Life In A Pink Fibro

Modern dilemma: Did I do the wrong thing?

2012-02-09T11:12:00.004+11:00

This morning as I left the school after drop-off, swinging my keys and whistling because Mr5 had gone in like a dream, a worried little face approached me. "Excuse me," he wobbled, "what's the time?"

It was 9.10am.

"Are you waiting for the bus?" I asked.

"Yes, number four," he said. "I've been here about 25 minutes."

There is one bus that often runs late. It disgorges its kids after the bell at the primary school and I see high school kids getting more and more anxious waiting for it. I'd never seen this guy before, so surmised he was year 7. He was clearly worried.

So was I. The bus had never been this late before. I was thinking he'd manage to miss it.

I found myself in a dilemma. The mother in me wanted to put him in my car and drive him to school, taking the worried look off his face, and ensuring that he didn't stand at that bus stop all day.

But I was torn. The mother in me also didn't want to put him in the position of having to decide whether to accept a ride with a stranger. No matter how nice and well-meaning I was. Because the next stranger might not be so nice or well-meaning.

We stood and looked at each other. He wanted me to fix it for him, somehow. I wanted to fix it for him, somehow. But modern times have made it very bloody difficult to be charitable. Under normal circumstances, I would have whipped out my phone and rung his mum. But, of course, today of all days, I'd left my phone plugged into the wall, charging merrily, of no use to anyone.

"Do you live nearby?" I asked. He did. Around the corner.

"Maybe give it five more minutes and then pop home again," I said. I was relieved when he nodded, not saying 'oh, there's no-one there'. We looked at each other for another long moment before I smiled, wished him luck and walked away. Feeling like a heel.

I drove around the corner and was detoured by a policeman (thanks to an emergency situation), which brought me driving back around the block past my anxious little friend. I considered stopping and telling the policeman about him. What would I say? I kept driving. On the way back around, he saw me and gave me a little wave. I drove away. Feeling like a heel.

So tell me. Did I do the wrong thing? Should I have driven him to school to wipe the anxious look off his face? I kept thinking of Daniel Morcombe, who waited for a bus that never came. I wondered what I would have wanted for my own boys. Whom I have schooled over and over to never get in a car with a stranger. No matter how nice and well-meaning.

What would you have done?

[image: I love this illustration by NanLawson/etsy - sums up how we both felt]

Scaling a mountain

2012-02-07T22:06:00.000+11:00

I've been working on the edits for my novel. Slowly going through, moving a mass of words around. Putting all that thinking into action. And you know what? It feels pretty good. Now that I've actually started, I'm remembering that I was the person who wrote the book in the first place. Of course I can make changes to make it better!

I'm about 100 pages in at the moment. Still in the foothills, with an enormous climb ahead of me. The big changes are still ahead, waiting, looming, but my travels through the foothills are helping me to set up a good base for when that moment arrives.

I think it's going to be okay. At least until I find myself hanging out over a precipice with no safety net and nothing between me and a very thin plot line (not that this will happen, of course... no way).

Starting really is the best cure for fear. You can't focus on the anxiety while you're trying to flesh out a character or build a setting.

All will be well. Just as long as I keep climbing - and don't look down.

[image: mountain notebook by LittleAlexander/Etsy]

The woman who saved my Sunday*

2012-02-05T22:40:00.001+11:00

The Builder and I have been living under a lucky star. Right up until last Friday. When it all came crashing down. Under a pile of books. Books that needed to be covered. In contact. By Monday.

The news was broken to me by Mr8. "Take this Mum," he said, handing me his school bag in the pouring rain. "It's really heavy."

I picked it up, wondering how a lunchbox, a water bottle and an empty reader bag had suddenly gained weight.

"Good grief!" I said. "What's in here?"

"All my books," he said, nonchalantly. "They need to be covered. In contact. Can we get some with pictures on it?"

My mind flashed back to our last experience with contact. Two textbooks in kindy. Two textbooks that had taken The Builder about three hours (and not a small amount of swearing) to cover in contact. Without pictures.

"Sure," I said. "I'll give them to Dad."

It must be said that The Builder is often lumbered with any task that requires precision. Mostly because he is a precise kind of guy. Who likes things done precisely. I, on the other hand, tend to take the 'they're not marking us down for air bubbles' approach, which may, in unkind terms, be described as, er, slapdash.

"There are books to cover," I mentioned that night over a glass of wine. "Nine, to be precise." He rolled his eyes. "I'll start tomorrow," he said. "No point in leaving it to the last minute."

"Er, you'll have to wait until I buy the contact. With pictures," I responded. He rolled his eyes.

Slap dash.

The next afternoon, as he sat at one end of the dining table armed with four rolls of contact (yes, pictures, see above), scissors, a ruler and a teatowel (for 'smoothing'), I asked him if he wanted me to Google a You Tube tutorial on how to cover books. He rolled his eyes (seriously, can't wait for the teenage years around here), muttered something about not needing instructions, and proceeded.

Ninety minutes later, he went out for a bike ride. Having covered three books. He had tried many methods during that period. The hanging-book-off-side-of-table method. The call-in-the-wife-to-hold-contact method (I was banished soon after for not preventing air bubbles). The call-the-wife-in-to-hold-the-book method (I was banished soon after for not preventing air bubbles). Every time I looked over, he was in a new position, trying something new.

It wasn't pretty.

This afternoon, while he was otherwise engaged, I thought I'd have a go. I knew that I ran the risk of, gasp, air bubbles, but I also wanted to go to the beach that afternoon and figured that any progress I made got us closer. Being a girl who likes instructions, I Googled 'How to cover a book in contact' and found my saviour.

Grace at Living Footprints has created a seven minute video on how to do the job. Seven minutes? If she could manage the whole process in that time, then, even allowing for the fact that Jamie Oliver's 30-Minute Meals take me at least one hour, I was going to knock the books over before The Builder got home. I watched her video and loved her even more for the fact that the first two minutes and thirty seconds are taken up with gathering tools, cutting out paper, and trying to separate the damn contact from the backing paper.

Video complete, I sat down at the table and had a book covered in 15 minutes. Yes, there was a crease (tiny, really, hardly noticeable at all), but by the time I'd done my second, I was air-bubble-free! Yes!

When The Builder came home, I was still in my pyjamas at 2.30pm, but I had a neat pile of books ready to go. And two little boys ready to go to the beach.

Win/win.

The only downside of the whole arrangement? It appears that I have created myself a job. The Builder is so far resisting efforts to watch Grace's excellent how-to video... and so the book covering role is now mine. Unlike Grace, however, I will not be inviting you all to send your books round to the Fibro for me to cover. My love affair with her method does not extend that far.

Have you covered school books this year? Which method do you favour?

*I was going to call this The Woman Who Saved My Sunday (and my marriage), but I thought that might be overly dramatic.

The time when Lisa Wilkinson mentioned my name (on the tele)

2012-02-02T23:08:00.002+11:00

Today was an exciting day. My name was on the tele. In full. Allison Tait. Oh, my co-author Kate Sykes did a brilliant three minutes on television, sharing all her expertise and the wonder of our book, Career Mums, with the audience of Today. I was very proud.

Then Lisa Wilkinson mentioned my name. On the tele.

It was quite a thrill.

You can watch the whole thing, including the name drop, right here:

http://video.au.msn.com/watch/video/mums-back-to-work/xq8yvzz

Kate is very good. A natural on the tele. Much like my name.

PS: I wanted to do that cool embedding thing, but it seems this is not possible if it's not a You Tube video. Or maybe it's just not possible if you are me...

Big shoes, big shorts, big hat... big boy

2012-01-31T22:46:00.001+11:00

Today Mr5 started school. My baby has morphed into a Big Boy. Big shoes, big shorts, big hat.

He has not talked about it much over the holidays. No desire to try on the school uniform. A 'not happy Jan' face when we bought the school shoes. No particular interest to identify an A from a B from a C. (His favourite letter is still L. I suspect it always will be.)

This morning I went to wake him for his Big Boy breakfast. He rolled over, warm and sleepy. "Do you know what day it is, Mum?" What day? "It's my first day at school Mum," he said, leaping out of bed. Ready to go.

Later, as he endured the 1500th coaxing to 'look at the camera, smile for Mummy, don't scrunch your nose', weighed down by the tortoise shell of his enormous backpack, jumping up and down to test his shoes, I wondered if I was ready to let him go.

At school, The Builder and I helped him put his bag away. We found his table where, to his delight, he is seated with four friends and a 'new guy'. And then he turned to us: "You can go now." A kiss and it was all over.

I picked him up this afternoon, almost unable to pick him from the line-up of little boys. One thing a uniform does is make a person blend in, right? When he spotted me, waiting to collect him, he beamed. Suddenly he stood out like a beacon.

Big shoes, big shorts, big hat, big smile. My little Big Boy.

Sigh.

The dress-up box

2012-01-29T21:24:00.001+11:00

With Mr5 out of the house for a few hours today, I decided that the last day of the holidays was the perfect time for an assault on his room. And I do mean assault.

It is impossible to remove any item from Mr5's room while he is on the premises. He shows a marked tendency toward the Family Hoarding gene, and clings like a barnacle to anything - and I do mean anything - that I might decide is surplus to needs. He LOVES those chocolate wrappers and is "collecting them to make Mr8 an Invisibility cloak". He NEEDS that wooden train set, despite not having looked at it for three years.

So I must sneak through under my own Invisibility cloak while he is otherwise engaged.

I really wanted to do it today. I wanted to clear his shelves, air the cobwebs, remove the old, and give him a clear, uncluttered space in which to begin his schooling life (on Tuesday). So I put aside the aforementioned train, the fake food and fake picnic set, several books, outgrown clothes, any variation of Wiggles puzzles (or, in fact, anything Wiggles, him being 'too big for them now Mum')... all ready to go to a young friend of ours who will love them too.

And then I got to the dress-up box.

Our dress-up box is like a perfect time capsule of the boys' interests over the years. The doctor's kit and cool little white coat. The fireman suit with reflective strips. The fireman helmet that makes a whiney, siren noise. The Spiderman suits, the Superman suit (with attached cape), the cracking Ninja Turtles suit (complete with shell). Harry Potter robes, wands, glasses (all bent).

But it's the additional stuff that I love. The baby wraps that can be capes, or togas, or ghost outfits. The five different gloves that serve as Super Whatevers, or Ninja whatevers, or medical protection. The lanyards from various conferences. The scarves that can be utility belts, or Ninja wraps, or Knightly garb. The swords of assorted length, colour and degradation. And the hats - so many hats! Hard hats, police hats, beanies, helmets.

My boys love dressing up and there is nothing they like better than ferreting about and creating the perfect outfit. An outfit that may make no sense to outside eyes, but to them, turns them into The Masked Avenger, or Sir Whosiwhatsit.

The dress-up box I left alone. There'll be time enough to sort through that. But for now, it's feeding their imaginations. It pays its way.

Do your kids have a dress-up box? What story does it tell about them? And what do you think are the essentials for a great dress-up box?

Fibro Q&A: On becoming a cookbook writer (blog to book)

2012-01-27T10:17:00.000+11:00

Sandra Reynolds won the equivalent of the publishing lottery when she received a phone call, out of the blue, from Penguin about turning her blog, The $120 Food Challenge, into a fully fledged cookbook. Seriously, who does that happen to? Even more remarkable is the fact that Sandra began her blog after she walked out on her job after a terrible day and ended up trying to feed her family on the two $60 food vouchers that the Salvation Army had give her for assistance.

I've always wondered how cookbooks are written. Do they make allowances for the fact that the amateur cook might leave half her tablespoon of butter stuck to the spoon? Why do I always end up with 16 muffins when I'm supposed to have 20, and 25 biscuits when I'm supposed to have 18? The big questions.

With Sandra, I also wondered about the process of going from daily blog writer to 'enormous project' book writer. You know me. When I wonder, I do my best to drag that person into the Fibro to ask them. Fortunately, Sandra was happy to be dragged and she stayed for a cup of tea and a chat. A long chat. About cooking, writing, blogging, social media and the all-important Dubbo Test. So get your own cuppa before you begin...

Yours is the quintessential blog fairytale - publisher spots blog, offers book contract. Is that actually how it happened?
Sandra Reynolds: "Yes and no. Not once did I ever think strategically about this. I was responding to whatever each day brought me. I started the blog after a conversation on the Mamamia website. I was complaining about how I was doing that week [feeding my family with food vouchers], and someone said, 'You could start a blog about this'. I was so clueless I actually Googled 'how to start a blog' and then followed the links. My daughter had to show me how to upload a photo. I spent the rest of the day emptying the contents of my head, thinking it would be nice if I could get 1000 hits on my blog in the first month. I got 8000 in the first fortnight.

"I settled into a daily pattern of writing and photographing the evening meal. That, and job-seeking was my daily routine, and I was content with that. I've never advertised on my blog and, over the two years, have done only a handful of sponsored posts. All my blog traffic is by word of mouth. At the same time the blog was hitting its straps, my personal life was taking a battering when my father died after a long illness. The day after his funeral, just three months after starting the blog, I got an email from Channel 7's Today Tonight, requesting an interview.

"I postponed, due to bereavement, which also gave me time to think about my answer. I was terrified of being portrayed poorly. It was the first time I began to think of myself as a brand, or in terms of public image, and it crystallised my thoughts about it. After talking with everyone I could think of who might be able to offer me professional advice (surrounding yourself with mentors is one business strategy I stumbled across), I said yes.

"The story went to air on a Monday night, and I watched it through my fingers, breathing a deep sigh of relief that it was a good representation of me and my story, and I had come across as a sensible person instead of someone with a gimmick. I got 125,000 hits on the blog in the next 36 hours.

"The next morning, the phone rang. It was Julie Gibbs, the managing editor of Penguin books, who told me that she was impressed not just by what I was doing, but by who I was - my brand. She offered me a deal right there. All before my second cup of tea that morning.

"I didn't have a book outline or even know what to put in. I didn't have an agent. I don't know if the deal was a good one or not. All I knew was that my intuition was screaming at me to say yes. I've never regretted it. Penguin are simply the best in the business for cookbook writers. I have been well looked after and mentored. But I'm under no illusion that it's a business deal and I have to uphold my part in that business arrangement."

Do you spend a lot of time on social media? Do you think that's important for anyone hoping to snag a book deal?
SR: "I started a Facebook Page for The $120 Food Challenge about two months after I started the blog and it now has 5,500 followers with 20-30 people joining each week. My Twitter account started about a month after that. I have all three forums (blog, FB, Twitter) going about 10-15 hours a day, every day. I don't have a smartphone or tablet, just a lap top, so I don't tweet when I'm away from my desk.

"My Facebook page has been the best investment in garnering an audience for ideas and suggestions. I'll often begin a conversation by posing a query, or making a comment, and frequently a topic there will turn up as a 'How To' recipe on the blog. It's a very dynamic forum. Twitter, on the other hand, has been invaluable for professional networking and making friends with people you want to align your brand with. It's also brilliant for self-promotion or for recording your official response to something as a brand. My tweet stream is a chaotic mix of personal tweets to friends and promoting blog and book, with a side order of chatting with chefs and cooks around the world.

"Again, I don't think strategically about social media in terms of snagging a book deal, but that probably means I'm disingenuous. The reality is that publishers are looking for content from as many different areas as possible. It's silly to ignore the power of social media for the audience it can bring you, particularly if you are targetting people (who will read your book) who are technically savvy, and have strong social media literacy, such as 18-40 year olds. There are dozens of published authors who have built their brand and reached their target audience through just using social media, then used their writing skills to expand it into the long form of a book.

