At the launch of Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist*, both Ros Price (the publisher) and David Levithan (one of the two authors) said some very nice things.
I don't think it's entirely true to say that the book only got published in Australia because Mike and I pushed so hard for it. The book got published in Australia because it's fucking awesome. We just pointed that out to some people (okay, everyone we met), and Allen & Unwin were nice enough to listen.
It is very gratifying to learn that, when it comes to YA in Australia, my opinions count for something. It's flattering. It also feels like a responsibility.
I have a pile of signed books from Reading Matters, from writers who I respect more than I can say. And many of these authors, above their signatures, thanked me for "fighting the good fight".
This is, in part, a reference to David Levithan's amazing, moving, provocative and inspiring talk about "Killing the Vampires" and making sure the right books get to the teens who really need to see themselves on the shelves of their library.
I can't do justice to what he said with a neat summary. You will have to hear it yourselves. It was a talk for librarians, but everyone needs to hear it. At the conference, it received a standing ovation. I was not the only person moved to tears.
And you need to do more than hear it. You need to copy it, you need to put it on your blog, you need to tell people about it, talk about it, think about it. It has a Creative Commons license, so use it as you will.
Help us fight the good fight.
---------------------------------------------
* review here and first chapter here
16 June 2007
12 June 2007
Ephebiphobia
Dear Mr Schembri,
My friend Jellyfish has just sent me a rather irate email containing a link to your latest offering in The Age.
In response to your '10 key reasons why children should not be allowed in cinemas', I would like to alert you of '1 really key reason why Jim Schembri should not be allowed in print'.
The other day, David Levithan said that homophobia was the last acceptable prejudice. He was wrong. There is another one, and it is ephebiphobia. The fear of young people. (or pedophobia, the fear of children and babies).
Do you think if Jim Schembri had written an article on 10 reasons why we shouldn't let WOMEN or JEWS or BLACK PEOPLE into cinemas, it would have been published?
Why does our society see young people as some kind of lesser species?
Apart from all of the absolute bollocks you see in the media about "teens running wild" and all of the head-shaking and 'in my day'-ing that goes on today, have a think about these 10 things:
1. children as young as 12 can be tried for crimes as adults
2. children can't vote, as they are cited to have a lower level of reasoning. But adults don't have to prove any level of reasoning to vote.
3. the 'lower level of reasoning' line was also used to prevent people with different coloured skins and vaginas from voting up until the 20th century.
4. Senile people have a say in how their country is run. Alcholics and psychotics and murderers and rapists have a say in how their country is run. Not young people.
5. children are forced to attend underfunded schools, have little or no access to free health care, and will have to grow up coping with catastrophic global warming, but have no voice to protest or bring about change.
6. they also have to pay taxes AND superannuation, if they are earning money (not to mention the fucking GST), but with no legal say in how those funds are managed.
7. in the US, poverty among young people exceeds all other age groups, yet the government spends 10 times more on each poor senior than each poor child.
8. you can be a Christian and a child. A Muslim and a child. You can be gay. You can be disabled. You can be poor. You can be homeless. But you're not allowed to have an opinion. (or, if Jim Schembri has his way, go to the fucking cinema)
9. many people in Positions of Influence seem to think that young people should constantly be educated - that books must be either Classics or about Real Issues (see the YA winner of the WA Premier's Award for a recent and tooth-grinding example), television should only be documentaries, and computers are just plain evil.
10. I'll stop ranting now and quote Goosebumps author RL Stine: I believe that kids as well as adults are entitled to books of no socially redeeming value.
Stop picking on the young people. Or at least give them an opportunity to respond.
(With thanks to the NYRA and this episode of the West Wing.)
My friend Jellyfish has just sent me a rather irate email containing a link to your latest offering in The Age.
In response to your '10 key reasons why children should not be allowed in cinemas', I would like to alert you of '1 really key reason why Jim Schembri should not be allowed in print'.
The other day, David Levithan said that homophobia was the last acceptable prejudice. He was wrong. There is another one, and it is ephebiphobia. The fear of young people. (or pedophobia, the fear of children and babies).
Do you think if Jim Schembri had written an article on 10 reasons why we shouldn't let WOMEN or JEWS or BLACK PEOPLE into cinemas, it would have been published?
Why does our society see young people as some kind of lesser species?
