bhutan measures its Gross National Happiness (GNH) based on psychological well-being, health, education, time use, cultural diversity and resilience, good governance, community vitality, ecological diversity and living standards.

Perhaps this offers some insight for happiness at a personal level: look after yourself emotionally and physically, make learning a life-long journey, be organised so you can achieve your goals, seek out difference and take in a broad range of experiences, act ethically, contribute to your community, create a garden, make the most of what you have - however much or however little this is.

Another way to know if you are happy is to create what I call your Happiness Jar Rating (HJR). It's simple. Choose a container (jar, pot, basket) and each day write down something that gave you happiness. Put the piece of paper into the container. Before long you have a ready-made reminder of positive, affirming, uplifting and dare I say it...happy memories. At this rate you'll have a seven star rating in no time!

There are fun ways to use your Happiness Jar as inspiration for writing. I'll explore this over the coming weeks.

Spring into Action

It's official. Spring is here.

If, like me, you've experienced a long, hard winter, shake off both Shakespeare ('Now is the winter of our discontent') and all thoughts of G R R Martin ('Winter is coming') and prepare your Writerly Things to Do in Spring checklist. Mine looks like this:

Organise your files - really it's about version control. You might have some pearls in the early versions of stories or the soon-to-be-best-seller, but you don't need to look at them all the time. Whether electronic or paper, put the older versions into a separate folder. It will clear your workspace and your mind. It also prevents you accidentally editing the 'wrong' version, or 'losing' the changes.

Set yourself a writing challenge - if writing matters to you, no more excuses! Get on with it. Can you create 500 words every day for a week? Or write for 24 hours straight? Or write 200 words in every coffee shop in town? Or create a short story in 100 words while you're on the bus to work?

Find a writing buddy - someone who is interested in writing too, who will hold you to account, who will encourage and nourish you and tell it like it is when you share early drafts. Avoid partners/spouses/parents/children/close friends. These people are lovely, but they don't have enough emotional distance for the task.

Enter a competition - yes, everyone else is doing this, but you have to be in it to win it. At the very least you will have a new piece of creditable writing that you may be able to publish elsewhere. If are the winner, fantastic!

Dust off old ideas - take something you have set aside for a while (yes, even for years) and give it a good going over. Change the perspective, introduce a new character, find a different location, try new dialogue, create a new opening sentence or revamp the title.

See, this is why you need to have a good filing system, be prepared to set yourself a writing challenge, have a writing buddy and a competition to send the finished product to.

So spring into action - there's no time to waste.

What has HARDCOPY ever done for me?

Becoming part of HARDCOPY 2014 has certainly been a turning point. It has given me the confidence to pursue my writing.

When I wrote the application last year, one of the questions I was asked to answer was about what I hoped to achieve by being part of HARDCOPY. I remember thinking that making connections with the writing community would be a great outcome of the program.

Writing alone in my study is one thing, being part of a group of like-minded people is something else altogether.

One of the offshoots of HARDCOPY was the creation of a monthly writers workshop in Canberra. We get together to support each other with our writing and to remind ourselves that others value the cultural work we do as writers.

Last night we braved the cold to meet (where else?) at Tilley's. Our usual table was waiting for us, and we workshopped an eclectic mix of stories. So thank you HARDCOPY for the ongoing camaraderie, the sense of purpose and the wonderful group of writers I am privileged to call friends.  

Mr Percival All Over Again

Fingerbone: Mr Percival all over again, a bird like him never dies. Stormboy (1964)

Whenever there is a deluge in the outback, Lake Eyre fills with water and birds fly in from everywhere to take advantage of the brief oasis it offers. Pelicans nest and breed, somehow sensing the urgency of the season.

This cycle is a fantastic metaphor for writing. There will be dry spells, even droughts, but, like the Warburton River, the creative inspiration will flow again. When it does, write like your life depends on it!

Spinning

The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring - Annie Dillard

Some days I'm so wrapped up in my writing that I lose track of time. It's as if my head is spinning in a universe where the story is being manufactured, word by word. 

When this happens, the characters take on a life of their own and their actions feel almost autonomous. Writing becomes euphoric and a giddy sense of daring takes over - like running across stones in a river. If you stop and look down you'll fall. But if you keep your focus, and skip across, you will surprise yourself.

Here's to reaching the other side - with dry toes!