"Good writing is good writing and publishers will see that. The traffic or demographics you can bring to your book deal are invaluable."

Did you develop your own recipes for the cookbook? Do you have a background in that? How much do you make allowances for the experience or inexperience of the home cook?
SR: "I don't have any background at all as a chef or professional cook. I have always enjoyed cooking and have learnt through trial-and-error like everyone else. There are some basic cooking skills that I rely on that form the basis of every recipe. I stick to what I know and make no claims to haute cuisine - my dishes are very simple and very orientated to a mid-week family meal.

"So when I get an idea for a recipe, I write down all that I know and make an educated guess as to what flavours it could be combined with, what cooking processes it would respond to, and then I test it. Only then do I photograph and post it. Sometimes recipes are trialled several times until I get it right. All recipes have to pass the Dubbo Test, meaning ingredients are readily available in regional areas.

"I'm a teacher by training, and spent 20 years teaching adults by breaking down complex tasks into their simplest forms, which is the essence of all good recipe writing. A good recipe MUST be unambiguous, clearly set down. I intentionally write for those people who may feel less than confident about their skills, just in case. You can't assume that they will know what you mean if you use a technical term."

I know frugality is an important part of your message and the book - do you think that it gave you a point of difference that allowed you to stand out in a crowded blogging market?
SR: "The cooking and budgeting came first, by at least two decades. There is nothing new to anything that I advise. My mother and her generation all nod approvingly at the budgeting advice I give - to them, it's second nature. However, there has been a huge disconnect to that information in the last 20 years. A generation of cooks are relying on pre-processed, ready-made meals, simple heat-and-eat dinners - and they really struggle when their backs are to the wall financially. I thought everyone knew how to set a household budget and make from scratch, even if they didn't always do so. Again, disingenuous.

"With no strategy in mind, I didn't look at the crowded cookbook/celebrity chef market and spot a point of difference. I simply wrote about what I knew. As it turned out, the single best thing I ever did was simply being honest with my readers. This is who I am. These are my circumstances. This is what I know. Any good writer will tell you that every good story starts with those three pillars.

"One crucial point of different - I HATE the word frugal. I find it a measly, negative word and it taps into the feeling of helplessness that people feel. A fundamental point I make is about doing it with a little flair, some dignity, a bit of self-deprecating humour and inviting people - metaphorically - to come to the table and share. Psychologically, it makes a huge difference to people's crisis management. It gives them encouragement. It implies generosity. I love that."

How different was pulling the book together to putting out a regular blog?
SR: "I wrote every day doing the blog, but as soon as I had signed the deal, my efforts to write the book fell into a massive slump. I had writer's block for about two months. I was side-tracked by blog traffic and commentary, wasted hours and hours doing nothing.

"I solved this problem by heading to my local library every day. A simple change of setting strangely gave me focus. I would sit for four hours each morning and write a couple of recipes every day. In the end, the recipe compilation came together in about four months. The front section of the book, based around household budgeting, came together in another six weeks or so, based on setting aside time and just blocking out all the internet white noise."

The $120 Food Challenge (Penguin, $29.95) is available at leading and independent booksellers, KMart, Target, Big W, and online through Booktopia. Visit Sandra's wonderful blog The $120 Food Challenge here, and go say hello on Facebook or Twitter.

Mr5 has a new drum kit

2012-01-24T21:55:00.001+11:00

Mr5 has a new drum kit. It is red, and flashy, and loud. It has a bass drum with a foot pedal to make it go boom, boom, boom. There's a snare, and a tom-tom, and cymbals that crash together with a satisfying, clashing ring. Particularly when hit with the actual, timber drumsticks.

Mr5 is in raptures over his drum kit. He is giving Mr8 lessons. Thwack, boom, thwack, ting, thwack, bang, bang, bang. (Twirl drumsticks.)

Repeat.

Thank you Gran and Pops. He really is thrilled.

And thank heavens school starts next week.

12 things I learned in my second year of blogging

2012-01-22T23:02:00.001+11:00

When the first anniversary of the Fibro blog rolled around, I was so excited I threw a party. I couldn't believe I'd made it that far. Given the 98* per cent of blogs don't survive their first year, I was thrilled with myself for staying the course. I even wrote a post about 12 Things I Learned in my First Year of Blogging, just to share my newfound knowledge. You couldn't hold me back!

Today is the second anniversary of the Fibro blog. I only know that because tonight I said to The Builder "Hmmm, it must be nearly the second anniversary of the Fibro blog... I might need to write a post about that." A quick check back to my embarrassing first post and, oh my, it's today!

To mark the occasion, I thought I'd do exactly what I did last year, only sans party. So here they are. Twelve things I've learned in my second year of blogging.

1. Blogging is like any relationship. You graduate from sexy lingerie and the ability to go all night to comfy cotton undies and the knowledge that even things you love can become a chore.

2. Writing for blogs is different from any other kind of writing. It requires an intimacy of voice that can take time to develop. But it is also one of the most natural, rewarding forms of writing. And very necessary for anyone serious about developing a writing career today. Learning how to blog smarter, not harder, is essential.

3. Doing it less can be more work. Even regular bloggers can suffer from performance pressure.

4. If you don't understand why you're blogging, take a break. Getting confused about what you're doing can result in a whole lot of churning, when what you really want is a smooth glide across the blogosphere.

5. It's important to get off your blog if you want to build your blog. But every step you take takes time. A lot of time. Find your own rhythm with it all.

6. You will never know how a post will work until it does - or doesn't. One of my most commented-upon posts ever was a picture of my tomatoes. Really. Well, they were awesome tomatoes, it's true.

7. Instagram, hipstagram and all the other grams can make a photographer out of even the most visually inept person (aka me). One of my new Blog Year resolutions is to take more of my own pictures this year. Clearly this will start tomorrow...

8. You can blog for two years and still have no idea about SEO. Except that it's meant to be important. And clearly I'm missing out.

9. Your blog will morph and change and take on an identity all of it's own. When I started out, I hardly ever wrote about writing. Now I do it all the time. Why? Because that's what I do. Because people ask me questions and I like to answer them. Because the Friends of Fibro seem to like them. Because I spend so much of my time writing that it's hard to overlook. And because blogs are best when they're true to what's going on in the blogger's life. Which is why I haven't written about my tomatoes this year. Crop failure.

10. If you ask the blogging community a straight question, they will respond with a straight answer. So if you really DON'T want to know why a particular post was a dud, do not write a post like this one.

11. Blogging has given me the kind of record of my family, my writing and my life that I would never have achieved without it. I'm not a journal keeper. I'm not a diarist. I am, however, a blogger. And I am so very grateful for those snippets of my day-to-day life. It's amazing what you forget. (Vale Alla Hoo Hoo.)

12. Simple advice is the best advice. You do what you do. Seriously, there is no better recipe for creating a great blog.

*this stat may or may not be slightly exaggerated

[image: via pinterest]

Words no parent wants to hear: "This could be highly dangerous..."

2012-01-19T20:24:00.001+11:00

It takes very brave* parents to buy an eight-year-old boy his own 'science experiment' kit. Complete with microscope, telescope, slidey things and chemicals marked 'poison' and 'danger' and 'do not ingest'. Brave** parents indeed to overlook the Poisons Information information in said kit and still hand it on over anyway.

Mr8 is in full experimental flow. We have made sugar crystals (coloured yellow) and salt crystals (coloured green) and all manner of Food-Colouring Potions. I like Food-Colouring Potions. They change colour. They blend together. They do not blow up.

"But they don't do anything," points out Mr8. "And they all end up murky brown."

Good point. Safety does not a scientific breakthrough make.

So he has progressed to the 'chemicals' in his set. He gloves up (complaining constantly about the smell of the 'safe for food handling' latex gloves). He puts on his safety glasses which, together with his shock of brown hair, make him look all together too much like Yahoo Serious (now whatever happened to him?) in Young Einstein.

Today he had some friends over. I was inside, doing mum stuff, and they were all on the deck, performing 'experiments'. They had poured vinegar on bicarb with spectacular, spewing, frothing results. Then there was a sudden hush. And through the window floated Mr8's voice. Earnest. Serious. With the clipped, precise tones of a BBC radio announcer, circa 1952:

"This... could be... highly... dangerous."

It would take a brave parent to ignore those words and go about her 'mum stuff', leaving boys to be boys. I am not that optimistic. I ~~tore~~ popped outside to find them all sitting around him as he used his tweezers to drop a small plant, roots and all, into a weak, coloured solution. They all looked at me. I looked at them.

"As you were," I said, strolling back inside.

I'm not entirely sure that science has won out over drama in Mr8. Not yet.

*brave in the sense of optimistic...
**okay, brave in the sense of silly.

Writing is a sweaty business

2012-01-17T23:13:00.001+11:00

I'm sweating. Metaphoric sweat, but sweat none-the-less. It's beading on my forehead and running in little rivers down my sides.

I have some changes to make on the manuscript for my novel. I have notes from my editor. Suggestions. Most of them are of the forehead-smacking 'of course! you're right!' variety. Some are surprising. All of them require more. More from me. They require me to dig deeper, go harder, dive, dive, dive. I need to move things around, change things up. Wade back into that sea of words.

So far I have done a lot of thinking. A lot of note writing. A lot of sweating. When the boys go back to school, I will do a lot of writing. And more sweating.

I'm worried that I'm not up to the challenge. I go to bookshops and run my fingers along the shelves. All of those clever people with their witty turns of phrase and their convoluted plot lines. Can I do this? Really? Who do I think I am?

I am lucky. I have a husband who knows me well. "Can I do this?" I ask. "You did it in the first place," he says. "Of course you can."

I have friends who write books. I call them. "Can I do this?" They tell me that everyone feels this way (good news). With every book (not so good news - this novelist thing is not for the fainthearted).

I will do it. I did not come this far to turn back now.

In extra good news, one of my friends who writes books has agreed to spread her knowledge, experience and support even further. Dianne Blacklock, author of eight fabulous novels, including her latest The Secret Ingredient, will co-host the next Fibro Facebook chat, all about writing fiction, next Wednesday night, January 25, 2012, from 8.30-9.30pm (AEDST). Join the Fibro Facebook page for details and reminders.

Making a meal of planning an app

2012-01-15T22:45:00.001+11:00

I used to love cooking. I was a huge fan of recipe magazines and cookbooks (see evidence in photo of a small portion of my collection). Always looking for something new to try. The Builder and I used to have at least one new dish to try each week, if not more. I hated eating the same thing two weeks in a row.

Used to.

All of this, of course, was pre-children. When I was dealing with two adults with relatively adventurous palates and had all the time in the world to pontificate about what we'd have for dinner that night. Now I have four palates: two relatively adventurous, one relatively adventurous for a kid, and Mr5, who would happily live on ham and salad for the rest of his life.

So I have to plan meals. A week in advance. And generally featuring mostly things we've had before. Things I know that Mr8 and Mr5 will eat. Boring things. All of which makes meal planning about as exciting as flossing one's teeth.

Having said that, I have learned through the school of 'Cruskits for lunchboxes' that meal planning is essential. I do a weekly shop, including stuff for lunches, and top up with fruit and bits and pieces as the week progresses (which is to say that I'm still at the supermarket every second day but it's only for small items). But there's great value in arriving home after Little Ninjas or swimming or whatever and knowing the 'fixings' for a meal are at hand.

As I wandered through the supermarket today, menu planned, list in hand, I began to invent a new app. A meal planning app. You put in your details (number of adults, number of kids, general likes and dislikes, level of cooking skill), fighting the auto-correct all the way, and it sends you, once a week, a full week's menus, with shopping list. All the deciding done for you. No need to sit down and think 'what the hell am I going to make for dinner tonight?'.

I think it would sell.

There is an app out there called 'What's For Dinner?', which seems to offer access to lots of recipes, your own and other people's. It's almost there. Now if they could just make the decisions for you, I reckon they'd be on to a winner.

Until, of course, they create an app that actually does the cooking for you. And the washing up.

Now that would would make me app happy.

What would you put in a meal-planning app? What's the best food/cooking app you've tried?

Drifting

2012-01-12T22:41:00.001+11:00

Remember when you were young, and school holidays felt endless. Each day stretched before you. Time passed slowly. You had time to be bored?

Our first week back in the Fibro following the Epic Family Holiday has been like that. Starting late. Easing into the day. Nowhere in particular to be. Nothing in particular to do.

It's lovely. The boys are relaxing. They play together. They bicker. They do something separately for a while. They come back together. I faff about, providing snacks, reading my book, an occasional spot of housework.

The perfect rhythm for a school holiday. Except I'm not. At school. Or on holidays. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the notion that there are a couple of deadlines screaming my way. Sigh. Best I think about those.

Tomorrow.

[image: via weheartit]

How to turn your blog into a book

2012-01-10T22:29:00.000+11:00

A few weeks before Christmas, as I was floundering about in my usual search for the perfect Christmas gift for The Builder, I had a moment of, well, to put it politely, genius. I'd make the Fibro blog into a book for him. A nice little precis of our lives over the past couple of years.

Right. Now how was I going to do that? Initially I had visions of reformatting every post into Word and... well, let's just go no further down that long, winding and difficult path. Instead, I turned to my best mate Google and typed in 'blog to book'.

Voila! Several enticing options for me to simply press a few buttons and have a neatly printed book appear. But which to choose?

I had one false start with a company that seemed to offer exactly what I needed but... well, let's just say the program turned out to be way too difficult unwieldy to think about in the middle of the night (my natural working time). Then I stumbled across Blurb.com.

Despite the fact that I couldn't quite work out how much it was all going to cost, I followed the instructions, exported my blog, imported my blog, edited my blog (Blurb has an advantage over The False Start in this area), removed posts that were not relevant, added photos that were relevant, dillied, dallied and dithered and, after several nights of hard work, discovered that I had created a 320 (!) page hardcover book. Eek allores!

Taking a deep breath, I uploaded the whole thing and then awaited the final costing (you don't pay until you get that figure, so no stress - just lots of work wasted if it turned out it was going to cost an arm and a leg). And I was surprised. Pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly surprised. The whole custom-made thing, including shipping, cost less than some of the gift books that come out around Christmas (email me if you want the exact figure - The Builder reads my blog every day and I don't want him knowing how much Santa and his elves spent).

I pressed publish. I pressed private (you can choose to have your book publicly sold). I waited anxiously to see what the quality of the whole exercise would be like.

Again, I was pleasantly surprised. There are some limits to the design process, which may be less pleasing to those with a more discerning eye than I, but for what I wanted - a wholly personal and meaningful one-off gift - it was perfect. It's a tangible record of all this ephemeral writing. A tangible record of those tiny moments of family life that are otherwise lost to memory (despite an extensive archive to wade through).

It reminded me that, while the Internet is forever, holding a book in your hands makes your words so much more... present.

If you're a blogger, give yourself a present and visit Blurb. I really recommend it*.

*Not a sponsored post. Just saying.

Where do you go to relax?

2012-01-08T22:26:00.001+11:00

When Fam Fibro goes on holidays, we go. Around 1200km, round trip, in the car, to be precise. What began as a simple 'let's visit the family up north for a few days' turned into an odyssey. A few days at Chez Maxabella (sadly without Maxabella in residence) in the Big Smoke, where we visited Oma, visited the Harry Potter exhibition, visited cousins, visited friends... you get the picture.