Apart from all of the absolute bollocks you see in the media about "teens running wild" and all of the head-shaking and 'in my day'-ing that goes on today, have a think about these 10 things:
1. children as young as 12 can be tried for crimes as adults
2. children can't vote, as they are cited to have a lower level of reasoning. But adults don't have to prove any level of reasoning to vote.
3. the 'lower level of reasoning' line was also used to prevent people with different coloured skins and vaginas from voting up until the 20th century.
4. Senile people have a say in how their country is run. Alcholics and psychotics and murderers and rapists have a say in how their country is run. Not young people.
5. children are forced to attend underfunded schools, have little or no access to free health care, and will have to grow up coping with catastrophic global warming, but have no voice to protest or bring about change.
6. they also have to pay taxes AND superannuation, if they are earning money (not to mention the fucking GST), but with no legal say in how those funds are managed.
7. in the US, poverty among young people exceeds all other age groups, yet the government spends 10 times more on each poor senior than each poor child.
8. you can be a Christian and a child. A Muslim and a child. You can be gay. You can be disabled. You can be poor. You can be homeless. But you're not allowed to have an opinion. (or, if Jim Schembri has his way, go to the fucking cinema)
9. many people in Positions of Influence seem to think that young people should constantly be educated - that books must be either Classics or about Real Issues (see the YA winner of the WA Premier's Award for a recent and tooth-grinding example), television should only be documentaries, and computers are just plain evil.
10. I'll stop ranting now and quote Goosebumps author RL Stine: I believe that kids as well as adults are entitled to books of no socially redeeming value.
Stop picking on the young people. Or at least give them an opportunity to respond.
(With thanks to the NYRA and this episode of the West Wing.)
06 June 2007
5 things to know about my novel
1. The first word is "The"
2. The last word is "story"
3. It is 375 pages long
4. It is, according to Ursula Dubsosarsky: For lovers of reality and romance, history and fantasy - a truly endearing book
5. It is FINISHED.
2. The last word is "story"
3. It is 375 pages long
4. It is, according to Ursula Dubsosarsky: For lovers of reality and romance, history and fantasy - a truly endearing book
5. It is FINISHED.
05 June 2007
Buttonmania
If you live in Melbourne, and haven't been to Buttonmania, now is the time. They're having a sale. Even if you're not into buttons, you should go anyway. It's in the Nicholas Building on the corner of Swanston and Flinders Lane, which is one of my favourite buildings in Melbourne. It's full of twisty corridors and strange little shops and studios, and has a creaky old attendant lift. And a man on the top floor who makes cyber-fairies.This is my haul - under $20 - think of all the creatures I can make!
04 June 2007
Dear Next-door Neighbour,
Hi!
How are you?
I'm great. You wanna know why? Because I have a week off work. I plan to write a lot, see my friends, and sleep in.
EXCEPT.
Except you don't want me to do that, do you?
You have chosen this week to demolish your apartment.
And you seem to like, more than anything, starting work at SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. WITH A REALLY REALLY BIG DRILL. INTO YOUR WALL, WHICH ALSO HAPPENS TO BE MY WALL.
IT'S LIKE YOU ARE DRILLING INTO MY HEAD.
And it's not like I can just go 'oh well, no sleep in for me, I'll just start writing!'. No. It's a bit hard to be creative when someone is
a) yelling to their mates
b) playing crap music really loud
c) DRILLING INTO MY HEAD
Please stop. Please go away. Please move to Altona.
Love,
Lili.
(ps. ok, when i said 'please stop', I meant stop everything, not please stop drilling and start banging.)
How are you?
I'm great. You wanna know why? Because I have a week off work. I plan to write a lot, see my friends, and sleep in.
EXCEPT.
Except you don't want me to do that, do you?
You have chosen this week to demolish your apartment.
And you seem to like, more than anything, starting work at SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. WITH A REALLY REALLY BIG DRILL. INTO YOUR WALL, WHICH ALSO HAPPENS TO BE MY WALL.
IT'S LIKE YOU ARE DRILLING INTO MY HEAD.
And it's not like I can just go 'oh well, no sleep in for me, I'll just start writing!'. No. It's a bit hard to be creative when someone is
a) yelling to their mates
b) playing crap music really loud
c) DRILLING INTO MY HEAD
Please stop. Please go away. Please move to Altona.
Love,
Lili.
(ps. ok, when i said 'please stop', I meant stop everything, not please stop drilling and start banging.)
