Kiama Interlude

I am about to complete a mentorship with bestselling author Gabbie Stroud who has been tremendously encouraging of all my writing projects.  We put the mentorship on hold for a few weeks as it suited both of our situations.  The reason Gabbie was finding it hard to meet with me was due to the launch of her debut adult fiction novel, the things that matter most, and her book tour, travelling all over the place spruiking her novel.  

The opportunity to meet Gabbie in person and sit in one of her author talks could not be passed up. I made the trek to Kiama hoping to also catch the sunset over the ocean with some fish and chips for tea (sadly, this did not evenutuate; the traffic was awful).  

I had not read the book beforehand, wanting to savour it when my life was a bit less hectic.  I started it on the weekend and was so glad I did.  I think it is just what my hectic life needs at the moment.

Anyway, back to Gabbie’s talk.  She spoke very well, thanks, in part, at least, to the great questions asked by host and fellow author, Ryan Butta.  His reading had picqued his interest in the themes Gabbie had aimed for her readers engage with.  Most tantalising was the idea education is a bridge to better things but what is underneath the bridge cannot be ignored.  Those issues need a solution which will help shorten the gap the bridge needs to span.  

Gabbie, last tip was: if you want a book made into a TV show, buy the book. I bought another copy and now I’ve started reading it I’ll likely buy a few more.  

Thankfully, Gabbie had lots of photos taken.  

Literary Morning Tea

I came  across a unique opportunity to hear from two authors with recently released books set in the Southern Highlands.  Joan Sauer’s, Echo Lake, incorporates real locations into the narrative whilst Lucy Campbell’s, Lowbridge, gives fictional names to real locations included in the storyline.  

I went to the morning tea held by The Bookshop Bowral at the lovely Centennial Vineyards Restaurant excited to hear from two authors about their mystery novels and writing life.  I was not disappointed.

I was about halfway through reading Echo Lake whilst Lowbridge had only been released the previous week.  Joan Sauers is a writer who moved to the Highlands with her daughter’s family during the pandemic.  She began writing Echo Lake (which is not a real place) during her time there and had commenced writing the second novel at the time of the Author Talk.  She has planned for Echo Lake to be the first in a series featuring Rose McHugh.  Rose moves from Sydney to her new home near Berrima at the beginning of the novel and sets about exploring the Highlands, visiting places familiar to me which was lovely to read. Interestingly, Sauers, who is a screenwriter, planned the novel out as if writing a screenplay.  She is in talks to have in made into a TV series.  Here’s hoping!

Lucy Campbell’s book is still on my To Be Read pile (it’s a big pile).  I’m saving it up.  It is a stand alone novel with two timelines exploring the mystery of a teenager’s disappearance in the late 80s.  The discovery of the unsolved mystery gives Katherine Ashworth something to focus on during a difficult time in her life. Readers claim the settings are recognisable if you are familiar with the Highlands.  Campbell did not plan to set the novel in the Highlands (albeit fictionally), realising as she wrote that that is what she had done.  

During the discussion interesting questions about first and third person made me think on that a bit more.  Furthermore, Australian author Michael Robotham‘s Joe O’Loughlin series was mentioned as being worth a read.  These had been recommended to me by a friend several years ago and I have now begun reading them.  There are nine books in the series and I am up to number 7; it seems number 9 might be the last).  Interestingly, books 1 to 6 featured first person narratives from psychologist Joe or his retired detective friend, Vincent Ruiz (in books 2 and 5).  Book 6 is written in the third person from Joe, Marnie and Vincent’s perspectives.  It was quite a challenge for me to adjust to this alteration at first.

Unfortunately, I did not take any photos on the day.  My reticent nature will need to be more forthright at such events in the future.

Any recommendations for books I can add to my pile are gratefully received.

A ‘proper’ writer

It has been a busy year, so far.  I keep forgetting how far into the year we are and am regularly surprised to realise it’s May or July or, now, almost August.  

My writing journey has been flying over the last six weeks or so as I have explored more seriously the reality of being a ‘proper’ writer.  One of the most important things I have learnt over this time is if I want to be a writer, I have to do some writing.  