Into the car for the short drive to the Central Coast, where we visited friends. Into the car for the longer drive to Port Macquarie (how boring is that stretch of highway between Buladelah and Kempsey... no, really? Something must be done), where we visited a carnival. Into the car, for the short drive to a small town near Coffs Harbour, rumoured to be the holiday destination of an Aussie supermodel, where we visited, not the model, but The Builder's brother.

Three blissful days in which the only visiting we did was to the beach.

Into the car for the shortish drive to Forster, which turned into a much longer drive when we discovered that there was no room at the inn. Any inn. So we visited Newcastle and granted ourselves the luxury of a night at the Grand Mercure, simply so we could stretch out and watch the enormous boats on the working harbour.

Into the car for the very short drive to our next stop - which became much longer once we decided we should visit some of the Hunter Valley's finest wineries. Now that was a visit.

One more night at a friend's house, in which we were visited by an enormous storm. And then into the car to head back to the Fibro, where we visited with the family members who'd been staying at our place in our absence.

Phew.

On the positive side, we did more socialising in 10 days than we've done all year. We visited amazing beaches, drank amazing wine, got to see the Sorting Hat in action, spent time with family and friends, sang a bit, laughed a lot. On the negative side of the ledger, Mr5* managed to split his head open, stand on a bee, and develop a serious case of Verbal Diarrhea (which, as everyone knows, can be fatal to anyone else within, say, the close proximity of a car...)

Somewhere around about Newcastle, Mr8* asked me how many more days on the road we had. "We'll be home on Friday night," I told him.

"Ah," he said, leaning back in his chair with a big, toothy smile peeking out from under his new Hogwarts cap. "Then we'll be able to relax."

Did you enjoy a family holiday this year? Where did you go to relax?

*new year, new names

[image: a photo I took whilst trying to keep my cover as an innocent tourist when I was really on Kerr Watch on the north coast]

Happy P-Day to Career Mums!

2012-01-03T08:00:00.001+11:00

Start transmission....

Just popping in from my blogcation (weather is great, wish you were here) for a small happy dance to celebrate the fact that Career Mums hits the bookshops today! Huzzah! Happy P-Day (publication day) to our little blue book. My co-author Kate and I are very excited!

See you on the January 8. I'll have a cocktail with an umbrella in it for you. Assuming I can find one in at my non-tropical holiday spot.

End transmission...

(Read more about Career Mums here...)

The night before the night before the night before Christmas

2011-12-22T22:01:00.001+11:00

Twas the night before the night before the night before Christmas, and all through the Fibro, not a creature was stirring... not even me, who should be, at the very least, wrapping presents. Instead, I'm eating festive red and green M&Ms and confessing my favourite karaoke tunes on Facebook. If that's not going to give me a virtual hangover tomorrow morning, I don't know what is...

I had big plans for my last post of the year. I could have done a Four-Corners-style 'Year In Review', with a month by month overview of Life In A Pink Fibro. Could have.

I could have done a Sunrise-style montage, little vignettes of the year that was, set to some kind of heart-wrenching, soul-soaring soundtrack. Could have.

Instead, I'm just going to say thanks for hanging out in the Fibro with me this year. I love it when you pop in to say hi and drink coffee. You are my very favourite style of visitor - the ones you don't have to clean up for - and I thoroughly enjoy your company.

It's been a big year, and 2012 is shaping up to be even bigger (even if Alla Hoo Hoo has moved to Sydney). Can't wait to share it with you.

I'll be back on Sunday January 8, 2012, full of beans and blogging mojo. For sure. I hope that your Christmas and New Year festivities are wonderful and that you also get as much sleep as you need. I have about a year's worth to catch up on, so wish me luck!

In the meantime, there's only one question left to ask...

What's your favourite karaoke tune? The song you bring out every time to bring the house down (or not)? Mine (after several thousand beers) is Son of A Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield. I know. I'm nuts!

[image: via Pinterest]

What's in a name? Quite a lot, apparently.

2011-12-20T21:52:00.001+11:00

Every once in a while I write a story that really catches my imagination. That gives me such pleasure - nay, glee - to write that I can't believe people are actually paying me to do this job. This week, I had such a story, all about baby names, which, I have to confess is one of my favourite topics of all time.

I love names. I love the anguish that goes behind choosing a baby's name. I love seeing whether the baby grows into the name or the name grows onto the baby. I even love that illicit thrill when a friend or family member names their child - and all you can think is WTF? Seriously, you think you know a person, and then they name their children (not that I've ever had this feeling with regards to my own family and friends, I hasten to add).

The best names always belong to other people. Who name their children - true stories, for these are all examples from a lengthy conversation on the Fibro Facebook page today - Chaos, Rowdy, Epiphany, Jesus, Sunshine, Handsome, Precious, Dolly Rockstar, Jonny Wolf, H (just the letter), Shanthony, Xanadu, Bluegum, Rubella, Shame and Waynette. And that's just a selection.

In the course of my story - you can read the whole thing on Kidspot here - I spoke to social researcher Mark McCrindle, whom I would add to my next dinner party guest list in a heartbeat. We talked about why the class of 2030 will be full of children named Kate, Will and Pippa. We talked about why biblical names are making a comeback (Hepzibah, anyone?) and why the top 20 names in Australia has remained fairly much the same for the past ten years. Nay, longer. We talked about why some names rise to the top and stay there, and others are merely flashes in pans (Britney?).

We discussed the fact that chasing a 'unique name' has become a trend in itself, perhaps a backlash from people who'd endured years at school as Melinda A, Melinda B, or Melinda C, and wanted their own child to have a name that stood on its own and would never be confused with anyone else in the class. We talked about how some of those names might be difficult to live with. Particularly in an era when our name is so much a part of our identity - it's everywhere (Facebook, email, everywhere).

Eight years ago, when the Builder and I were naming Mr7 (then not even with us), we endured the agony that is choosing a child's name. We ran the gamut of options - with girls he started at Charlie and I began with Audrey, so we had some ground to cover. We had a boys' name within minutes and a girls' name pretty much with just minutes to spare before the birth. It was HARD.

Now, as a writer, I get to choose names all the time. I have three different baby books and love to check out the 'popular names' sites on Google for inspiration. The beauty of those sites is that you can find names for characters from any era. All your characters born in the 1970s? The top 10 names is at your fingertips (Michelle, Nicole and Lisa, in case you were wondering).

I also get to use up the names that I loved but didn't quite make the grade for my actual children. Not Audrey, not yet, but soon....

Did you find it difficult to name your children? Did you have 'leftover' names?

[image: from BBLLSS/etsy]

Where do you write?

2011-12-18T22:18:00.001+11:00

I am a creature of habit. I know this because (beyond the fact that I have written about it before) the slightest hint of change in my office throws me into a panic. Tonight, for instance, I am sitting here trying to write with my printer on my desk, the contents of my filing cabinet on the floor and a random feather duster under one elbow. Go figure.

I am also sitting to the left of my computer, not the right. With cords under my feet. And I can't write. Well, nothing useful anyway.

I have writer friends who can write anywhere. They blithely sit outside with their laptops. Or take them to cafes. Or libraries. Or on planes. And they make progress. I don't. I am easily distracted and if it's all not just 'so' it doesn't work. Mind you, just 'so' simply means just 'my desk', which is usually messy and ugly and all kinds of wrong. But I have, after many years of freelance writing, trained into my body a Pavlovian response. I sit at this computer and I write. That's what I do (albeit sometimes via Twitter and Facebook). When people talk about 'The Zone', this is it.

Which is good from a focus perspective, but kind of boring from a 'where I write' perspective. I'd like to be able to say that I sit in the garden, with the scent of orange blossom in my nostrils. But the truth is that I would be hot, and there would be glare, and the words simply would not flow.

Much like tonight. With a printer cramping my style (and my ergonomics). So I'll manage a blog post, and that will be it. Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have adapted to my new surroundings and a new habit will quickly form. Hopefully.

Where do you write?

[image: my desk looks nothing like this one from theroxor.com]

Do you have a signature style?

2011-12-15T22:47:00.002+11:00

A friend of mine confessed via Facebook today that she'd had a perm. A perm. Seriously? First, I laughed and put a sarky comment on her status update. Then I posted a status update on the Fibro page, asking Friends of Fibro to share their own perm stories.

But even that wasn't enough. And so I'm blogging about it. Partly, I think, because I am in awe.

I am the most boring person on the planet when it comes to hair. I've had essentially the same hair for 20 years. Long, red, curly (okay, frizzy unless drenched in 1001 lotions and potions).

Prior to that, I had ... the same hair. Oh it was shorter when my Mum was in charge (because I wouldn't have wanted to deal with my mop either). There was a fringe. There was a moment of asymmetric madness in the late 1980s (all the better to show off my button earrings). A bob.

That's it.

I've never gone blonde, or brown, or black, or pink. I've had it straightened once or twice and it was nice for the 20 minutes it lasted but, really, not worth the effort to do every day. I wear it up every day and wear it long and curly when I go out. I colour it now to cover the greys, but I've finally found a colourist who can make it look close to what it looked like naturally about five years ago.

As I said, the most boring person when it comes to hair.

I put some of it down to being a redhead. The colour was pretty good, why muck about with it? The rest I just put down to me being boring.

The big problem, of course, is what happens next. It's probably time to cut it off. But if I cut it off, it's harder to deal with (much curlier and frizzier - no perm required). I'll continue to colour but at what point do I decide that I can't be a redhead any more?

Who knew that a lack-of-signature style would throw up such conundrums?

What's your hair history? Have you ever had a perm?

[image: if all else fails, I'm getting me one of these Rapunzel hats from Evermicha/Etsy]

So, I have some news

2011-12-13T18:12:00.000+11:00

On my way home from the Big Smoke yesterday, I found myself consigned to the vestibule area of the train. Me and five silver-haired gentlemen of indeterminate age. We all settled in with our books and our blank stares as the trained rocked and rolled its way toward Fibrotown. All of a sudden, the man sitting next to me announced loudly that Australia had nine wickets down and 29 runs to make to win the second test with New Zealand. It took me a few moments to realise he was wearing headphones (hence the loud voice) and was plugged into the game.

We all smiled and nodded and went back to our books and blank stares.

Several minutes later, he announced loudly that someone or other might be LBW and a decision was pending. Silence. "No, it's all right," he said. We all smiled and nodded, though, little by little, we were being drawn into the game.

We got a ball by ball rundown over the next five or ten minutes, much smiling and nodding, before Australia's last batsman was consigned to the dressing rooms and it was all over. The man next to me turned off his radio, wound up his headphones and no more was said from that point on.

He'd related his news. We'd all politely shared in it. There was no more to be said.

I relay this tale because I have some news. Up there with the most exciting news I've ever had.

My first novel will be published by Pan Macmillan in 2013. Title to be confirmed. Date to be confirmed.

But it's happening. And, yes, I am beside myself.

I hope that you are all smiling and nodding along with me.

I'll be sure to share updates (loudly) as they come to hand.

[image: via weheartit]

Room service of one's own

2011-12-11T21:00:00.000+11:00

By the time you read this, I will be luxuriating in a hotel room with fresh white sheets, room service and a TV with a remote control that I will not have to share with anyone. No-one.

For, you see, I will be all by myself.

I'm off to the Big Smoke to do 'Coffee', among other things, and this time, rather than cramming myself into my friend A's son's bottom bunk (my usual level of accommodation when I head to the Big Smoke), I've gone to lastminute.com and booked myself some solitude.

I'm a little bit excited. I will miss my boys, of course, but it has been a long time between Do Not Disturb signs. Catch you on Wednesday!

When was the last time you checked into a hotel by yourself?

[image: not where I'm staying, but the fabulous Charlotte Street Hotel, London, via designhotels.com]

What's your best-kept secret?

2011-12-08T21:41:00.002+11:00

Mr4 has had another big week. He can now click his fingers and whistle. Even at the same time. It is at once incredibly endearing and unbelievably annoying. He is so very proud of his achievements. And wishes to practise them all the time.

All. The. Time.

His new talents have led to the uncovering of one of my best-kept secrets. I cannot whistle. Not well. Not very well at all. I get kind of a thin, reedy, tuneless squeak. Full of air. Signifying nothing. It is one of my great regrets in life. I've always wanted to be one of those girls who casually puts two fingers in her mouth and lets out an ear-piercing wolf whistle. All I end up with is saliva all over my fingers and a red face.

Mr4 is most perturbed about my inability to whistle a happy tune. He is trying to teach me.

"You just make your lips into a circle and blow," he says, demonstrating. He makes a small noise.

I follow his lead. I make a much smaller noise and do not look near as cute with my lips in the regulation cat's bum position.

Mr7, who can whistle Christmas carols in tune, looks at us both indulgently. "Just keep practising," he tells us. "You'll get there one day."

Quite.

Can you whistle? Do you have a 'best-kept secret' - one of those things that everyone else in the world seems to be able to do... and you can't? (I won't tell a soul, promise.)

[image: I need one of these bird whistles from BKYStudios/Etsy]

Fibro Q&A: How to write a better blog (tips from a Problogger)

2011-12-06T21:58:00.001+11:00

Back in the early days of this blog, when I was still faffing about, thinking that blogging was writing on the internet, I happened to win a book in a giveaway. It was called 'Problogger: Secrets for blogging your way to a six-figure income'. "Yeah, right," I thought, tossing the book on the dining table (repository for all things Fibro) when it arrived and thinking no more of it. A few days later, on a slow news day, I picked up the book and read it from start to finish. By the end of it, I was not making a six-figure income, but I had some very good ideas about what I wanted to do with my blog - and what I didn't.

Darren Rowse is Problogger (@problogger on Twitter to be exact). He started his first blog in 2002. He now has several blogs, several books (if you're a new blogger, do not miss his 31 Days to Build A Better Blog Workbook), and a brilliant career extolling the virtues of blogging to the wider world. If you want to know how to make money on your blog, or off your blog, he's your man. He's also the go-to guy for tips on creating blog communities, using social media, and building your blog into a force to be reckoned with.

But I didn't want to talk to him about any of that. Oh no. I wanted to ask him all about the art of writing for blogs. So I invited him to the Fibro and, oh joy, he popped in for a (virtual) cuppa and a chat.

Settle back, this is good.

Do you believe that writing for blogs is different from writing for other forms of media? Why/why not?
Darren Rowse: "Tough question. I'll say yes... but with a small disclaimer! In general, I think blogs can do well with a more personal and playful voice than perhaps writers in other forms of media could get away with. This informal and personal style is something that blogs had a lot of success with in the early days and, from what I can see, is still often important in building an audience and relationship with readers.

"Having said that, my disclaimer - it does depend a little upon the style of the blogger and the goals of the blog. Some blogs do really well being written in a more formal and less personal voice. I am also increasingly seeing the more personal style appearing in other forms of media."

I've seen the line 'content is king' over and over - do you think that comes down to what you say or how you say it?
DR: "I think it's both. What you say is of vital importance - it needs to be useful to people in some way. I find that the best content is content that solves a need that somebody has. That need might be a big or important one like 'I need to know how to raise my child'. Or it could be something a little more frivolous, like 'I'm bored - entertain me'.

"How you say it is just as important though - in some ways, I think it is often what lifts good content to being great content. Your style or voice as a blogger is something that for most people comes over time and is hard to teach. Some bloggers just seem to be born with it (Mojo), while for others it develops as they experiment with different approaches to writing and see how others respond to it."