Riddles

Alive without breath, 
As cold as death; 
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail, never clinking.
The Hobbit

Writing is like solving a riddle. There is a puzzle and the writer has to find all the pieces. 

Fishing for the internal logic that brings the different parts together as a coherent whole, requires patience and ruthlessness. There is no room for a kiss and release approach. You need to be prepared to snag and bag the ideas wherever and whenever you find them.  

Like riddles, the act of writing is sometimes ridiculous, frustrating, challenging, hilarious and nonsensical. But if you can work it out, the satisfaction whumps you like a punchline.

No Agony - Let the Bird Sing!

'There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.' Maya Angelou - I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Everyone has at least one story to tell. If you have ever tried (and failed) to keep a secret, then you know how insistent the urge can be to pass on the story you have been given for safe-keeping. 

As a writer, the story inside is like a secret that is beating its wings against the bars of the cage, trying to escape.

Dog in the Night

I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them. Mark Haddon -The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night

Why is it that the great ideas often come when you wake in the middle of the night? They are like a dog's wet nose - surprising, annoying, but a reminder that you are alive.

Like prime numbers, the midnight ideas have an arcane set of rules that do not require a detailed understanding for everyday use. All you have to do is write them down. It's as easy as ABC - or is that 1,2,3?

Any Beginning Will Do

'Never lose an opportunity of urging a practical beginning' 
Florence Nightingale - the Lady with the Lamp

From the point of view of a writer, any beginning will do, as long as it's a start. The blank page can intimidate you into all manner of procrastination:

• Sharpen pencils (first find pencils and sharpener)
• Turn on computer (check FB, comment, like, reply, friend, unfriend ad infinitum)
• Make coffee (grind beans, refill sugar pot - at a pinch wash up or run the dishwasher - bake scones, whip cream, invite friends to eat, shake crumbs from cleavage)
• Research topic (search library catalogue, read online snippets, look up Wikepedia, sigh, check bookshelf for related items, tidy bookshelf, alphabetise books by title, decide alphabetising books by author is better, read three other novels)
• Light lamp (turning on lights is a reasonable alternative since by now it will be dark)
• Put pencils in order according to size (ready for the morning)
• Turn off computer  (after checking FB, commenting, liking, replying, friending, unfriending ad infinitum).

Job done. Fresh start tomorrow!

Starting Somewhere

‘Almost all good writing begins with terrible efforts. You need to start somewhere.’

Anne Lamott – Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

For the last few months I have been writing full-time. Every morning when I sit at my writing table I tell myself  'start somewhere'. 

It seems the trick is to turn off the self doubt and just start typing. Here are some techniques I have used to let my inner creative take hold: 

• Describe the story behind an interesting photograph
• Start with three key words
• Use a news story and pretend to be a character in it
• Write like crazy (and don't even think about editing!)

Drive Towards Mullumbimby

When I crest the hill I see the curve of the land cupping the bay and holding it up to the horizon. As I drive towards Mullumbimby, hugged in the palm of the land, the thumb of the lighthouse is at one end of the bay and the skyscraper fingers of the Gold Coast are at the other.

Each time I see this I feel the same kind of wonder that I experienced the day Dad had opened his hands to show me the surprise nestled inside; a blue diamond butterfly that had flicked its wings before flying into the sky.

Drive Towards Mullumbimby: Karin Maier 2015

Our farm was wrapped in the embrace of ancient hills that spoke of the time when volcanoes ruled. The valleys held remnant rainforests that drew on this alluvial legacy, making ferns and orchids that were too fragile to pick. 

As a child I played in the cold, cold water of springs that tumbled down the rocky steps of waterfalls. I squeezed the silt, soft as silk, between my toes. It seemed like a paradise full of treasure.

‘What do you think I’ve got?’ Dad asked, playing the game that required me to guess.

‘A flower?’

‘A sparkly stone?’

Often it was a dandelion ready to be blown. Sometimes a piece of quartz washed from the mountain. But it might also be a beetle, shiny and iridescent like a Christmas decoration. Or a cicada, green and quivering with the noise of its life that seemed somehow trapped inside it. This time it was the butterfly.

‘Look how it goes,’ he said.

I watched its wings beat up and down. The propulsion took it into the green leaves of a tree and it flew there a while in the dappled light. Exhausted, it settled on a branch.

‘Will it die?’ I asked, knowing even then that all creatures have a time and place allotted.

‘Eventually,’ Dad said.

We stood for a moment, acknowledging that truth.