I have just started uni (again – why do I do this to myself?) and school resumed last week for Term 3.  Consequently, the time I have had to do whatever I want – read, write, clean a cupboard, go to the beach, stay up late bingeing TV – is now much more restricted.  So, as I am in the process of developing a regular writing practice my challenge is learning how to do this.  For me, it means writing every day, even if I I’m too tired or very busy or can’t think of what to write.  

I have learnt over the last fortnight to write about what I want to write about at any given time.  Ideally, one day I will have a book deal (wouldn’t that be lovely?) and I may need to write about what I do not feel like writing about to meet the deadline.  But, for now I can blog, think about a short story, edit a picture book, work on my life story, have a go at my family saga, etc.  

I also have to write every single day. Every. Single. One.  

Now, it’s like any new habit we want to engage in – healthier eating, exercising everyday, going to bed earlier – or skill we want to learn – playing the piano, bending a soccer ball, sewing – sometimes we fail.  I have failed this week.  I had high hopes and plans.  I bargained with myself.  Well, you did write the blog post for your uni assignment? I did meet with an author and talk about writing! At the end of the week, though, I had not written for pleasure every day.

But, failure is part of the journey!  And if I try again the next day and the next or the one after that then is it failure or is it perseverance?

Movie Review – Friends with Kids

WARNING: contains spoilers

I like going to the movies and last year had little opportunity to do so.  I was very, very busy and at my local cinema they have an annoying tendency to not show things that I like to see.  They veer more towards the strange science fiction or alien invasion movies. 

During my summer holidays I was able to catch up on my movie viewing.  Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how one sees it, the video shop had few options I liked.  This is how I ended up taking home Friends with Kids.  I had heard a movie review of this movie and it was not glowing. 

The original review I heard was largely accurate.  The movie does not portray relationships positively.  Sex and physical appearance are important elements to Jason (Adam Scott), the male protagonist.  The decision he and his best friend, Julie (Jennifer Westfeldt) make, to have a child together whilst avoiding the challenges children present to relationships, is actually made in a realistic fashion.  It is plausible, especially in our culture.  It highlights the selfish ideology we humans tend to have.  We are the most important people in our world’s and our happiness and fulfilment is the most important thing for us to worry about.  It does not matter who else is hurt or damaged in the process.   

The movie was billed as a romantic comedy.  There was very little comedy and even less romance.  Jason and Julie’s friends who are married with kids provide the only ‘polite’  humour in the movie as they struggle to raise their kids and maintain the rest of their lives.  Much of the other humour is crass or toilet-like. 

It will be, I hope, no surprise to anyone that Jason and Julie end up together at the end of the movie.  Jason is the last to come to the realisation that he wants to be with Julie and their son, Joe.  The last to realise, thanks to his now separated friend, that the romance is in the ongoing struggle of the relationship and the decision of the couple to continue in the relationship even when things are hard. 

This movie was hard to watch.  It was not very funny; it was not very romantic.  It was angst-ridden and traumatic.  It was, though, an accurate portrayal, in my opinion, of the state of society.  All around us people are trying to find “the one”, yet they spent much of their time searching making decisions that ultimately negatively impact their future relationship.  Decisions that end in heartbreak and disappointment all in the belief that “the one” will ensure their happiness.

It is hard to separate ourselves from similar beliefs.  I would like someone to share my life with, to come home to, to answer my self-talk rationally.  I like to think God has a husband planned for me.  Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t.  Either way, my happiness is not dependent on a relationship that will, in this sinful, fallen world, disappoint me.  If God does have a husband planned for me he will not be perfect, neither will I.  Thankfully, my relationship with Jesus is not like that.  He will not disappoint me.  He will romance me all the days of my life.

Is there something wrong with me?

So, it seems, perhaps, I am even less emotional than I thought I was. My sister posted on Facebook yesterday as it was our Mum’s birthday. Many people commented and said they had been thinking of her and so on.

I, on the other hand, did not think about her or the fact that it was her birthday much at all. Does this make me unfeeling or insensitive or hard? I like to tell myself it is just like any other day and she cannot be more gone just because it is her birthday. I think, for me, it really is like any other day. She is not here, she will not be, no matter how much I wish she was or think about what it would be like if she was.

Does this make me strange or odd or weird? I think in many ways it makes me feel strange and odd and weird. The fact that my sister had posted and so many others commented made me cry because I am so not like that. I love the idea of sentimentality but am not really very sentimental at all. I am realistic. The world is not a nice place. It is filled with people who are not nice and unnice things happen all the time.