Do personal bloggers need to worry about Search Engine Optimisation (SEO)? How can they incorporate it without losing the rhythm of their writing?
DR: "My philosophy with SEO is pretty simple:

"1. Search engines are some of the biggest referrers of traffic going around. When someone wants to find information, it is more often than not a search engine that they head to.

"2. So if you want people to read your content (whether that content be 'personal' or something else), it makes a lot of sense to me to pay some attention to SEO and maximising your chances of being found in search engine results.

"3. So I advise learning the basics of SEO. Having a good understanding of how search engines rank sites and what you can do to optimise your blog is something that can be the difference between having a blog that is read - or not.

"4. However - I don't personally obsess about SEO. I know the basics and find that knowing them and practising them a little will, in time, bring changes to the way that you blog, that will lead to a natural SEO as you blog. For example - knowing that the keywords you use in the title of your post is important in SEO means you start to think about keywords more and, in time, develop better-optimised titles.

"5. Google is in the business of ranking the best and most authoritative content highest. So one of the best things you can do with SEO is to write high-quality content and build trust, credibility and authority in your niche through networking. While there are things you can tweak in your content to improve your SEO, the best thing you can do is write quality content that people share around.

So, learn the basics, implement them, don't obsess about SEO and build something of high quality."

For me, blogging is about voice. Stand-out bloggers have stand-out voices. Would you agree? Any tips to help bloggers develop their voices?
DR: "Voice is one of those elusive things that I wish I could bottle and hand out to bloggers. It's difficult to teach - some bloggers seem to be born with it, others find it develops in time and for others, it just seems to elude them.

"The main tips I could give:

*Practise - it takes time to develop your voice. The first 5000 posts are the hardest!

*Experiment - part of practising is experimenting with writing in different styles and voices. Set yourself tasks to write different types of posts. Experiment with different lengths, with formal and informal writing, with humour, with writing in the third person, with writing lists posts, case studies, question/discussion-based posts.

*Pay particular attention to how your posts are received - watch for sparks of energy and resonance from your readers. As you experiment, you'll find that some posts just seem to click with others, while others flop. This gives you hints as to what types of posts to keep experimenting with."

If you were a writer trying to build a community and a profile through a blog, what would you focus on? Is it enough to just write good stuff?
DR: "There are other factors that I think are important in building a good blog. Content is part of it, but I always try to add two other elements:

*Community: Engagement from readers (and among readers) is where the magic often happens. Ask readers questions, get them interacting with you and each other, give them homework, make them know that they're valued, build a culture of inclusivity. All of this helps make your blog more useful, but it also builds social proof and makes it easier to grow, because when new visitors come they will be more attracted to a site that is obviously active and inclusive - rather than one that simply has good content.

*Get off your blog: A 'build it and they will come' mentality doesn't really work with blogging. Just focusing all your energy on building a great blog is part of what you need to be doing, but also important is getting off your blog and interacting with other people's spaces. Identify who you want to read your blog and where they are already hanging out online - then go and interact (and be useful) in those spaces. In doing so, you'll start to build yourself a profile, credibility and, hopefully, in doing so, find readers for your own blog."

For everything you ever wanted to know about blogging, visit Darren at the Problogger website, or go say hello on Facebook. If nothing else, tell him how much you like his glasses.

**And don't forget the first-ever Fibro Facebook chat about freelance writing is on tomorrow night (Wednesday) at 8.30pm (AEDST). Hope to see you there!

Less is sometimes more

2011-12-04T23:00:00.000+11:00

When I first dropped my blog-post-a-day habit, I was twitchy. At 10pm every night (my usual blogging time), I'd be antsy. On the off days, I'd feel like something was missing. You know that feeling you have when you know you should be doing something but you're not quite sure what?

That feeling.

But I got busy with other things and before I knew it, I was finding myself trying to remember if a day was a blog day or not. It doesn't take long.

What I have noticed, however, is feeling more pressure than I ever did when I was cranking out a post a night. Now that I've offloaded my quantity issues, I'm struggling with quality issues. I feel as though every post must earn its place. I'm tossing ideas around in my head wondering if they're worthy enough to throw out there. Before, I'd be grabbing at every passing thought trying to extrapolate 500 words from it. Now, I'm discarding more posts than I'm writing - before they're even written.

The jury is out as to whether this is a good thing or not. On one hand, I do have an ongoing document on my computer that contains a whole lot of snippets - ideas, thoughts, fragments. Most of it will never see the light of day on this blog, but some of it may turn up in other forms (heavily fictionalised, for instance) down the track.

On the other hand, I spent a considerable amount of time the other night fitting the names of my favourite blogs into the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas before trashing the whole thing as ludicrous. (Despite 'Frills - In - The - Hills' being gobsmackingly perfect for the 'Five Gold Rings' line.)

Quality versus quantity. Sometimes less is more pressure.

How often do you blog? Has your pattern changed since you started blogging?

[image: hautegreenhutch/etsy]

Raising boys: Kid in the kitchen

2011-12-01T22:46:00.002+11:00

Mr7 and I did some cooking tonight. Usually 'cooking' involves both boys eating their bodyweight in chocolate chips whilst waiting to stir the cookie mixture. Or swiping at the cake mix with a wooden spoon before racing off to lick the batter off it.

Tonight, he decided he wanted to help me make dinner. Chilli con Carne (sans Chilli for him and Mr4). So I showed him how to cut an onion - which he then wanted to attempt with a butter knife, before I dissuaded him. And he helped me put the spices in with the meat - by standing halfway across the kitchen and flinging cumin in the general direction of the pot. "You can go closer," I said, watching bemused as the cumin snow hit the ground. But no, he didn't want to burn himself.

When he attempted to open a can of tomatoes with a bottle opener, not being able to recognise a can opener out of the drawer, I realised it's definitely time to overcome my anxiety about him chopping off a finger or setting fire to his hair and actually teach him to cook. I have always sworn that I would never raise boys who could not fend for themselves.

Time to start putting my money where my mouth is.

Do you cook with your kids? What kinds of things are you cooking (and how old are they?)? And are those coloured knives on Junior Masterchef more kid-friendly than other knives?

[image: decal by tweetheartwallart/etsy]

Save the date

2011-11-29T21:53:00.001+11:00

I don't know about you, but the calendar is beginning to get a little crammed. Fortunately, The Builder showed me how to use the Outlook calendar and so I'm getting reminders and everything these days. Amazing thing, that technology.

Anyhoo. My focus on calendars is all due to the fact that I have a date for yours. I'm going to host a Facebook chat about freelance writing at the Fibro page next Wednesday, 7 December, at 8.30pm (AEDST). I'll be there until 9.30pm for any questions you might have about freelancing.

The invitation is out. One week to go. Now all that's left for me to do is to clean the house, put up a few balloons and sit around nervously drinking wine, wondering if anyone will show up.

You can join the Fibro Facebook page here (I'll post reminders there, in case you haven't worked out your Outlook calendar yet). Hope to see you there.

[image: divine illustrated mini calendar by milk and cookies on MadeIt]

Motherhood is... Learning when to let go

2011-11-27T22:35:00.002+11:00

Mr4 has found the sweet spot on his bike. He is off and racing. Little legs pumping, concentration fierce. He still wobbles. He still worries. But he's doing it. With his eyes open.

It has taken a little while for him to get going. I found him on the grass this afternoon, in tears. Mr7 told me that he'd forgotten to push off when he lifted his foot. Balancing on a stationary bike is best left to the professionals. "He went sideways, Mum," said Mr7, solemnly.

Mr4 looked up at me, face screwed up, red and angry. "I'm okay," he said, between sobs. "I don't need you. I don't need you."

I backed away.

We took them out, to a place with space and paths on which to spread his wings. He tried at first with me puffing along behind, holding the back of his seat, shouting instructions as he wibbled towards the road and wobbled towards the trees. "Let go, Mum, let go," he screamed back.

I couldn't. He was too wobbly, he wasn't steering straight. All I could foresee was disaster.

On the return journey, he refused my help, turning to his Dad. Mr7 and I made our way back to the car. "Coming through!" we heard, a few metres up the track. I turned and there was Mr4 riding towards me, The Builder running behind shrieking (in a manly way) "You're doing it! You're doing it" (I tell you, it's catching). He rode to the end of the path, turned and returned.

"You held on for too long," he told me, serene in his new ability. "You have to let go. I can't ride unless you let go."

I nodded, message finally understood.

Oh, but this motherhood gig is hard.

[image: I love these bird prints from barkingbirdart/etsy]

Fibro Q&A: So you want to be a fashion/beauty writer?

2011-11-24T22:12:00.000+11:00

Paula Joye has dedicated the last 20 years of her life to beauty, fashion and style. When I met her in the early days of my fulltime features-writing career, she was the deputy editor of CLEO, a gorgeous (still is, see left), bubbly blonde with endless reserves of encouragement (for people like me) and unlimited potential (for her). She pretty much fulfilled all that potential in magazines, as editor of CLEO, Shop Til You Drop and Madison - and editor-in-chief of all three - and has now moved on to seeing where it will take her online (I'm thinking far) with Life.Styled., which she describes as a 'depot for beautiful things'.

With a solid-gold background in beauty and fashion editing in her portfolio, I could think of no better person to ask about beauty and fashion writing. It's a very specific niche in the publishing world (both print and online) and it calls for a particular set of skills. Not least of which is being able to write down, off the top of your head, at least a dozen different alternatives for each of these words: hair, skin, eyes, fragrance. Trust me, it's not as easy as it looks...

What are the three main skills you need to be a good fashion or beauty writer?
PJ: "1. You must love it, otherwise it will melt your brain. The way to find true satisfaction when specialising in any subject is passion - if you kinda like shoes or sorta think mascara is awesome, it's never going to be for you.

"2. Have an opinion. This separates the wheat from the chaff. The best beauty and fashion writers have a point of view that is engaging, 360 and often humorous or self-deprecating. It's not rocket science and shouldn't be written as such.

"3. Luck. Right place. Right time."

I think it's an area of writing that people think is easy - but anyone who's tried to write a hair story and come up with 33 different ways to say 'hair' (without repeating yourself) knows differently. What are the keys to getting it right?
PJ: "Finding 33 different words for hair! Creativity is key and the big one is to avoid cliches. It is an area riddled with them - find a new angle, throw the net wider, and don't say stuff like 'sun, sand and salt water can wreak havoc on your locks'. Just don't."

Of course, there's more to it than just the writing. Fashion and beauty editors spend a lot of time away from their desks, viewing collections, attending product launches, etc. Is relationship-building a vital tool in the fashion or beauty writer's arsenal?
PJ: "One hundred per cent. It's your mainline to experts, new information, inspiration - it's the front line. The industry is about contacts and runs on the board - a big part of that is the network you create."

How do I break into this area if it's something I'm passionate about?
PJ: "You can do it. Make sure you really want it (because it's hard) and then dig your heels in. Work experience is essential. Try to get an internship within a magazine, newspaper or television fashion or beauty department. Start a blog or website as an outlet for your writing - and to become your CV."

Would you agree then that any potential fashion/beauty writer/editor needs a blog? What do you think are the key ingredients of a standout fashion/beauty blog?
PJ: "You should only create a blog if you're passionate about it - no matter what the subject matter. Yes, it's a great way to express your creative point of view and self-publish, but it's also a beast that needs to be fed. Daily.

"Find your sticky point - and for everyone that will be different. The key to success is recognising the 'thing' that people are visiting your blog for, and capitalising on it.

"A wise editor once said (and man, it's true), 'Should we give the readers more of what they want? Or less?'

"It's actually that simple."

Visit Paula at lifestyled.com.au for everything you ever wanted to know about fashion, beauty, home, heart... and fun.

Just another blog post about blogging (and ducks)

2011-11-22T21:42:00.000+11:00

I had an editor once who liked to talk about ducks a lot. About how their effortless glide across a pond concealed a whole lot of hard work, churning and strain underneath. That, he told me, is what writing should be like. Good writing.

Readers, he said, do not want to know about how difficult it was to organise a particular interview. They do not want to know how long it took you to find a park, or how you arrived flustered and red-faced only to discover that your interviewee was still in the shower.

What they want, he continued (at length), is a simple, beautifully written profile piece. About the heart of the story - not about you.

I spoke to a very good blogger today, who said something similar about blogging. "I write my blog every day as though it's the first day that every reader will visit it," she said. "What do I want them to see?"

Blogging can be hard work. Of that there is no doubt. There's a lot to consider, a lot going on in the background. Decisions to be made about X, Y and Z. All very important stuff.

But probably not for readers. Who just want to admire the sunshine on your glossy feathers as you sail across the smooth surface of the blogosphere. What shines your particular set of feathers will be different to the blog next door - it might be humour or pathos or advice or raw passion or stunning images or mouth-watering craft.

The churning? Not so much.

[image: via weheartit.com]

Have yourself a very early Christmas

2011-11-20T22:42:00.001+11:00

The first Christmas card entered the Fibro two weeks ago. Two. Weeks. Mr7 smuggled it home in his school bag, more interested in the lollipop that came with it than in the card itself. Until he realised that he had the first card. The only card. Which, as far as he's concerned, pretty much makes him the most popular member of the household.

He may have a point.

Personally, I think that the first week of November is a little early for Christmas cards. Mr7's card has hung, in splendid isolation, in the acreage of the living room venetian blind (see image), for nearly 14 days now. It looks very lonely. We have all fully appreciated it from every angle.

Longterm readers of this blog will know that I am a fan of the Christmas card. I like to send them. I like to receive them. I have already bought some splendid examples from Leaf Journals. But there's no way I'd send them before the first week of December. Maybe the second. And I don't tend to give them to people I see all the time. I don't do The Exchange.

What do you think? Can you peak too early with Christmas cards? When's the optimum time to send (and receive)? Oh, and where do you put yours?

The Writer's Apprentice

2011-11-17T22:13:00.001+11:00

Mr7 and I have found a new reading obsession. The Ranger's Apprentice series by John Flanagan has captured his imagination - and mine. Actually, mine first. I was searching for books that would be suitable for him, and was given a few recommendations by our new best friend at one of the local bookshops. She knows us, you see, and always has something to suggest for him when we pop in.

She handed me the first Ranger's Apprentice with this review: "He'll love it, and best of all it stays at the same level throughout the series." No more shades of Grumpy Harry Potter, who gets darker and more bewildering as he advances through puberty.

I took it home, opened it - and read the whole thing in one sitting. It's really good. Well written, fast-paced, heaps of action, great characters, good life lessons. Jackpot!

I handed it to Mr7 the next morning. "You'll love it," I said. He took it from me - and refused to read it. I think I was just a little bit too enthusiastic. I keep forgetting I'm his mum. Who wants to read what mum thinks is good?

It took months, but finally, on a slow news day, he picked it up. And was hooked. He's now zooming through book four and has book five lined up, ready to go. (I would just like to say at this point that I haven't even said 'I told you so'... much.)

In true Mr7 style, he is now writing his own book. It is called The Four Archers, and he assures me that any resemblance to the Ranger's Apprentice (which features archery - heavily) is absolutely coincidental. Note to self: revisit the plagiarism discussion.

"How many words will I need to make it into a real book?" he asked.

"Oh, 3000-5000," I said, thinking of the school readers.

Silence.

"Do you mean the Ranger's Apprentice books are 5000 words long?" he asked.

"Oh no," I said. "If you want to write one of that length, you're looking at around 30,000-40,000 I think."

Silence.

"Whoa, that's a LOT of words."

Tell me about it.

I suggested that he might like to try writing a summary of his story first - a plot outline - and then writing the book based on that.