As an adult, I value that instance of honesty more and more. It held within it the need for urgency; to do what you can with the time you have. Your wings may be small, but they can lift you.

So today I am trying to fly - into an expanse of creativity, mapped against the contours of the place that nurtured me. Every heartbeat pumps a memory. I breathe the ageless air that lifted the butterfly and I know I am coming home.  

Five Generations - the Inspiration of a Blanket

The bag contained a red ball of yarn and a partially completed, hand-crocheted blanket. I had been sorting my mother’s possessions, intending to donate her craft items to her friends at the local Craft Club. When I first saw the blanket I considered unraveling the yarn – perhaps someone else would be able to use it?

But when I picked the blanket up, it was warm and soft, and it gave me pause. I saw an image of Mum’s hands holding it as she crocheted. Suddenly the blanket was too personal, almost intimate, and I resolved it had another purpose.

A few days later, I searched for my crochet hook and sat with the blanket on my knees as I worked my way around the edge using a double crochet stitch. I thought about the importance Mum had placed on the simple pleasure of making the blanket, even though she was unwell, and her stitches showed her deterioration. I chose not to unpick those sometimes ragged stitches, instead working them into the final pattern, wrapping my own stitches around them like a hug.

Hooking the yarn, I also thought of my grandmothers who had helped me as I leaned a new crochet stitch or struggled with a doily pattern. I wondered if they knew the skills they taught me would be used on a day such as this?

When I give the blanket to Mum’s great-grand-daughter, my grand-niece, this practical heirloom will wrap together, with knowledge and love, five generations of women.

Excuse #23 - Bowling a Maiden Over

When players from Afghanistan and Bangladesh run up and down the pitch at Manuka Oval as part of the Cricket World Cup, I might try to write a pitch for my latest story.

It would not be the first time I’ve whiled away my time at a cricket match. All those Saturday mornings keeping score at junior cricket or the time I got sunburnt at the Prime Minister’s XI come to mind. And filling in a blank scoresheet is a whole lot easier than writing words on a blank page.

Given that junior cricket is a few weeks away, the answer for writer’s block could be a trip to Bowral. Pottering through the Bradman Museum and International Cricket Hall of Fame or having a picnic at the picturesque Bradman Oval is bound to be inspirational. I’ve just got time to dust off the folding chair and fill the esky before the game between Cootamundra and Bowral on 15 February.

Cricket Captains Walk Cootamundra

As for Cootamundra, serious procrastinators would enjoy the Cricket Captains Walk where it’s possible to admire Australia’s cricketing greats, soak up the ambiance and think about statistical probabilities. I have calculated the likelihood of producing a quick 500 words after this kind of nostalgic reflection to be 500 to 1 against, with the usual standard deviation – much like a cricket ball off a crack in the wicket.

Statistically speaking, I might be better Setting Up My Starting XI for success. This is where I channel the Australian selectors online and pick a World Cup Team full of players like World Cup debutants Glenn Maxwell (122 off 57 balls in the warm-up match) and David Warner (127 off 115 balls against England at the SCG). It’s like writing that virtual best-seller where I can be Margaret Atwood and Ursula Le Guin all at once.

To even up the odds, when the Australian Cricket Team plays England at the Melbourne Cricket Ground on Valentine’s Day, and my loved one steps up to the remote control, I’ll pick up my pen, and like any good opener, settle in. I should be able to show some resilience, develop a relaxed style, get some runs on the board, and hit a six or two in my allotted overs. If I get drinks as well, I’ll know someone’s bowled a maiden over.

Grand Designs

2015 opens up the possibility of a fresh start, a renovation or at least a makeover. 

I’m not referring to something requiring an architect’s plan although knowing the overall design, understanding the purpose of the various compartments, crafting the specifications for all the fixtures and fittings, and placing the details on the page seem apposite. 

I mean a re-write; in this case for my HARDCOPY novel. I’m taking it apart, adding a new room or two, improving the entrance for maximum impact and giving it a new colour scheme. 

Like all good makeovers, there is an estimated time to completion and an expected blow-out. Seems like I’m the project manager so here goes…

Adding a new room

A Day at the Races

K.A.L.O.I.

This past month has been a rollercoaster of emotions. The excitement and intensity of the three-day HARDCOPY 2014 workshop on 26-28 September was followed by a week of introspection while I tried to process all the information that we had been privy to. How on earth is it possible to juggle my writing, my social media strategy, my networking activities and my ongoing professional development while holding down a full-time job, raising a family and staying even a little bit sane? The jury is out on which ball will fall first. Assuming of course that I can get them all in the air at once.