01 June 2007
Lili's top 10 ways to procrastinate make proofreading fun
1. Eat chocolate.
2. Have a glass of wine.
3. Exfoliate, and apply face-mask.
4. Crochet.
5. Check if term "fired" (as in "you're fired") was used in 1814. (it wasn't. first recorded usage is in the US in 1885)
6. Deliberate on the various merits of the em dash (—) or the spaced en ( – ).
7. Check what font my novel is set in. (Garamond Simoncini. Claude Garamond was a typesetter in the early 16th century, but this particular typeface was designed by a later bloke called Jean Jannon)
8. Check out today's lolcats, lolbots, lolprezs and lolpilgrims.
9. Make lolproofreedin:
10. Blog it.
2. Have a glass of wine.
3. Exfoliate, and apply face-mask.
4. Crochet.
5. Check if term "fired" (as in "you're fired") was used in 1814. (it wasn't. first recorded usage is in the US in 1885)
6. Deliberate on the various merits of the em dash (—) or the spaced en ( – ).
7. Check what font my novel is set in. (Garamond Simoncini. Claude Garamond was a typesetter in the early 16th century, but this particular typeface was designed by a later bloke called Jean Jannon)
8. Check out today's lolcats, lolbots, lolprezs and lolpilgrims.
9. Make lolproofreedin:
10. Blog it.
31 May 2007
Zzzz
So Reading Matters was over, and I was all ready to have a nice, quiet week. Go to work, go home, watch TV, eat mac&cheese, see my friends. Wear pjs a lot.
Then my editor sent me this email on Tuesday afternoon that said:
Scatterheart is going to press on Monday...
Monday.
MONDAY.
That's the day after the day after the day after tomorrow.
MONDAY.
So now my nice quiet pjs and mac and cheese week has turned into a CRAZY PROOFREADING AND LAST MINUTE CHANGES week. With a constant tirade of emails saying things like "I'm wondering if we should delete the possum scene, to increase narrative flow".
(But they wanted more sex! the possums were HAVING SEX! Oh well.)
Okay. I'm going to go and eat a banana now.
Then my editor sent me this email on Tuesday afternoon that said:
Scatterheart is going to press on Monday...
Monday.
MONDAY.
That's the day after the day after the day after tomorrow.
MONDAY.
So now my nice quiet pjs and mac and cheese week has turned into a CRAZY PROOFREADING AND LAST MINUTE CHANGES week. With a constant tirade of emails saying things like "I'm wondering if we should delete the possum scene, to increase narrative flow".
(But they wanted more sex! the possums were HAVING SEX! Oh well.)
Okay. I'm going to go and eat a banana now.
27 May 2007
Reading Matters
I've spent the last few days/weeks/months subsumed in Reading Matters 2007. Reading Matters is the YA literature conference that I organise with my colleague Mike Shuttleworth.
This week, we had a three-day conference of 350 delegates, 25 authors, 1300 kids and about 300 members of the general public. We talked about What Matters (more on that anon). I had the enormous privilege and pleasure of hanging out with Scott, Justine, David, Margo, Ursula and everyone else.
My head is so full of ideas and thoughts, but right now I am tired and emotional and perhaps a little drunk.
I love my job.
This week, we had a three-day conference of 350 delegates, 25 authors, 1300 kids and about 300 members of the general public. We talked about What Matters (more on that anon). I had the enormous privilege and pleasure of hanging out with Scott, Justine, David, Margo, Ursula and everyone else.
My head is so full of ideas and thoughts, but right now I am tired and emotional and perhaps a little drunk.
I love my job.
18 May 2007
Lloyd Alexander
Lloyd Alexander died yesterday, two weeks after his wife. He'd just finished his last book, The Golden Dream of Carlo Chuchio. He was 83.
I consider the Chronicles of Prydain to be one of the formative texts of my life. I actually came across them in a very Gen-Y sort of way - when I was 7 or 8, my mum bought me the computer game of The Black Cauldron, based on the Disney film. It was the first computer game I ever played, and I seriously don't think one has ever been made to rival it. I didn't see the film until many years later, but I loved the game.
Around the same time, Mum was learning Chinese at Victoria College. She had an evening class, and instead of being babysat by some creepy neighbour, I usually opted to go with her, and hang out in the library. Luckily, it was the same part of the university that taught education, so there were plenty of children's books there.