Silence.

"I don't think that would work, Mum. I like to make it up as I go along."

Tell me about it.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

[image: rangersapprentice.com.au]

A great unveiling (introducing Career Mums, the book)

2011-11-15T22:12:00.002+11:00

I've tried a few openings for this blog post. It's an unveiling kind of post and I felt it should have some pomp and ceremony. But everything I tried sounded either too Barnum Bros Circus (Roll up! Roll up!), too 'Prime Minister opening large and important building' (It gives me great pleasure...) or too 16-year-old girl with Text Addiction issues (OMG! ZOMG! OMGOMGZOMG!).

Plus there was the slight problem of the picture being the first thing you see. Not so much unveiling as simply Putting It Right Out There!

So I thought I'd just, you know, Put It Right Out There.

Let's just take one moment to contemplate the cuteness that is the cover of Career Mums, my new book, co-authored with the lovely Kate Sykes, founder of careermums.com.au, Telstra ACT Businesswoman of the Year in 2010, and general all-round good egg. It will hit the stands on January 3, 2012, ready for any New Year, New You! thoughts you may be having about making 2012 the year that you make some changes in your work/life balance.

We set out to write a useful, informative, practical guide to using the Right to Request Flexibility (enshrined in legislation in January 2010) to help make your life as a working parent an easier road to travel. We tried to make it easy to follow, even entertaining in places, and to cover off as many of the issues facing working parents as we could in the space we had. Being a working mum is not a one-size-fits-all proposition (besides, we all know that one-size-fits-all clothes never fit anyone, not really), but we think that there are ways of making it work for you - and we hope that this book will help you with your journey. At the very least, it will give you lots to think about!

In a joyous coincidence, I discovered today, whilst Googling my name (as one does) in the name of researching a current feature (don't ask) that Booktopia is offering pre-orders of Career Mums at 20 per cent off! A mere $15.95 will secure you a copy.

So there it is. An unveiling and a gratuitous plug in one blog post. Who says I'm not creative?

PS: Join the CareerMums Facebook page to keep up to date with book news, part-time jobs around the nation, blog posts from some of Australia's best working mum bloggers and for the opportunity, at a date to be announced, to win some mentoring time with Kate - if you're keen to get back to work, or make work work better for you, she's the one to help!

Gardening + Editing = same/same

2011-11-13T22:16:00.000+11:00

Gardening is a surprising business. Even with all the instructions, conditions, fertiliser and prayers in the world, some plants simply never prosper. They decide they don't like your plot of land and simply turn their toes up at it. Others will thrive, despite a perfect storm of neglect, bad soil and lousy location.

At the beginning of winter this year, The Builder and I planted some dwarf, winter-flowering Italian lavender. They were very cute. Small, perfectly formed. We placed them gently round the bottom of a new camellia (for which we had high hopes) and sat back to watch.

Today I approached said 'dwarf' lavenders with pruning shears in hand. They had, to be brief, run amok, squeezing the life out of the camellia (for which we had high hopes). They had flowered over winter, flowered during spring and were about to flower again. Meanwhile, we had been waiting for them to finish flowering so that we could 'tip prune' them - as per instructions on the label. They didn't finish. No tip pruning. Which means lots and lots of dead lavender heads adorning their spiky fronds.

The time had come to cut those suckers back.

I began with the secateurs, gently teasing each dead lavender head from the foliage and delicately snipping it off. I did this for about 15 minutes and then stood back to admire my handiwork. Large pile of dead lavender heads on the path - no discernible difference to the plants.

Something more brutal was required.

I called The Builder outside (from grouting duties within the Fibro) to confer. We decided that I would take a third off each plant. "Back to the basic structure," he said. "Get rid of the faff."

So I pulled out my Edward Scissorhands shears and began hacking in. Spears of lavender went everywhere, landing at my feet. Wait a minute, I thought to myself. These are flowers. Beautiful, deep purple flowers. I put down the shears, ran inside for a container, picked up the secateurs and snipped off a huge bouquet of lavender to adorn the Fibro.

That done, I hacked into the bushes again, reducing their bulk by one-third, back to the wood, shaping them as I went. As I got towards the end of my task, I began to leave the new shoots I could see, taking care to cut around them - after all, I would like a few summer flowers from my winter-flowering lavender if possible.

My lavender shrubs are now neat and tidy, ready for whatever summer will bring. The removal of the dead heads allows more sun to penetrate, allowing for even more growth. The camellia (for which we have high hopes) is once again the star, and has enough room to breathe.

The whole time I was undertaking this exercise, I was thinking about editing.

The first time somebody asked me to edit my full-length manuscript, I went in very gently, snipping a few bits here, changing a word, putting in a comma.

Then a structural editor got hold of my manuscript and told me, in no uncertain terms, that I had started with the wrong character and that the whole thing needed to be turned upside down until the basics of the story and the characters was revealed. I did that, putting aside some bits I really loved, the ones that weren't quite right for this story, and storing them away. You never know what you'll be able to use again.

And even as I hacked away at my manuscript, I discovered new shoots. Things I hadn't noticed before because I was too busy concentrating on the showy stuff. Kill your darlings, they say. If a scene or a character or a line is only there because you love it, not because it advances the story, it has no place in this book.

Once I'd finished editing my manuscript, I had a much better book. Much better. But I'd never have found it if I hadn't got the pruning shears out and gone to town on it.

Lessons of the day: 1) quick and brutal beats death by 1000 cuts. 2) Your first draft is not your manuscript. It's really not.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar (aka Why do you blog?)

2011-11-10T22:19:00.002+11:00

If I've learned nothing else in my many months of blogging, I've learned the value of recording the little things. Snippets. Pictures. A thought here. A moment there. And it's for that reason that I'm writing today's post. It's been a bit of a Mr4 week this week, but that's okay. He's off to big school next year. So many of his thoughts and ideas and random utterances will be heard by other people.

Not me.

But this one, today's one, was mine.

The scene: Mr4, Mr7 and I are in the car, on our way to take Mr7 to his piano lesson. The boys are chatting about this and that. Mr4 tells Mr7 how hungry he is.

"You can't possibly be hungry," I say, interrupting. Mr4 is in the midst of a hollow-legs phase. "You ate a lot today."

"What did you have?" asks Mr7.

"Well," says Mr4, considering. "I had two pieces of buttery toasters for breakfast. And a milkshake. And half a caramel slice. And an apple. And a ham wrap. And a cheesestick. And some sultanas. And some crackers. And four strawberries..."

Pause.

"And then," he continued, in exactly the same tone of voice. "I ate one nice green leaf, and I felt much better."

Pause.

Mr7 and I cracked up, while Mr4 grinned from ear to ear. Did you see what he did there? It seems that Mr4 is learning the art of the punchline.

Why do you blog? Do you use your blog as a record of life? Do you aim for big picture or small moments?

[image: fabric from besewhappy.com]

This post is part of the Weekend Rewind blog hop. Join in! Link up an old post for new comment love.

To pet, or not to pet, that is the question

2011-11-08T22:16:00.001+11:00

Mr4 is desperate for a pet. He has taken to crawling around the house, pretending to be a cat. Sometimes a Turtle Cat, but mostly just a cat. The Builder and I are hesitating. Our reasons are sound - we have plans to travel, plans to move, plans to plan. But none of them make sense to a four year old who wants something to pat.

He's always been a patter, Mr4. Maxabella would be laughing at the irony of this, she being a patter, me being someone who has always hated being patted. But, I'm here to tell you, being patted by the fruit of your own loins is somewhat different to being patted, absently or annoyingly, by your sister.

Mr4 likes to pat my hair. He has always done this. I generally wear it tied back in a messy, up-do thing, and he has always, from birth, liked to hold onto my messy, up-do thing. And pat it. I thought this was something he'd grow out of, but no... His first words may not have been 'Mummy, put her hair up', but they were three, four, five and six.

Recently, the patting has been out of control. It's a security thing, but he often forgets that it's attached to my head - kind of awkward at times and the words 'please don't pat my hair' may have been uttered on several occasions.

This morning we were discussing, in the car on the way to preschool, the RSPCA box set up in the classroom. The children are all very interested in the RSPCA, particularly given the cupcake fundraiser put on earlier this year. We had enough cupcakes to have them on sale every afternoon for a week! Very popular, the RSPCA.

This time, we are donating tins of food, toys and treats. Mr4 is adamant that we must have a toy as part of our donation. He knows that RSPCA dogs are not free to roam around and feels they must be very bored. We decided on a tin of food and a toy.

There was a little silence. Then...

"Mummy, when, oh when, can I have a pet?"

I began the usual soothing 'soon' conversation, but he was having none of it.

"If I have a pet, I'll have something to pat," he said. "And I won't have to pat your hair anymore!"

His smile was a mile wide. He'd played his trump card. He was willing to give up the hair, if he could have the pet.

It's almost tempting...

Do you have a pet? Was it a considered decision or a spur-of-the-moment thing?

PS: The hand of Mr4 (pictured above) has drawn the winners of the two Peter Carnavas book packs and they are... drum roll please... River and Saffron. Please send me your postal details via the email address on this blog and I'll get them out to you asap.

The cycle of fete

2011-11-06T22:25:00.001+11:00

Today was School Fete Day.

(Thank you for your kind wishes. I'm fine.)

I was tempted to simply run this post again - my stellar effort from last year's stellar fete - but, in the end, decided to go with simply running the same opening. Every fete feels as though it will be the same as the last one, but it's not. Yes, I was on the book stall again (this year's highlight books most discussed book was one called You Sexy Mother, but we had nothing to rival last year's 365 Ways to Drive A Man Wild in Bed). Yes, the lead-up to the fete was announced by a deluge of coloured notes. No, I didn't win anything in the raffle again. Not that I'm complaining, you understand.

This year I was watching the organisers of our fete with a slightly different mindset. During the writing of my new book Career Mums (out January 2012 - gratuitous plug), I learned a few things from my co-author Kate Sykes about how to write your resume if you've been out of paid employment for a while. Her take-home message: you have the skills, you just need to put them in work-speak. As I watched our P&F president, treasurer, secretary et al in action, I realised that she was right.

Our president has the marshaling skills of a tactician, the organisation skills of a General, and the patience of a saint. We have two mums at the school who created a pop-up shop, complete with hand-crafted doo-dads, homemade yummy stuff, and their own gozleme, from scratch, under a tent, without drama. Publicity, marketing, events management, retail, entrepreneurial skills... they're all there. Just ordinary people, doing their thing.

As one burly farmer said to me over a beer at the wind-down event, "Where else would you rather be on a Sunday afternoon than with a bunch of tired, sweaty, satisfied volunteers?"

Where indeed?

Seriously, though, it's a great way to keep your skills up or learn new ones. And next year I might just win the raffle.

[image: twirlingbetty/etsy]

Fibro Q&A: Words and pictures - how to write a children's book

2011-11-03T22:56:00.001+11:00

Children's book author and illustrator Peter Carnavas may be the first person to visit the Fibro (for Q&A purposes) whom I've never actually met. Everyone else has been a friend or acquaintance, either IRL (in real life) or URL (via blogs or Twitter). In fact, I wasn't even familiar with his work. But his very engaging publicist Sophia from New Frontier Publishing emailed me and asked if I'd be interested in reviewing Peter's new Little Treasures collection - four little books for little people.

Nope, said I, I'm not really about a review. But I did a little bit of further research, fell in love with Peter's whimsical illustration style, and realised that I had a few questions for an author who put big issues into children's books.

The four titles in his collection cover love, family, the environment and self-worth. Sarah must carry her heavy heart around with her. Jessica tries to make friends. Christopher's father is absent. And there is one about the last tree in the city. I'd tell you more about that one, but Mr4 has taken a liking to it and I can't find it. I asked him whether he liked the books that Mr Carnavas had sent him. "Yes," he said. "I do." "Why?" I asked, looking for pithy words of wisdom for a review. "There's one about a tree," he said. "I like trees."

And, really, what better review of a children's book?

So here he is. All the way from the Sunshine Coast where, I discovered, he lives in a Fibro! (How could I not love him?)

You take on some 'big' issues in your little books. Why do you choose to tackle those, rather than simply writing a story to entertain?
Peter Carnavas: "I don't always mean to tackle big issues, but they are the sort of stories I end up writing. I think it is because I need to feel some sort of emotional connection to a story to pursue writing it. That doesn't mean the story has to be emotional itself, but I just like the idea of readers being able to delve into themes a little, to have layers of meaning working throughout the story. Of course, I love simple, fun stories as well - Quentin Blake is probably my biggest hero and his books are usually pure fun."

What are some of the things you have to think about when working your material into a book suitable for children?
PC: "Most of my ideas have a grown-up origin, such as a conversation I've had or a newspaper article I've read, so there is a bit of a process for me to fashion it into a children's story. It becomes easier when I start working on the illustrations, for no matter what the theme, my pictures are usually quite light and fanciful. This helps a lot.

"There are other little techniques I use to help the story appeal to children, such as the silent animal friends popping up on every page, or adding funny little things in the background. It's also important to cut out unnecessary words. I like to keep the text short and to the point."

When you write your books, do you begin with words or pictures?
PC: "I start with the idea then, after thinking about it for days, weeks or months, I write the text. I like to write the whole story in one sitting - once I've started it, I can't go to bed until it's done. I then start playing around with pictures, usually working out what the characters will look like, what they wear, what sort of animal will follow them around."

What, for you, is the best part of writing books for children? And the most difficult?
PC: "There are many good things about making books for children. I love reading the books to children at schools and getting their response. I'm always fascinated by the ideas they pick up from the stories, often things that I had never considered. On a personal note, it's immensely satisfying coming up with an idea that I think will work, then gradually bringing the characters to life. It can feel quite powerful at times, creating my own little people with their own little triumphs and tragedies.

"The most difficult parts are the boring bits like working out money stuff, though sometimes the most challenging thing is trying to draw something the way I see it in my head. My hand doesn't always do as it's told and I have to reach a sort of compromise between my imagination and my ability. It always works out in the end."

Any advice for wanna-be children's book writers out there?
PC: "I think it's important to get opinions of your work from people that you trust. If you are going to submit to a publisher, make sure you research the publishers well and choose one that suits the story you have written. Check out the Australian Writers' Marketplace for details on just about everything, and join up to the weekly online newsletter, Pass It On. You can find out everything you need to know from those two sources. Finally, just because something is hard, it doesn't mean it's impossible. Keep going."

You can find out more about Peter and his books at petercarnavas.com.

In good news, the engaging Sophia has given me two extra sets of Peter's Little Treasures collection, featuring Sarah's Heavy Heart, The Important Things, Last Tree In The City and Jessica's Box, to give away. Yes, a giveaway! The excitement. To enter, simply leave a comment below. Entries close at 6pm on Tuesday November 8, and Mr4 will draw two numbers at random at 7pm (before bed) on Tuesday November 8, with the winners announced on Wednesday November 9. Oh, and please friend the Fibro if you haven't already. Good luck!

Going part-time (hard habit to break)

2011-11-01T21:50:00.002+11:00

I'm going part-time. I've negotiated a flexible working arrangement with myself. I've put a business case together and showed myself how blogging five days a week is curtailing my other writing time. I've shown myself how cutting back to three days will allow me to focus on my other, sadly neglected projects. It's not an easy decision. I have discovered that I have a lot to say. (Actually, I'm not really surprised by that...) But I also know that there are other ways to say it. Other places.