Then I spent ten days being too afraid to check my emails.  This is not the ordinary form of technophobia but a much more visceral concern. Although quite common, there is no official definition for this but I can say with authority it has something to do with the possibility of finding a rejection letter lurking behind a benign subject line.

The un-Ken HARDCOPY workshop at Tilleys reminded me that all of us HARDCOPIERS were in the same boat (some even brought their computers...but I can’t speculate on the level of email checking that occurred). And let’s not get started on the implications of a mixed metaphor in which electrical implements could be juggled in a flotation device. It seemed at that time that the HARDCOPY Round II result was still weeks away.

So buoyed by the prospect that my current email list was in fact benign, I chanced a look and found to my amazement a missive from the ACT Writers Centre (one juggle ball takes a tentative throw and catch). I had to read it three times to double check that I really understood what it said. My manuscript had been selected!  This was followed by a feeling of euphoria (all balls thrown wildly into the air) which was immediately tempered by the Facebook posts of others who had not made it through (balls on the ground).

This morning I woke up and realised I’ve been holding my breath all week, waiting for the official results to be posted on the ACT Writers website.  Using a sporting analogy, I’ve been Keeping A Lid On It.  Strangely, the emotional rollercoaster came to land at the feet of my high school PE teacher, whose astute observation that I had no ball sense might even have nudged me closer to my writing future.  So thanks Mrs Barnes. And by the way, I think my ball sense is improving. 

HARDCOPY and the AFL

(or how becoming a writer is just like walking onto the MCG )

I realised I was committed to my writing when I agreed to attend the HARDCOPY program scheduled on the same weekend as the AFL Grand Final. But as I asked myself, ‘What would Buddy do?’ the parallels between these two great events suddenly crystallised.

Buddy Franklin and the Sydney Swans checked in their luggage and travelled to Melbourne today in preparation for the big weekend. I checked I had a notebook and a pen, then worked out how to catch the bus to Ainslie. On Saturday, while Hawthorn and Sydney are getting ready for the kick-off, my writing skills will be getting a kick along with the session on digital publishing.  When Buddy is making connections with the footy, I’ll be learning about connections in the publishing industry. The fourth quarter will be ticking its way to the final siren as I try to hand-ball a serious question to the panel in the final session of the day.

So while Buddy takes a deep breath and dreams about walking onto the MCG, I’ll take a deep breath and dream about the day my manuscript becomes a novel.    

A/musing

I bumped into a former work colleague, Jenny, at the Canberra Theatre last night and it started me thinking about the passage of time. She mentioned she had been at my farewell from a posting in Bangkok, which was in 2005.

That final month in Bangkok saw my son turn seven and a week later have his appendix removed at the BNH. I remember the aching anxiety between the time I held the anaesthetic mask over his face prior to the operation and watching him shiver back to wakefulness in recovery less than an hour later. It seemed like an eternity.

These days Aidan doesn’t need his teddy (who happily also recovered from the appendix experience). And as a young adult he doesn’t need me in the same way he did at seven.  At the theatre last night, and nearly ten years on, he towered over me and made polite conversation.

He’s noticed the passage of time too.  “You’re not embarrassing anymore,” he said to me earlier this week. 

While I was trying to work out when I had ever been embarrassing (spinach in my teeth? forgetting someone’s name? kissing him good-bye at the school drop-off? ), he let me know we’d moved on to a new phase. Phew. Despite the sands of time shifting slightly under my feet, I felt relief. Even though I’d missed this awkward phase, it was over.  Probably best for both of us.

"You can do anything you like,” he said. The sands tilted further as I processed the fact that I was being given permission. Hmm.  He patted me gently on the arm and said, “Now you’re just amusing.”

Finding the Muse

Finding that moment of inspiration is one of the joys of writing.

My Welsh Mountain pony, Twilight, started me on my journey as a writer. I remember how excited I was the day my Dad brought her home. I couldn't believe her softness, her smell, her beautiful dappled coat and that she was really mine to ride. So I wrote a poem about her. It was printed in the school magazine and I became a published author.

I love this photo of Twilight on our farm near Mullumbimby

Twilight isn't with us any more, but her memory and inspiration survives.

What inspired you to start writing ?