I have such a strong memory of wanting something new to read, and thinking I'd pick something from the A section, and work my way through to Z. I went over to A, and low and behold, there was a book called The Black Cauldron! And not just one book, a whole five-part series! I borrowed them all and was immediately hooked.
As a tribute and a thank you to Mr Alexander, I'm bumping everything else off my to-read pile and re-reading the Chronicles. I will also re-watch the film this weekend, and perhaps see if there's some sneaky way that my iBook can run the game. I will blog with thoughts.
I consider the Chronicles of Prydain to be one of the formative texts of my life. I actually came across them in a very Gen-Y sort of way - when I was 7 or 8, my mum bought me the computer game of The Black Cauldron, based on the Disney film. It was the first computer game I ever played, and I seriously don't think one has ever been made to rival it. I didn't see the film until many years later, but I loved the game.
Around the same time, Mum was learning Chinese at Victoria College. She had an evening class, and instead of being babysat by some creepy neighbour, I usually opted to go with her, and hang out in the library. Luckily, it was the same part of the university that taught education, so there were plenty of children's books there.I have such a strong memory of wanting something new to read, and thinking I'd pick something from the A section, and work my way through to Z. I went over to A, and low and behold, there was a book called The Black Cauldron! And not just one book, a whole five-part series! I borrowed them all and was immediately hooked.
As a tribute and a thank you to Mr Alexander, I'm bumping everything else off my to-read pile and re-reading the Chronicles. I will also re-watch the film this weekend, and perhaps see if there's some sneaky way that my iBook can run the game. I will blog with thoughts.
16 May 2007
15 May 2007
Three good things for every (three) bad
This is my new tactic to not sound like too much of a whinger.
So first, I present three lovely things that I saw on the train this week, that made me love people.
1. An octogenarian reading a large print Harry Potter.
2. A man doing tai-chi alone, in the middle of a vacant lot, surrounded by early-morning mist.
3. An amazing piece of urban art, where lego-style men made from dozens of coloured milk crates scaled a large building between Victoria Park and Clifton Hill.
Now, three things that make me ashamed to be a human.
1. The Pentagon has decreed that all military in Iraq who blog must submit their posts to a superior officer for approval before posting. They've also banned YouTube, Myspace and a bunch of other sites. Their excuse is that their super-uber-mega-military computers are
being "slown down" by people watching stupid videos of cats playing the piano, and being exposed to viruses (I'm sorry, but if US military servers can be taken down with a virus you get from surfing MySpace, then Georgie, we have a fucking problem). Nothing at all to do with stopping stuff like this getting out. Oh, no.
2. This site. Just go there, and then hang your head in shame and take out the recycling.
3. That our government seems to think that the way to solve education problems in this country is to a) give more money to the schools who are already doing well, and b) give money to parents who have dumb kids.
Here's a conversation I expect will be happening in many an Aussie household if Our Illustrious Leader gets back into power:
Mum: Hi, kid. How'd you do in school this week?
Kid: Great, mum. I got an A.
Mum: You little shit. Couldn't you be a bit dumber? I could really use that $700.
Wow. That lowered the tone. Better have a cheezburger to cheer us all up.
Oh, alright. Just one more.
So first, I present three lovely things that I saw on the train this week, that made me love people.
1. An octogenarian reading a large print Harry Potter.
2. A man doing tai-chi alone, in the middle of a vacant lot, surrounded by early-morning mist.
3. An amazing piece of urban art, where lego-style men made from dozens of coloured milk crates scaled a large building between Victoria Park and Clifton Hill.
Now, three things that make me ashamed to be a human.
1. The Pentagon has decreed that all military in Iraq who blog must submit their posts to a superior officer for approval before posting. They've also banned YouTube, Myspace and a bunch of other sites. Their excuse is that their super-uber-mega-military computers are
being "slown down" by people watching stupid videos of cats playing the piano, and being exposed to viruses (I'm sorry, but if US military servers can be taken down with a virus you get from surfing MySpace, then Georgie, we have a fucking problem). Nothing at all to do with stopping stuff like this getting out. Oh, no.
2. This site. Just go there, and then hang your head in shame and take out the recycling.
3. That our government seems to think that the way to solve education problems in this country is to a) give more money to the schools who are already doing well, and b) give money to parents who have dumb kids.
Here's a conversation I expect will be happening in many an Aussie household if Our Illustrious Leader gets back into power:
Mum: Hi, kid. How'd you do in school this week?