It will take me longer to rack up my next 500 posts. And I'm okay with that. Five hundred posts at an average of 500 words apiece is 250,000 words. That's around three full-length novels. Written in 18 months. I take 200 posts out of that at an average of 500 words apiece and that's more than one whole book - well, here's hoping it's one whole book.

Even so, it's a hard habit to break.

I'll still be here, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, sharing the Fibro love. I'm just making some room. Opening some windows. At least for a while.

I hope you'll continue to pop round to visit.

[image: tumblr.com]

And the winner is...

2011-10-31T22:29:00.001+11:00

Thanks to everyone who entered my rather unusual giveaway. The entries have been read, the short list created, the votes tallied... etcetera etcetera. And Valerie Khoo, the powerhouse behind the Sydney Writers' Centre has put on her sorting hat and judged the worthy winner.

Now, if this were the Academy Awards or something, I'd be cracking jokes here in an effort to build tension. I would have announced the short list, who would be sitting in the auditorium wearing their friendly, self-deprecating, oh-no-it-won't-be-me (please-let-it-be-me) faces. The cameras would be closing in, hoping to catch a tiny glimpse of 'Good God NO! It can't be her' as the winner is announced.

But we're on a blog, in the Fibro. So I'll just get on with it, shall I?

The winner is Candice. Her winning entry read like this:

“We’re looking for Spark.”
“Really? Again?”
“Yeah. We last saw him walking along the fence”.
“In which direction?”
“Um, towards your house.”
“Okay kids. Let me just finish writing this article, then we’ll go look for Sparky together”.

Hi Allison,
I'd love to talk to you about developing my feature writing for magazines career. I'm about to move interstate with my husband, and this is the perfect opportunity to try and go full time with my writing. I've completed the SWC feature writing course, and I've had one article published in Good Reading Magazine and another about to be published in a local magazine.

I'd love (!!!!) to discuss the business of freelancing and talk to you about staying passionate about a topic weeks after pitching the original idea.

Thank you for this great competition and congrats with your 500th post!

You're an inspiration.

Regards, Candice

Note the creative use of 'spark' (which is what we were, after all, searching for), a little CV to show us that she's serious, clever insertion of past SWC experience (use everything you've got people) and a splendid-but-not-overdone ~~bit of sucking up~~ compliment at the end.

Perfect.

Can't wait to chat, Candice. Drop me an email via the contact me thingy on my Blogger profile and we'll get started!

Thanks to everyone who entered. If Candice gives me a good reference, I'll look at doing it again in a few months' time when I hit the big two years on the blog. In the meantime, look out for my first Facebook chat over the next few weeks. I've even got a few guest stars lined up! Pop over and join the Fibro's Facebook community for updates.

[image: prettylittlelies via weheartit]

Boo humbug: Not my party

2011-10-30T22:24:00.000+11:00

I struggle with Halloween. I didn't realise quite how much until I had a chance conversation with a friend at a kids' party today. She asked me if I was planning to take my boys trick or treating. No, I said, I was not. And then proceeded to outline, in detail, for five minutes, exactly why not.

Everyone has their 'event' gripe. For some it's the commercialism of Christmas and how the true meaning is lost. For others, it's Valentine's Day and overpriced red roses. My 'event' gripe is Halloween. Specifically, Halloween in Australia. In the US, Halloween makes perfect sense. There's tradition involved. It has a place.

In Australia, Halloween didn't really exist until, as best I can figure, about 2005, when retailers decided it was the perfect occasion to boost sales in the lead up to boosting sales over Christmas. When I was a kid, Halloween was something I read about in books. I wish in my heart of hearts that it had stayed there.

I've watched Halloween creep, pumpkin by pumpkin, ghost by ghost, into the Australian child's consciousness over the past few years. This year, however, it has really reached a tipping point. Hence the reason for my conversation this morning. My friend was struggling against her seven-year-old daughter's begging and pleading to go trick or treating. Part of my friend's struggle was internal. She likes the idea of taking her children out into the neighbourhood at night. To walk under the dark sky and see their world in a different way.

"Fine," I said. "Dress them up and take them for a walk. But don't go knocking on doors."

My boys know that we don't do Halloween in the Fibro. When they asked me why, I simply explained that it was another country's tradition, not ours, and we wouldn't be taking it up. So last year when a young family knocked on our door - at 8pm - I had no qualms about telling them sorry, we don't do Halloween. I was polite, I was cheerful, I was firm. The mother was not happy with me. But I am not about to start handing out lollies to other kids who knock on our door, when I've told my children that it's not something we do. What kind of hypocrite would that make me?

My elderly neighbours (and the Fibro has many) hate Halloween. It's not part of their world at all. They hate anyone knocking on their door at any time, let alone after dark. It may be anti-social, but it's also about security. Not all trick or treaters are friendly six year olds, out with their Mums.

I know this makes me very Bah Humbug (or Boo Humbug, the Halloween equivalent), but I don't think I care. Halloween is not my party.

Join the Weekend Rewind

2011-10-28T22:55:00.000+11:00

The Weekend Rewind, world's easiest linky, is on again at And Then There Were Four. Join Multiple Mum, me and scores of other fabulous Rewinders as we make our merry way through the month of March 2011. That's right. Old post.

All you do is link up your favourite post from March 2011 and then visit some of the other Rewind posts. Comments make the Weekend Rewind go round. That's right. Comment love.

My post this week is about the one thing I would change about myself above all others. I know. Such a difficult choice when I have SO many options.

What have you got for us? Link up and Rewind!

A stationery conversation

2011-10-27T21:46:00.001+11:00

Oh, hello. It's you.

I'm so sorry, I can't talk to you right now. I'm very busy.

Very, very busy.

Doing what, you ask? Er, research. Yes, that's it, research. Very busy with reserach.

Oh, you want to know what I'm researching? Always with the questions. Sigh. Well, if you must know, I'm investigating stationery. Yes, stationery. Stationery needs investigating.

What's that? Well, yes, I did do that feature a couple of years ago about how we crave beautiful stationery even though nobody seems to hand write anything anymore. What of it? Didn't you read to the end of that story. Don't you remember how important that small piece of tactile luxury is in a world that's increasingly online and untouchable?

Of course you do. Which is why I know you won't mind if I just leave you right here and go back to salivating over beautiful paper products. If you'd like to join me, you can start here:

Upon A Fold

or here: Little Branch

or here: Paddock Press

And if you are a fellow stationery addict, please share your favourite online shopping haunts. I'm in the mood for paper.

[image: Christmas cards from LeafJournals/Etsy]

The things you do (as a Mum)

2011-10-26T22:15:00.001+11:00

I spent some time this afternoon attempting to hit my four year old with a broom handle. Not exactly where I pictured myself when I fondly imagined my mothering years. Before you call DOCS, let me hasten to assure you that he asked me to undertake this exercise. Asked for it, I tell you.

Mr4 has taken up Little Ninjas. Following in the footsteps of, and standing alongside his big brother, in blue pyjamas. He was very keen on the whole thing, practising his sparring stance and his back-break falls with enthusiasm - until they brought out the stick.

We have reached the 'self-defence' module of this term's lessons, and part of this involves learning to dodge a large, red (admittedly well-padded) stick. Mr4 took one look at said stick and ran screaming for his mother - which strikes me as a sensible thing to do, but what would I know?

Apparently, he must learn to dodge the stick. To go one way when it goes the other. Or some such. I say he graduates with honours - he has learned to dodge the stick by running at breakneck speed in the opposite direction. However, it turns out that he will not get the 'stripe' on his belt for this particular module unless he faces the stick. Or 'The Stick' as it has become known in the Fibro. Like 'The Blob' or 'The Thing', only much thinner.

On the way home, after a serious discussion about how the correct response to the question 'what do you do when a stranger tries to drag you into a car?' is not, as Mr4 tried in class, 'get in the car' (accompanied by big smile), we talked about the importance of facing fears. About how fears only got bigger if you didn't turn around and look at them. How they grew in your mind while you had your eyes closed. Mr4 took that on board and then asked me to help him face down The Stick.

So, being the candidate for Mother of the Year that we know me to be, I spent some time practising with him this afternoon. I even thwacked the handle on the ground as it whistled past his ears (okay, came down somewhere in the vicinity of his body), so that he would not be frightened of any sound effects The Stick might emit. Even so, I'm not sure that I'm doing it right. When I come at him with a broom handle, he giggles. I clearly need to get a tougher expression as the wielder of The Stick.

We have until Monday to build up his courage enough to dodge The Stick on his own. Mr7 sits behind me, giving helpful big-brotherly advice like 'don't let it hit you'. Right. With a team like this on his side, how can Mr4 fail?

I also managed to slip some 'wrist escape' practice into the mix. This is the move you use when someone has you by the arm and is attempting to drag you into a car. It involves pulling up in the opposite direction from the person's grip. Or something. Mr4 was perturbed that I was trying to drag him into a pot plant, not a car, but I assured him the method was the same.

And I will sleep easier tonight knowing that if he learned nothing else today, he knows that the correct response if someone tries to drag you into a car is to run screaming to Mum.

Have you found yourself in an unusual situation as a Mum? And how did you have the 'stranger danger' talk without freaking out your child?

[image: WallDecalsAndQuotes/etsy]

Words can haunt you

2011-10-25T22:42:00.000+11:00

I got an email from a friend today. She lives on the other side of the world. We chit-chat about books and writing, friends and family. We've never actually met. But I'm always glad to hear from her.

Attached to the bottom of her email was the last email I sent her. Idly, I read through it, wondering what I'd waffled about (it had been a while between emails).

There was a lot of waffle. Then, about halfway down, these words:

"Don't give up. Persistence is the key to this whole mess."

I can't tell you how much I needed to read my own words of advice today.

[image: via weheartit.com]

The indelible marks of motherhood

2011-10-24T22:16:00.001+11:00

Today I realised, once again, that motherhood has left an indelible mark on me. I was walking down a flight of stairs. Counting each step out loud. And I was alone. Alone in the sense of 'no child with me'. Not alone in the sense of 'no audience at all for my lunatic behaviour'. Indeed, the older woman coming up said flight of stairs looked intensely amused by the whole event. She smiled and nodded. She understood. She was probably counting the stairs herself as she went up. But she's had enough time to learn to do it in her head again.

Counting out loud - everything from stairs to mushrooms as you bag them at the supermarket - is one of the indelible marks of motherhood. As is pointing out diggers on the side of the road, even when you're in the company of adult friends who, really, could not care less. Going to the toilet with the door left slightly ajar 'just in case' is one that I'm hoping I'll grow out of very soon (as, no doubt, is the rest of the household).

Carrying a water bottle everywhere. Keeping an emergency muesli bar in my bag. Keeping an emergency fire engine in my bag (never know when you'll need one of those).

Never leaving a building without asking everyone in the vicinity (stranger or no) if they need to wee before we go.

An underlying sense of anxiety that never quite bubbles over and never quite disappears.

These are but some of the marks that motherhood has left on me. What have you got?

[image: merriweathercouncil/etsy]

Signs of a misspent youth

2011-10-23T22:34:00.001+11:00

The Rugby World Cup is over (congratulations Kiwis!) but its legacy remains. Specifically, it serves, every four years, to remind me of my misspent youth. I sat last weekend with friends discussing locks, flankers, fly halfs, phases and lineouts - the language of my 20s, spent, as it was, in the company of a rugby club. Weekends lost to the joys of shivering on the sidelines, wondering if my second-rower boyfriend would end up concussed, or merely with new cauliflowers to add to his patch. Saturday nights spent drinking, dancing and carousing.

A misspent youth is a wonderful thing and comes in many guises. Both of my sisters are extremely good at pool, and one, I won't say which, is an absolute demon. Wipe-the-floor-with-you, pool-table-hustler good. Don't say you haven't been warned.

I have friends who can roll their own, er, cigarettes one-handed. Friends who should never be challenged to a game of poker, or 500, or even Scrabble for that matter. I know guys who can play every song that Kurt Cobain ever wrote - and not much else. Girls who drive boring four-cylinder A-to-B cars like they're still driving the six-cylinder, gas-guzzling rev-head mobile they cruised through their twenties in. People who will never need a Cocktail Recipe book because they have every classic cocktail recipe memorised - and can produce one on cue.

The older I get the more I understand the notion that you only regret the things you didn't do.

Come on, 'fess up - what's the sign of your misspent youth?

Have you met the Weekend Rewind?

2011-10-22T09:18:00.000+11:00

I'm joining in the Weekend Rewind this weekend, over with Multiple Mum. If you haven't taken part before, it's the world's easiest linky. All you have to do is link up an old post (this week you need one from February 2011) and share the comment love around.

My post this week is all about how much wood a woodchopper might chop if a woodchopper was to chop wood at the Fibrotown show. You can check out all the other links right here.

Why not join me?

500 posts at the Fibro - and a giveaway

2011-10-20T21:00:00.000+11:00

Today marks a big day at the Fibro. My 500th post. Good grief. That's a lot of words....

To celebrate, and given that we are talking about words (did you see that lovely segue there?), I have decided on a somewhat unusual giveaway. I'm giving away myself. To whit, two one-hour mentor sessions, frequency to be decided by the winner.

So, what do you get?
Two sessions of 60 solid minutes each by phone or Skype (I promise I will know how to use it by the time it all kicks off...). We can talk about any aspect of writing/freelance writing/ publishing/blogging/whatever that you like that falls within my scope of experience.

My strengths are freelance writing for magazine, newspaper and internet, writing non-fiction books (including non-fiction book proposals), experience in the ins and outs of publishing, fiction writing (to the extent that I've completed three full manuscripts and have another two-thirds done, but not to the extent that I've actually sold a book as yet), short story writing (I dabbled in this and sold three stories to magazines), knowledge of writing associations and networks that might be helpful to you, access to lots of other writers who will answer any questions I give to them. And I blog. A lot, apparently.

I'm not strong in the area of writing children's books or YA fiction, but I've had a go at pretty much everything else.

I am happy to read the first three chapters of any work you may have in progress and give you feedback, but, due to time restrictions, I can't do a blow-by-blow appraisal of your entire manuscript.

What do you need to do?
Be a friend of the Fibro if you're not already (and feel free to 'like' me on Facebook if we're not connected there). Comment below, answering the following question: How can I help you? Tell me what you're doing, tell me which part of my brain you'd like to pick, what I can do for you.

Who's judging?
The lovely Valerie Khoo from the Sydney Writers' Centre will choose a winner from a shortlist that I select. Just to ensure fairness and friendliness. We're looking for... spark.

Other details
Competition closes Sunday 30 October, 2011 at 9pm (AEST). Winner will be announced on Tuesday 1 November, 2011, at the usual time the Fibro posts go up (around 10.30pm). Australian residents only, sorry. ( Just in case the whole Skype thing doesn't work out...)

Okay, I think that's it. Let me know if anything needs clarifying. Good luck!

[image: via Pinterest]

Full heart, empty garage

2011-10-19T21:20:00.001+11:00

No more babies for me. Not that I was planning any. But today I gave away the pram, the cot, the portacot... the essential hardware is out the door. Part of me is okay with it. The operating system required to have a third child fell apart soon after the birth of Mr4. Very soon after. Like 10 minutes after the birth.

"That's it," I said, gazing on the perfection of my second little boy, relief that he was here, in good shape, flooding my bruised, battered and re-zippered body. "We're done."

The Builder, dreams of little girls with red hair dancing in his head, wasn't so certain. Hoped I'd change my mind, to be honest. But I didn't. I haven't.