I think my view of this reality is somewhat crippling. It causes me to fail to see the beauty around me, the miracles of new life and flowers and birds singing, the wonderful feeling of sunshine and the smell of rain. I see these things but do not enjoy them as God intended. This is largely due to the Fall. Sin has entered the world and it is not how it was meant to be.

I think as well though, that my mother significantly shaped me. This is not surprising but does mean I am a particular way due to her influence. Her influence was not the same on me as it was on other members of my family or her friends. It is though, a real and lasting influence I need to acknowledge.

My Mum had a hard life. She was brought to Australia from Scotland as a seven year old. She did not want to come and spent much of her life wishing she was back in Scotland. Being an immigrant in the 50s was not easy. It is still not easy. Probably, if you were a non-British immigrant life was much, much harder for you but, even if you were British life was different. For my mother’s family it meant a significant step down socially. They lived, initially, in a poorer area of Sydney where my grandfather was a chemist. Eventually, they did very well owning a chemist shop and a rather nice house close to the inner city.

My Mum was subjected to teasing and unkindness because she was different – she had a funny accent and was, as one memorable girl said, “a tidy little bugger”. She went to several schools and struggled to make friends. I am glad to say she eventually made some excellent friends whom she kept in contact with until she died.

My uncle thrived after the move to Australia. At 16, he had been included in the discussions regarding the move to Australia. He was able to attend Sydney University and became a very well-respected doctor. Family lore, has me believe this would have been impossible back in Glasgow.

During the time Mum was raised girls (not all of them, but pretty much all of them) did not have careers. My Mum wanted to be a nurse. Her Dad, who she loved dearly, said it was a waste of time as she was only going to get married and have children (or words to that effect). Her dream quashed, she left school and trained to be a secretary. Shortly after this my grandfather had a massive heart attack and died. Leaving his family, not by choice mind you, shortly after the tenth anniversary of their arrival.

My Mum did get married but life was not the dream it had been. Her experiences as a child very much shaped her character. There were wonderful things about her. She had the most tremendous laugh – all snorty and noisy. She deeply cared about the people she knew. She was brilliant with dogs – they loved her. She could whistle with a gumleaf. She made excellent macaroni cheese. She worked very hard and enjoyed sharing her life with her colleagues. She was generous and thoughtful and cheerful. She never once asked, “Why me?” She was glad it was her (with the cancer) and not one of her girls.

There are many things about my Mum I would like to reflect. I am unable to see clearly what I do reflect but I do know that I tend to reflect it in a particular way. As a child I was “bullied” at school. At the time it felt like bullying but, in retrospect, was just an unfortunate set of circumstances which was not dealt with very well. My Mum, due largely I believe to her own school experiences, kind of told me to get on with it. She didn’t actually say that but there was a definite message of “Life’s not fair”. I feel she really didn’t know how else to help me come to terms with the situation and, I’m not sure I would have any better answers for a child of mine.

The way I reflect my Mum is to be tough and impenetrable and stoic. People cannot hurt me as I will not let them. Situations cannot hurt me as worse things could happen. I find it hard to be compassionate as I do not feel things the way others seem to. I take things as they are and am not surprised that they are pretty crappy. Thus, I do not comprehend the way others might feel about situations they are in or are witnessing on the news or something.

To be honest, I do not actually know what I would do if something actually awful happened to me. I do not know how I would cope if I was diagnosed with cancer. I like to think I would be like my Mum. But, aside from her death, which I had much time to prepare for (and crappy things do happen in this world), nothing really bad has ever happened to me, myself.

Things happen around me and sometimes I feel as if I should ‘feel’ them more than I do. I suppose, here, is where I am most like my Mum. Things happen. There are many things in the world I can control and have recently admitted that maybe the things I can control are the things I do not worry about. There are also many things I cannot control and life goes on anyway. I cannot control what other drivers on the roads will do. I cannot control what the weather will be like. I cannot control the due dates of assignments. I CAN control my understanding of God as sovereign and all-knowing. I cannot know what he has planned BUT, I can know, whatever it is, it will be excellent beyond my imagining even if that doesn’t happen this side of Heaven.