Kid: Great, mum. I got an A.
Mum: You little shit. Couldn't you be a bit dumber? I could really use that $700.
Wow. That lowered the tone. Better have a cheezburger to cheer us all up.
Oh, alright. Just one more.
12 May 2007
09 May 2007
SEX
Apparently, my novel isn't actually about convicts and giant White Bears at all. According to my publishers, it's about SEX, and becoming sexually aware.
And all the bits where I tried to be subtle (like the man who has syphilis, but I never SAID it was syphilis) - they need to go. Just put it all out there.
HEY KIDS! THIS IS A BOOK ABOUT SEX!!*
AND DON'T HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX, CAUSE YOU'LL GET SYPHILIS AND YOUR NOSE WILL FALL OFF!!!
Seriously, though. It is unbelievable difficult to write sexual tension without it falling into a revolting pit of slimy, writhing, throbbing millsandboon cliches.
...her heart swelled...
...she felt a quickening...
...their eyes met...
...he touched her hand, she she felt a tingling...
Yech.
__________________________
(((*there is no actual sex in the book, though**. except for that bit with two very minor characters up against a wall.)))
((((**much like MY LIFE))))
And all the bits where I tried to be subtle (like the man who has syphilis, but I never SAID it was syphilis) - they need to go. Just put it all out there.
HEY KIDS! THIS IS A BOOK ABOUT SEX!!*
AND DON'T HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX, CAUSE YOU'LL GET SYPHILIS AND YOUR NOSE WILL FALL OFF!!!
Seriously, though. It is unbelievable difficult to write sexual tension without it falling into a revolting pit of slimy, writhing, throbbing millsandboon cliches.
...her heart swelled...
...she felt a quickening...
...their eyes met...
...he touched her hand, she she felt a tingling...
Yech.
__________________________
(((*there is no actual sex in the book, though**. except for that bit with two very minor characters up against a wall.)))
05 May 2007
A Week in the Life of a Lili
I have no memory of Monday.
On Tuesday, I walked into a lecture theatre filled with about 120 year 8 girls. They all stood up and chorused 'Good mo-orning, Miss Wilkinso-on'. I nearly turned around and walked out again.
On Wednesday, I saw Keating! (musical about Aussie ex-Prime Minister featuring songs set in the key of Awesome), and will never be able to think of Alexander Downer in the same way ever again.
On Thursday, I did a double-take as I went through airport security in Sydney, when I saw a billboard advertising Schapelle Corby's book. Airport security. Yeah.
On Friday, I submitted some photos for John Green's Brotherhood 2.0 Happy Birthday Hank video. Which is also Made of Awesome.
Today is Saturday. It is the Munkey's birthday party tonight, and he is making us do something Weird and Creative involving Singing. I have busted out the crochet needles again and made him this, as a birthday present:
At the moment his name is Birthday Monkey, but I'm open to suggestions for a better name.
Happy Birthday Munkey!! xx
On Tuesday, I walked into a lecture theatre filled with about 120 year 8 girls. They all stood up and chorused 'Good mo-orning, Miss Wilkinso-on'. I nearly turned around and walked out again.
On Wednesday, I saw Keating! (musical about Aussie ex-Prime Minister featuring songs set in the key of Awesome), and will never be able to think of Alexander Downer in the same way ever again.
On Thursday, I did a double-take as I went through airport security in Sydney, when I saw a billboard advertising Schapelle Corby's book. Airport security. Yeah.
On Friday, I submitted some photos for John Green's Brotherhood 2.0 Happy Birthday Hank video. Which is also Made of Awesome.
Today is Saturday. It is the Munkey's birthday party tonight, and he is making us do something Weird and Creative involving Singing. I have busted out the crochet needles again and made him this, as a birthday present:
At the moment his name is Birthday Monkey, but I'm open to suggestions for a better name.
Happy Birthday Munkey!! xx
28 April 2007
A Crafty Wench
I like craft. There's something very satisfying about making something.
Unfortunately, I'm not very good at it. I'm not very patient, and like every other aspect of my life, I'm not very neat.
So when I finally actuallyget my mum to help try really hard and finish something, I'm pretty darn proud. Like my patchwork quilt made from Japanese Kimono:
So the other night I was sitting around with my Ladies, and we were crocheting, and drinking wine, and watching Doctor Who. (and I wonder why I don't have a boyfriend...) I wasn't really crocheting anything in particular, just trying out some new stitches in rows. Then I started to do rounds, just for something different. And before I knew it, I'd made this:
Ladies and gentlemen, Mistake Bear.