For reasons that are too long, complicated and boring to go into in a blog post, I think another pregnancy would do my head in completely.

And, let's face it, I'm no spring chicken in the baby-making stakes. Any baby that I had today would be looking at a very grey-haired mum at the High School Graduation ceremony. Sixty may be the new 50, but try telling an 18 year old that.

So, that's it. The hardware is gone. The software has malfunctioned. The garage is empty.

I'm okay with it. I think. Part of me reminisces about tiny feet, the scent of freshly washed newborn skin, little starfish hands patting my arm while breastfeeding, those chubby layer-upon-layer baby thighs. Another part of me punches my fist in the air at the idea of never, ever spending another night walking the floor with a screaming scrap of misery. Or spoon-feeding mush to a hungry little mouth (oh, God, the monotony). Or sitting through another Wiggles video.

I'm glad I went there. But it's not necessarily a trip I need to take again.

End of an era.

What about you? Is your garage cluttered up with baby hardware? Are you done?

[image: via weheartit]

Fibro Q&A: Just how do you publicise a book?

2011-10-18T22:46:00.003+11:00

A few weeks ago I was sent a new book. It's called Swept (Love with a chance of drowning) by Torre DeRoche and is a memoir about how a chance meeting in a bar found Torre, a self-confessed 'city girl with a deep fear of water' sailing on the high seas with the (incredibly hot sounding) Ivan. It's a great yarn, full of adventure (and duct tape), with an evocative cover.

It's also self-published. Beyond the immediate questions that crowded to mind about the why of publishing your own print book in a world that seems to revolve around self-published Kindle editions, the next phase of questioning went immediately to the how of publicising such a book. How do you make your non-fiction book stand out in a field that seems to be shouting with a million voices without the safety net of a publishing house behind you?

I decided to ask an expert. Katie McMurray, the powerhouse behind KatieMac Publicity, specialises in media campaigns for authors, experts, businesses, festivals and awards. She used to publicise 200 authors a year for the Sydney Writers' Festival and is acknowledged as a leader in the field of book publicity in Australia.

The thing I love about Katie, mostly being on the end of her hard-fought campaigns to win editorial coverage for 'her' authors, is that she never sends me irrelevant stuff. She knows what I write about, she knows the publications and websites for which I write, and she hand-delivers me (okay, via email) updates about books (and therefore interview talent) that she thinks will come in handy for me. And they do.

She seemed like the perfect person to ask about how to publicise a non-fiction book. And she was.

What does a publicist actually do?
Katie McMurray: "A publicist achieves media coverage - stories in newspapers, magazines and online; radio and TV interviews. This is editorial, not advertising. We find what it is that best tells a story about our client and pitch that to journalists and producers. The best publicists have a consummate understanding of media and know what media are looking for. It's like a combination of translation, story telling and sales."

The general consensus seems to be that books are notoriously difficult to publicise - do you agree? What is the best traditional medium for finding readers?
KM: "All publicity work is challenging. We are competing for space and air time to get our clients media coverage. If you are an expert and you have a new book and something to say, media will give you the time of day. But you need to put your best foot forward and not presume that someone will want to interview you just because you've got a new book. You need to give them other compelling reasons to talk to you.

"In the book game, the saying goes that 'radio sells books'. I think it takes a mix of well-targeted media, plus a great marketing plan (public speaking, newsletters, blogs etc) to get a book right out there."

Most publishers now seem to expect writers to blog/tweet/Facebook... Are blogs really an effective marketing tool for authors?
KM: "A blog is a way to keep you connected to the people who most love your work. It's a relationship tool. From a media and publicity point of view, a blog keeps your thinking fresh and keeps people interested in you. If my author-client is writing a regular blog, then I have regular new ideas to pitch to the media."

Is it possible for authors/writers to overshare on social media and their blogs? Where do you think the line is?
KM: "I've not come across too much of this. I publicise non-fiction books by people who are experts. They tend to really know their stuff and their followers want to hear it."

What are your top three tips for an author wishing to publicise a book?
KM: "Number one, have something to say and say it powerfully. Two: Be somebody. Putting a book out does not mean the media will pay instant attention, so make sure you're active in your industry and business through public-speaking, workshops, blogging etc. Three: have your book professionally edited and talk to as many people as you can before you sign with a publisher or spend your money self-publishing."

You can find out more about KatieMac Publicity here and follow her on Twitter here. You can find out more about Torre DeRoche and her book Swept here (including how to buy) and follow her on Twitter here.

Update: the 'why' of self-publishing becomes clearer. I'm very excited to report that Torre has been offered a publishing deal and is now represented by Elizabeth Evans from JVNLA in New York. What can I say but 'go girl!'.

Making time for friends

2011-10-17T22:05:00.000+11:00

After reading this post (by Nicole at Planning With Kids) at the CareerMums blog, I have decided to take a night off. I am going out for a 'noice bistro meal' and a movie with some mates from the school community. We have been talking about it for ages... and now we're finally doing it.

I think there's a misconception as a mum that you need an 'occasion' to go out. That it needs to be an 'event'. With frocks, and heels, and pearls and stuff. A la Sex and The City. I think that is one reason that perhaps we don't go out enough. You don't need an event. You just need to get out of the house.

The Builder laughed when I told him that I was going out... on a Monday. After all, who goes out on Monday night? Mums do, that's who. It's not the coolest night to go out, I agree. But I'm going out. With friends. And that's cool enough.

When was the last time you went out with friends? Do you do it often enough?

[I appreciate that this image has little to do with a night out in Fibrotown...]

The Guest Post conundrum

2011-10-16T22:18:00.001+11:00

I was working my way through a guest post (I'll link to it later in the week) tonight, remembering all the time a conversation that I'd had recently with Sister C:

C: "I read your guest post at [insert name of fabulous blog] today," she said. "It was good. But..."

Me: "But????" (There may have been a hint of defensive paranoia in the tone. Maybe.)

C: "Your guest posts never sound as 'you' as your blog posts do."

Me: "Hmmm." Ruminations. "I think it's because I'm writing in someone else's space. So it feels more like a column or an article. So I immediately switch to a more professional voice. A magaziney voice, I guess."

C: "Like a broadcast voice versus an intimate voice."

Exactly. When I write here, I feel as though I'm writing in a room. One part of me is aware (always aware) that it's a public room, but it feels like a live, unplugged gig. As soon as I step into another room, I'm more aware of the audience, so I step up a little, put on my stage face and plug into some electricity.

On someone else's blog, I feel like the support act, warming up for the show that everybody really wants to see (the blogger that they love), singing my heart out to a room full of people who are all talking amongst themselves and trying to time their toilet breaks so as not to miss the main act.

One of the first things I learned about blogging, via my endless, obsessive reading in the first few months, was about the importance of guest posting in helping to build a blog. It makes sense. A guest post introduces you and your style to a whole new audience. One that, hopefully, will like enough of what they see to follow you home. For that reason, I always say yes when I'm asked to guest post. If someone is kind enough to put me on their marquee (and offer M&Ms (red only) for my rider), I'm going to say yes, thanks for having me, and do my best to deliver them a show-stopping post.

But I won't say that I don't get stage fright about it.

How do you feel about guest posting? Do you love it or do it because you feel you should?

[image: button by BuyTheLightOfTheMoon/etsy}

A blog is a chain made of 1000 links (Happy SITS Day to me!)

2011-10-13T15:22:00.001+11:00

Back in the early days, when I'd started this blog on a dare and was beginning to work out that blogging is not writing and that it pays to invite the neighbours in for barbecues, I found myself on a site called The SITS Girls. The basic message: the secret to success is support. I liked it. I visited a lot. I signed up to be the featured blogger, to experience the joy of a SITS Day. I got busy. I visited more sporadically. I got busier, what with the Twitter and the Facebook. I became someone who popped by occasionally.

And then I got an email last week to say that my number had come up. My SITS Day was imminent. So I did what any normal person would do under the circumstances - I panicked.

Fortunately, I come from a family of bloggers. I emailed Sister B and Sister C (we are The Alphabet Sisters, A, B and C, in that order) and wondered aloud if I should have a spruce up. A makeover. Would I be good enough for such VIP guests? They laughed (they do that a lot when I make such suggestions, any suggestion come to think of it...).

"Didn't you write a post about this?" said B. "You Do What You Do."

So here I am. If we haven't met before, I'm Allison. I'm a freelance writer, a mother and a Mrs. I have two boys, Mr7 and Mr4 (aka Woody and Buzz), and a husband named The Builder (well, not really, but he likes the mystery). We all moved from The Big Smoke to Fibrotown three years ago, and we love it. I write about writing, being a work at home mum and ... whimsy. Sometimes I just write.

My blog was recently described as a 'mum-and-manuscript' blog and I liked that so much I've decided to own it. Anybody want to join my niche?

[Image: This 'Birds of a Feather' wall decal from urbanwalls/etsy is what I think bloggers might look like in the wild...]

My world-famous, award-winning blog post

2011-10-12T22:10:00.001+11:00

Have you noticed that there's no such thing as an ordinary, run-of-the-mill, average-beyond-imagination pie anymore? Or even a Quite Nice one?

Every pie shop or bakery you drive past features 'world famous', 'legendary' or 'award-winning' pies. I know this because on our drive down the coast to our holiday destination, we drove past at least three of these signs.

We even ate an 'award-winning' pie in Pambula, NSW. It was a very nice pie. But it didn't come with a trophy or have a blue ribbon stuck to it, and I would be hard-pressed to pick it out of a pie line-up.

Just what makes a pie 'world famous' or even 'legendary'? Who decides such things? Is there a 'world famous' list? Does word-of-mouth make it so? Or does it come down to the fact that nobody stops for a Quite Nice pie anymore?

Is there a world famous pie near you? Or even a Quite Nice one?

[image: perhaps you'd prefer a Barbie-sized pie, like this one from VansdollTreasures/etsy]

The best organising tip I ever received (and actually use)

2011-10-11T21:51:00.000+11:00

The Builder suggested I add point 11 to yesterday's list of the top 10 things I learned on holidays. His suggestion: no matter how long or fabulous the holiday, the second day back at work is always hard. I agree, but told him that nobody does 11 point lists. They just look wrong. So I came up with another one, to make it a nice round dozen.

12. The length of the holiday will be in direct proportion to the time it takes one to unpack one's bags after one returns home. To whit: if you go on holidays for one week and return on Sunday, you can be pretty sure those bags will still be sitting there come the following Sunday. And they will always contain three times as many clothes as you ever actually wore on said holiday.

But, having come up with that one, I decided that I would take a stand this time. I would unpack those bags. Today. I would... I would... I just...

I needed help. So I turned to a book sent to me recently by one of my favourite contacts, Lissanne Oliver. I call on Lissanne when I need help with the organisation/decluttering/simplifying end of the feature story spectrum. She is, quite simply, great at it, and gives good quote. Win/win for me. The only downside to our conversations is that she's usually saying things like 'People need to realise they can't work surrounded by piles of paper, lip balms, paper clips, nail scissors, random cables, books that need reading, articles that need referencing...' right while I'm sitting at a desk surrounded by all of those things.

Lissanne's book Sorted! is an action-stations guide to being organised. It has everything you need to clear space in your home, right down to the time-frames required to fulfill each step she outlines. Admittedly, there is not a section devoted to Unpacking After Your Holiday but much of the focus is on clearing living spaces - and given that the unpacked bags were interrupting a) traffic flow and b) air flow, I was able to use Lissanne's editing, filing and storing techniques to get the job done. Okay, half done. The Misters are now able to find their socks and undies for the morning. Me, maybe not so much.

It's progress, though, and that's what counts. Oh, and the best tip Lissanne ever gave me for a story (as in one that I actually use all the time)? Open your mail over the bin. Dump the stuff you don't need. Keep the stuff you do. Guaranteed to reduce the amount of paper entering your house.

Lissanne Oliver is joining forces with two international productivity and organising experts for the Six Steps To Your Organised Life workshops in Sydney (October 22) and Melbourne (October 29). Full details here. You can find out more about Lissanne's book and her organising work here.

10 things I learned on my holiday

2011-10-10T23:07:00.001+11:00

Over an intimate sushi lunch today, Mr7 and I were discussing his imminent return to school tomorrow. He is ambivalent about the whole prospect. I am somewhat more excited. We talked about what he might have to do this week. He has choir practice, environment club, library... But what about in actual class?

"I suppose we'll have to write a recount about what we did on our holidays," he said, staring into his soy sauce with an Eeyore-like expression.

"We had fun!" I said.

"We did," he agreed. "But it's not much fun writing about it."

I tend to agree. The joy of the holiday is in the actual having of the holiday. But given it's a slow blog night, I am going to lead the way with my own Holiday Recount. Ten things I learned on my holiday.

1. Holiday houses that are advertised as 'complete with everything' are never complete with sharp knives. There will be a knife. Which will be blunt. And you will cut your hand off attempting to slice onions with it.

2. Holiday houses that show ocean views on their websites will have ocean views... filtered through a stand of trees. This is excellent for bird watchers. Of course, the house next door to yours will enjoy uninterrupted, panoramic views of rolling waves and endless sands (see image, shot from out the front of the house next door...).

3. Other People always seem better prepared for holidays than you are. No matter how prepared you are. They will arrive earlier, settle in better, have wetsuits for water slides when it's 17 degrees celsius, have boogie boards, skate boards, scooters, bicycles, surfboards, ski boards, the right shoes, the right board shorts, the right everything. You will forget the ball. The Jenga. The binoculars. The [insert everything else you remember once you're an hour from home].

4. Other People are prepared to queue for hours to go on a Toboggan slide. Bad parents like you will suggest an ice cream and a game of Putt Putt instead.

5. You will play Putt Putt golf. Even if you never, ever play Putt Putt golf, or consider it, at any other time, you will play Putt Putt golf on holidays. And it will be fun. Note: beware mentioning the words 'Whip your butt' to your spouse before realising that any Putt Putt skills you may once have had were left behind with your 10-year-old self.

6. You will sit through a children's movie. As the entire theatre squirms, and wriggles, and crunches, and crackles, and whispers, and giggles, and snorts, and wiggles in the darkness around you, you will strain your ears to catch the storyline to whichever Holiday Blockbuster has been dumped in theatres. It will be Smurftastic.

7. It takes longer to get there than to get home. Whether you are driving to your destination, or riding your bike behind a seven-year-old three-quarters of the way through a 10km bike ride. This may or may not be because it's downhill on the way home. If you are four, you will not care how far it is in either direction because you will sit in your car seat or coast on your Tagalong bike without a care in the world.

8. You will swim. It may be below freezing, it may be raining, it may be on the verge of snowing, but if you have small children and there is a pool, you will swim.

9. The sun always comes out as you're packing the car to go home. Murphy's Law. Even if it's rained all week (which, I hasten to add, it did not), the sun will blaze in all it's shiny, golden glory when it's time to go home.

10. You will have fun. So much fun. And come home relaxed, recharged and ready to slog through until the next holiday.

So that's my effort. I look forward to comparing it with Mr7's work tomorrow. I suspect his will focus on the $8 bow and arrow set that he bought from the local $2 shop on our holiday and which won his heart to the exclusion of all else. His teachers will note that Other People had better holidays.

What would you add to my list? Tell me what you know about family holidays.

Fibro Q&A: The keys to surviving (and thriving) as an author

2011-10-09T22:34:00.001+11:00

Writing is a lonely business. You spend a lot of time on your own, with your thoughts, and your insecurities. For this reason, every fledgling novelist needs friends. Good friends. Friends who understand what you're trying to say when you send them an email that simply says 'sigh'. Friends who will talk you down from the ceiling when you're waiting, and waiting, and waiting to hear back about a manuscript. I am lucky to have several such friends, one of whom is novelist, author and all-round good egg Allison Rushby.