Unfortunately, I'm not very good at it. I'm not very patient, and like every other aspect of my life, I'm not very neat.
So when I finally actually
So the other night I was sitting around with my Ladies, and we were crocheting, and drinking wine, and watching Doctor Who. (and I wonder why I don't have a boyfriend...) I wasn't really crocheting anything in particular, just trying out some new stitches in rows. Then I started to do rounds, just for something different. And before I knew it, I'd made this:
Ladies and gentlemen, Mistake Bear.
26 April 2007
22 April 2007
Saturday night with the parents
See if you can guess what movie we're watching... (hint: it was a kid's fantasy novel first)
Dad: Who's that guy?
Lili: Obi Wan Kenobe.
Mum: Jeremy Irons.
Lili: Aragorn.
Dad: Isn't the blonde one with the mullet Aragorn?
...
Mum: Wow. It really is like Star Wars, isn't it?
Lili: It's like Star Wars, starring Legolas.
Dad: But shit.
Lili: (nodding) But shit.
...
Mum: What's going on? Where is he now?
Lili: I don't know. Narnia?
...
Dad: Come on, the flying dragon is pretty cool.
Lili: Neverending storrryyyyyyyyy, aaaahahaaahahaaahahaaaaahahaa-
...
(the credits roll)
Lili: Well.
Dad: That was... terrible.
Mum: But short. It was short. An improvement on the book.
Lili: Is that Avril Lavigne singing the credits song?
(it is.)
Dad: Who's that guy?
Lili: Obi Wan Kenobe.
Mum: Jeremy Irons.
Lili: Aragorn.
Dad: Isn't the blonde one with the mullet Aragorn?
...
Mum: Wow. It really is like Star Wars, isn't it?
Lili: It's like Star Wars, starring Legolas.
Dad: But shit.
Lili: (nodding) But shit.
...
Mum: What's going on? Where is he now?
Lili: I don't know. Narnia?
...
Dad: Come on, the flying dragon is pretty cool.
Lili: Neverending storrryyyyyyyyy, aaaahahaaahahaaahahaaaaahahaa-
...
(the credits roll)
Lili: Well.
Dad: That was... terrible.
Mum: But short. It was short. An improvement on the book.
Lili: Is that Avril Lavigne singing the credits song?
(it is.)
21 April 2007
Popular
I just read this article in The Age, and as soon as I am wearing something other than pyjamas, I'm going out to find the book.
Was there a single YA author out there who was popular at school? Like, really, capital-P Popular? I can't really imagine it. I certainly wasn't.
I mean sure, I had friends. I wasn't ostracised. Not often, anyway. But I was bullied, a little. Teased, a little more (for having hairy legs in year 7, for being a messy eater in year 8, for not having a boyfriend, for being too smart). The subject of scornful looks and eye-rolling and secret whispers - teenage girls are awful.
I had insecurities - was I pretty? would I ever grow breasts? Was everyone noticing that mole on my cheek? Why didn't boys ever ask me out?
I had crushes on boys - but if or when I actually did talk to them, they were never as articulate or dashing as they were in my fervent, book-fuelled imagination. 14 year old boys are not really articulate, full stop. They also often smell bad. No wonder then, that I found myself falling for (and in a year-long relationship with) my best friend, a girl.
I didn't kiss a boy until Year 12, and then slowly things started to change. He was older than me, so I stopped only hanging out with other schoolgirls. I went to university, and suddenly reading a lot and being eclectic and not listening to Top 40 music was cool. It was like the definition of cool had suddenly been inverted.
I still wasn't Popular, though. But that was fine. I was beginning to realise the terrible, beautiful truth: Popular people are actually a bit Boring.
Of course at my Uni, to be Popular, you had to have a certain degree of what we will call Wankery. You had to do lots of Interpretive Dance (I staged a production of The Little Prince, instead). You had to make Experimental Films (I was more interested in narrative). You had to talk a lot about theorists and theories (actually, I did really like that bit).
Now - post-Uni, at the beginning of what I am a bit scared to call a Career - for perhaps the first time in my life, I am completely proud to be who I am, and I don't feel like I need to pretend to be anything I'm not. The people who love me do so because I'm me.
The lovely Kim Wilkins says this: "Everything that made me daggy and unpopular has turned out to be a blessing", and I couldn't agree more.
Back to being a teenager. Rjurik asked me the other day why I write. I answered that if I didn't I would go crazy. And because I want to make people THINK. Afterwards, I realised what I really meant to say was that I want to make people FEEL (and then think as a side-effect).
If he'd asked why I write YA, I might have said this: To make a connection with the Unpopular ones. To let them know that they're not alone, and that it gets better.
So much better.
Was there a single YA author out there who was popular at school? Like, really, capital-P Popular? I can't really imagine it. I certainly wasn't.
I mean sure, I had friends. I wasn't ostracised. Not often, anyway. But I was bullied, a little. Teased, a little more (for having hairy legs in year 7, for being a messy eater in year 8, for not having a boyfriend, for being too smart). The subject of scornful looks and eye-rolling and secret whispers - teenage girls are awful.
I had insecurities - was I pretty? would I ever grow breasts? Was everyone noticing that mole on my cheek? Why didn't boys ever ask me out?
I had crushes on boys - but if or when I actually did talk to them, they were never as articulate or dashing as they were in my fervent, book-fuelled imagination. 14 year old boys are not really articulate, full stop. They also often smell bad. No wonder then, that I found myself falling for (and in a year-long relationship with) my best friend, a girl.
I didn't kiss a boy until Year 12, and then slowly things started to change. He was older than me, so I stopped only hanging out with other schoolgirls. I went to university, and suddenly reading a lot and being eclectic and not listening to Top 40 music was cool. It was like the definition of cool had suddenly been inverted.
I still wasn't Popular, though. But that was fine. I was beginning to realise the terrible, beautiful truth: Popular people are actually a bit Boring.
Of course at my Uni, to be Popular, you had to have a certain degree of what we will call Wankery. You had to do lots of Interpretive Dance (I staged a production of The Little Prince, instead). You had to make Experimental Films (I was more interested in narrative). You had to talk a lot about theorists and theories (actually, I did really like that bit).
Now - post-Uni, at the beginning of what I am a bit scared to call a Career - for perhaps the first time in my life, I am completely proud to be who I am, and I don't feel like I need to pretend to be anything I'm not. The people who love me do so because I'm me.
The lovely Kim Wilkins says this: "Everything that made me daggy and unpopular has turned out to be a blessing", and I couldn't agree more.
Back to being a teenager. Rjurik asked me the other day why I write. I answered that if I didn't I would go crazy. And because I want to make people THINK. Afterwards, I realised what I really meant to say was that I want to make people FEEL (and then think as a side-effect).
If he'd asked why I write YA, I might have said this: To make a connection with the Unpopular ones. To let them know that they're not alone, and that it gets better.
So much better.
16 April 2007
Harold Pinter, eat your heart out.
INT WEDDING RECEPTION, NIGHT
LILI, CAROLE, GRANDMA, GRANDPA, AUNTY PEG and SOME RANDOM WOMAN sit eating profiteroles around a wedding reception table in Adelaide. The RANDOM WOMAN is singing along to Celine Dion. In the background, people are dancing.
In this scene, nobody is called by their correct name. Possible names to use are Lili (granddaughter), Carole (daughter), Raylee (other granddaughter), Rita (groom's first wife, or Carole and Lili's puppy), Kath (bride), Lingi (a dog that died before I was born).
Grandpa: (heavy working class British accent) It were on Ship Street.
Grandma: Here we go again.
Aunty Peg: No, it were on Luvane Road.
Grandpa: Ship Street. It were on Ship Street.
Aunty Peg: No, it were in that house with the chimney that smoked. It were Luvane Road.
Grandpa: Ship Street. I was workin' at the Academy.
Grandma: No, Jack. You were working at the mental hospital.
Lili: You worked at a MENTAL HOSPITAL?
Carole: I used to love it when you played in the mental hospital's cricket team, Dad.
Grandpa: I didn't work in the mental hospital til after the war. This was before the war, it were in Ship Street.
Aunty Peg: Luvane Road.
Lili: Can we please go back to the mental hospital?
Random Woman: "Cause I'm your lay-deeeeeeeeeeeh, and you are my maaaa-aaaa-aaa-aaan!"
Grandpa: We were so poor then, we lived in sackcloth and ashes.
Lili: Never mind, I'm getting a pretty good idea anyway.
Grandma: Get Li-Ri-Ka-Carole to look it up, Jack. She has The Google.
Carole: It's just 'Google', mum.
Aunty Peg: Maybe it wasn't at Luvane Road. Maybe it was at the Rose and Crown.
Grandpa: It were at Ship Street!
Random Woman: "with the power of Loooo-ooooo-ooooo-ooove..."
(the SONG finishes. the RANDOM WOMAN looks disappointed, but busies herself with a profiterole)
Aunty Peg: The ceremony was nice, wasn't it?
Carole: I remember when Brian was just a cherubic little boy.
Grandpa: When I were a lad... I used to ride my pushbike... all the way... ... ...
Aunty Peg: (to RANDOM WOMAN) Cherubic? What's that then?
Random Woman: (reassuringly) I think she meant cherubISH.
Grandpa: And there were pigs in the kitchen... And mud up to your ears... And chickens... ... ...
(another song starts)
Lili: No. Oh, no.
The RANDOM WOMAN abandons the profiterole, and makes for the dance floor.
Carole: Is that the macarena?
Lili: (bangs head on table) No. They are not going to dance to that.
Grandma: I thought it was the nutbush.
Lili: It's the chicken dance.
BLACKOUT.
LILI, CAROLE, GRANDMA, GRANDPA, AUNTY PEG and SOME RANDOM WOMAN sit eating profiteroles around a wedding reception table in Adelaide. The RANDOM WOMAN is singing along to Celine Dion. In the background, people are dancing.
In this scene, nobody is called by their correct name. Possible names to use are Lili (granddaughter), Carole (daughter), Raylee (other granddaughter), Rita (groom's first wife, or Carole and Lili's puppy), Kath (bride), Lingi (a dog that died before I was born).
Grandpa: (heavy working class British accent) It were on Ship Street.
Grandma: Here we go again.
Aunty Peg: No, it were on Luvane Road.
Grandpa: Ship Street. It were on Ship Street.
Aunty Peg: No, it were in that house with the chimney that smoked. It were Luvane Road.
Grandpa: Ship Street. I was workin' at the Academy.
Grandma: No, Jack. You were working at the mental hospital.
Lili: You worked at a MENTAL HOSPITAL?
Carole: I used to love it when you played in the mental hospital's cricket team, Dad.
Grandpa: I didn't work in the mental hospital til after the war. This was before the war, it were in Ship Street.
Aunty Peg: Luvane Road.
Lili: Can we please go back to the mental hospital?
Random Woman: "Cause I'm your lay-deeeeeeeeeeeh, and you are my maaaa-aaaa-aaa-aaan!"
Grandpa: We were so poor then, we lived in sackcloth and ashes.
Lili: Never mind, I'm getting a pretty good idea anyway.
Grandma: Get Li-Ri-Ka-Carole to look it up, Jack. She has The Google.
Carole: It's just 'Google', mum.
Aunty Peg: Maybe it wasn't at Luvane Road. Maybe it was at the Rose and Crown.
Grandpa: It were at Ship Street!
Random Woman: "with the power of Loooo-ooooo-ooooo-ooove..."
(the SONG finishes. the RANDOM WOMAN looks disappointed, but busies herself with a profiterole)
Aunty Peg: The ceremony was nice, wasn't it?
Carole: I remember when Brian was just a cherubic little boy.
Grandpa: When I were a lad... I used to ride my pushbike... all the way... ... ...
Aunty Peg: (to RANDOM WOMAN) Cherubic? What's that then?
Random Woman: (reassuringly) I think she meant cherubISH.
Grandpa: And there were pigs in the kitchen... And mud up to your ears... And chickens... ... ...
(another song starts)
Lili: No. Oh, no.
The RANDOM WOMAN abandons the profiterole, and makes for the dance floor.
Carole: Is that the macarena?
Lili: (bangs head on table) No. They are not going to dance to that.
Grandma: I thought it was the nutbush.
Lili: It's the chicken dance.
BLACKOUT.
Kurt Vonnegut's Eight Rules of Writing Fiction
1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
(I found this at Jane Espenson's blog)
(she found it here: Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons 1999), p. 9-10)
(bye, Kurt.)
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
(I found this at Jane Espenson's blog)
(she found it here: Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons 1999), p. 9-10)
(bye, Kurt.)
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