Allison and I were brought together by an RWA Conference and the fact that we both have two Ls in our name. This kind of stuff is important. She is the author of nine books, both women's fiction and Young Adult, and has recently released a Kindle book called Die, Yummy Mummy, Die, which is a compilation of the very funny columns about motherhood that she used to write for Brisbane's Courier Mail newspaper.

I decided it was the perfect time to invite her to the Fibro to discuss the keys to surviving (and thriving) as an author in these tumultuous publishing times.

Given your long (and varied) experience in traditional publishing, are you excited by digital publishing or worried?
Allison Rushby: "A little bit of both, I think. It's very difficult at this point to see how publishing will be operating ten years from now, so this is worrying. The exciting part, however, is the knowledge that it's only going to become easier to reach more readers in all kinds of territories. The digital distribution of books will make a huge impact in Australia, in particular, I think. Distribution has always been an issue for us as our country is so large, but with a relatively small population for that size. Digital distribution will revolutionise publishing in Australia, but how this will work for booksellers, publishers, authors and agents right now is difficult to say."

You've chosen to put out your own Kindle book - why did you choose to go that route rather than bring it out through a publishing house?
AR: "Choosing to release Die, Yummy Mummy, Die straight to Kindle was an easy choice. It wasn't a book that a publisher would really be able to publish, for a start. It's a compilation of 20 of my favourite Desperate Housewife columns, which used to appear in Queensland's Courier Mail newspaper. I wasn't really interested in publishing more than 20 columns, as I wanted to stick to my, and my readers', absolute favourites. Even though the column ended some time ago, I'm still asked about it quite a lot and every so often a mum will come up to me in the supermarket, or a car park, and say something like, 'I'm a bad mum, too!'. I love that (I think) and so this is a book just for them."

What do you think are the keys for authors to survive/thrive in the current publishing climate?
AR: "Probably versatility and being open to change. I've had to try my hand at different genres over the years to stay afloat, especially because this is my fulltime job and I need to keep working. When opportunities come up, I tend to grab them. For example, just last week I pitched a six-episode young adult e-serial through my agent to a publisher who was looking for something Downton Abbey-esque. I think there's a perception that successful authors write one book every one or two years and that's it. But the reality is very different for most fulltime authors. Pretty much every author I know has a sideline in writing for different areas, or teaching others to write, etc."

How do you see yourself focussing your efforts in the future?
AR: "I'm currently writing a travel memoir and I have to admit that I just adore writing non-fiction. It's an area in which I'd like to write more. However, I also really enjoy writing Young Adult fiction. While I started out in women's fiction, I think my voice lends itself more to the YA genre. I have a YA book out in February next year in the USA and have also written another one that will hopefully follow close behind. I had a ball writing the first 5000 words of the Downton Abbey-esque e-serial, so while I love the non-fiction, I think I'll have to find a way to keep writing in all kinds of different areas (finally having both my kids in school is certainly helping).

Your top three tips for writers hoping to be published in fiction?
AR: "1. Simply start writing. This may sound obvious, but so many people think they need to find a large block of time, the perfect writing space, or the most original, amazing idea ever before they start writing. None of these things are true. All you need is a computer and your backside on a chair (you don't even need a computer - a piece of paper and the stub of a pencil will do!).

2. Keep writing. Another obvious one, but sometimes the obvious eludes us in creative endeavours, it seems! Writing fiction is a skill and, like any skill, the more you practise, the better you get. Think of your first manuscript as an apprenticeship. It's only a learning tool. Once you finish that first manuscript, write another one. I see so many writers pause for more than a few years trying to sell that first manuscript, instead of moving on to writing the next one. If they end up selling that first one, that's a fantastic bonus (and there's another waiting to be published right behind it!). But don't waste any time between manuscripts. Keep going.

3. Write what you like to read. I see a lot of writers setting out to try and write what's hot. But by the time you've written your vampire/wizard novel, the trend is well over. What you love reading is a really good indication of what you'll probably be good at, and enjoy, writing."

You can buy Die, Yummy Mummy, Die here. Allison blogs at Keep Calm and Carry Vegemite about her adventures as a newly minted expat in England, and you can find out more about her Young Adult fiction (including the new releases) here.

Fibro Q&A: Now here's a BIG idea - start your own magazine

2011-09-29T22:26:00.000+10:00

I first 'met' Jo Pollitt and Lilly Blue when they got in touch with me sometime last year to ask a few random questions about blogging (none of which, from memory, I could answer...). Further investigation unearthed the fact that they were starting a new magazine for children, featuring art and words and wonder. I admit I struggled to get my head around the idea when I first read about it, but I did love the images they put up on their blog and Facebook page.

I received a copy of the very first issue of BIG Kids Magazine in the post this week and couldn't believe how beautiful it was. Mr7 couldn't believe how cool it was... he has spent a lot of time this week leafing through its pages, and is already planning his submission for the next issue.

I invited Jo and Lilly to the Fibro to answer a few questions about how the magazine started - and why they thought the world needed BIG Kids Magazine right now.

What made you decide the time was write for a new magazine?
Jo Pollitt: "Firstly, I wanted to buy one that my own son would love and couldn't find it! (Now he is the 'senior' editor of BIG.) Both Lilly and I believe that kids are so much smarter than the commercially driven work that is generally projected at them en masse. There are very few Australian magazines for kids that are responsive to the imagination of a child's world (outside of games, movies, and TV characters), and we felt that it was imperative that there be a choice in the market that reflected that world with more of an open and challenging viewpoint. And that would also be cool. Because kids are cool."

Why a children's creative-arts magazine?
JP: "We are artists ourselves and this is our area of expertise. We are also voracious magazine readers! Many little girls I know want to grow up to be dancers, and are always very interested when they find out I am actually a dancer and Lilly is an artist. That these professions are our 'day jobs' means we know some incredible creative artists and had a feeling they would be generous when it came to sharing art and ideas side by side with kids (and they are!).

More than ever before, the world needs great thinkers and visionaries and we feel it is our responsibility to encourage, value and provoke creative thinking and curiosity in kids. Through the BIG pages, hierarchies of art are broken down and new conversations emerge between the work of kids and artist grown-ups."

What was the hardest part of getting the whole project started?
JP: "Without doubt, the formalising of the business-related paperwork and the defining of our current partnership has been the hardest. I had not seen Lilly for 12 years (we have only skyped once and have still not met) so the working out of roles and sharing of dreams and future imaginings has been an extremely intense journey! The creative rigour between us is invigorating, and allows us to plough through the less fun parts. We both share a work ethic that is relentless and have high expectations of the other, which provokes questions, the occasional cross-fire and many shared long-distance celebrations. As mothers who work from home in baby sleep times and after hours, it is always a challenge to meet those expectations!"

Why did you decide to print the mag, rather than doing an e-zine as per trend?
JP: "We wanted kids to be able to hold the artwork in their hands, to be able to scribble an immediate response (the pages are matt and fab for random responses!). We wanted parents and kids to be able to sit side by side and share pictures, stories and ideas. We want it to be able to be thrown on the playroom floor, to be picked up or tossed about at will (it has a sturdy spine!). We wanted the magazine to be available in 'play time' and not relegated to the 'screen time' culture that is already so pervasive. We want to encourage a love of reading, a love of art, of dreaming, and provoke some questions about the big world we all share."

I notice that the theme of the next issue is Treasure Islands - how can parents and kids get involved?
"Draw us a map of all the places you have been - they can be real and/or imagined - and send to submit@bigkidsmagazine.com (there are guidelines on the website) and we will feature it on the BIG blog and possibly even in the actual pages of the magazine. Register to participate in the BIG child artist response project (CARP), and an artist will create something in response to your child's map-themed artwork with the two works then published side by side. Or write to Luca (info@bigkidsmagazine.com) with specific things you'd like to see in the magazine or tell him the things you like/don't like in this one."

You can subscribe to BIG Kids Magazine here. You'll love it (and the kids will too).

PS: I'm taking a little blogcation while I enjoy some time with my boys next week. I'll be back on Monday 10 October - see you then!

Does anyone know anyone who... wants to be called G-Mom?

2011-09-28T21:30:00.000+10:00

As I've written before, finding case studies and 'real people' to answer random questions for feature stories is a lot easier in the age of the internet than it was in the early days of my career. You can cast your net a lot wider - and keep your friends at the same time.

But it's not a one-way street. The worst part about being a journalist is that many of your friends are also journalists - so you're in the front row when they're casting about for 'real people' themselves. This is much like being in the front row at a Comedy Event. You can be pretty sure you're going to be embarrassed at some point.

Sometimes, however, it's easy. When my friend David Astle, who writes the Wordplay column in the Spectrum section of the Sydney Morning Herald gets in touch, you can be fairly complacent. He's never going to be looking for people to strip off to show the world 'What real women look like'. I need more friends like David.

Anyhoo, David contacted me, looking for people to share, wait for it, the names by which their parents go when it comes to Grandparenting. I will let him explain:

The issue relates to how more and more Boomers seem to begrudge the ageing allusion of such old-skool monikers as Grandma, or Grandfather. What titles/names have your own folks and in-laws adopted, now with Buzz and Woody on the scene?

Who got Pop and Nan? Does either shirk at the 'oldness' of Gran or Gramps? Are first names preferred, or have you conspired some other family-fied handle? Or maybe you've heard some cute variations out there.

The more I looked into this, the more interested I became - did you know, for instance, that there's a list of 'trendy grandparent names' at www.grandparents.com... Grandma and Nanna have been dumped in favour of, wait for it, Mombo, Gidget, G-Mom and Pebbles, among others. If she wanted to be 'playful' on the other hand, she could be Bamboo, Boomie or, um, Muff. The Grandad side of the spectrum includes such monikers as Mellowman, Granite and Slick.

The pressure.

At our house, The Builders' parents went 'old-skool' (and Dutch) with Oma and Opa, while my Dad is called Pops because that's what we've always called him (too many Archie comics in our youth, perhaps?) and Mum went for Gran. Easy, cool, dignified.

How do you parents and in-laws choose to play it?*

*I know that David will be eagerly reading the comments section of this post, looking for information for his column. If you'd rather David didn't use your response in his Wordplay column on this subject, please say so. We know how sensitive Gran-and-Pop politics can be... Otherwise, your comment may end up being part of David's story.

[image: luckily, these signs from primsnposies/etsy can be customised...]

Things no woman should see

2011-09-27T22:08:00.000+10:00

There are things no woman should see. Things that, once seen, simply cannot be unseen. Things that, once seen, require action.

Things like the tops of the kitchen cupboards. Those very high ones. Wa-a-y up there out of sight. If you've never looked at the top surface of those cupboards, I suggest, very firmly, that you simply do not.

Today I looked upon the tops of my cupboards. Tonight I spent an hour perched precariously on the benchtops, clinging on by my fingernails, scrubbing away at the collected grime of, apparently, centuries of kitchen use. Dear God it was ugly.

My new kitchen arrives tomorrow. The contents of my old kitchen are currently reposing on the dining table. Actually, scrub that, on, under and around the dining table. I unearthed a chocolate-making kit that I never knew existed. The large stockpot that I was sure I had, but that had not been seen in living memory. Some really nice little bowls and things for entertaining - clearly we haven't been friendly enough in the Fibro.

And I will go to bed tonight knowing that the tops of my kitchen cupboards are white. It's a saintly kind of feeling, I have to admit.

So... dare I ask? What would you add to the list of Things No Woman Should See?

Making it up as I go along

2011-09-26T20:22:00.000+10:00

I'm in an awkward position right now. While I'm not a plotter or a planner by any stretch of the imagination, usually, with writing, I at least have a good idea of what I'm going to say. A notion. A hint.

But not right now. Right now I'm sitting in front of the computer and just plain... hoping. That something useful will appear. I have a deadline. I have a word count. I have half of what I need. I just don't have a clear picture of where the other half will take me.

I'm not sure whether to feel terrified or elated. It could be good. Really good. Or it could all end in tears around the 6000-word mark, when I realise I've backed myself into a corner and can't resolve the ending.

All I can do is trust that it will all work out. And make it up as I go along.

Do you write like this? Do you realise it makes you just a little bit crazy?

[image: I think I need one of those cool lockets from polarity/etsy]

First steps in two-tone shoes

2011-09-25T21:36:00.000+10:00

The boys and I went bowling today. In honour of Mr7's soccer presentation, they donned two-toned shoes and slipped and slid their way across the over-polished floors to, well, dump their bowling balls down the lane. Mr4, who'd never bowled in his life, managed a spare with his first two dribbling offerings. And then could never quite match his own success. Once he realised that every bowl would not be greeted with shouts and cheers from the crowd, he lost interest. He did quite enjoy the enormous thump that ensued when he threw his ball, with two hands, from a great height.

In his defense, they were big balls.

Mr7 employed a cunning mix of unorthodox techniques during his games. From an attempt at an overarm throw (not repeated) to a shimmy-shake arrangement that resulted in the ball ricocheting wildly from one bumper to another to a rather spectacular effort where he appeared to forget to let go of the ball and followed it halfway down the lane on his side, his efforts were entertaining, to say the least.

I do have memories of my own first-ever attempt at bowling. We were visiting my grandparents in Far North Queensland during one of our Christmas odysseys. I'm not sure how old I was, but I had received, along with sisters B and C, a rather fetching jumpsuit arrangement for Christmas and we all insisted on wearing them bowling. That's it. I don't remember how the bowling went, but I do recall being dressed in a harem-pant jumpsuit with a little tie around the neck. Which did not match the two-tone shoes.

The boys will probably not remember what they were wearing today. But Mr7 will remember the two trophies that he received for his first (and probably last) soccer season. And Mr4 will remember that he did not receive two trophies. In fact, any trophies at all. I know this because he repeated this fact over and over all the way home.

Are you a ten-pin bowler? What do you remember of visits to the lanes when you were young?

Famous last words: "I'll write my novel when..."

2011-09-22T22:36:00.000+10:00

I was watching Grand Designs the other night when, unusually, I found myself shouting at the television. I have been known to shout at the television in the past, but not generally when genteel Kevin is doing his thing. The reason for my vociferous response?

A nice man was building a nice house in France. Part of his reason for creating said house was to install a writing room. Said room was at the top of the house with a wall of windows showcasing a view of rolling French countryside. It would be, he said, the perfect place in which to write His Novel. I remembered a conversation I once had with Australian novelist Allison Rushby about a similar man with a similar dream on that other genteel show Escape To The Country.

"It doesn't matter what's out the window," she said. "You're either going to write it or you're not."

Which is pretty much what I found myself shouting at the television the other night. I then went on to expand on the topic while The Builder watched me, slightly bemused. When I ran out of steam, we resumed polite watching.

At the end of the show, Kevin returned to the house, seven years after it had been built. The man's writing room was now comfortably furnished with not only his desk, but an exercise bike, some boxes, several piles of newspapers, bookshelves, a keyboard, a pile of bags... oh wait, half of that is what's in my office. He had written a book. A guide to buying houses in the French countryside.

I am not disparaging the nice man's dream, nor his efforts. But every time I hear someone say "I'll write my book when..." it makes me wonder if they'll ever actually get round to putting the words on paper.

When I dream of my perfect writing life, it involves a little weatherboard studio, open and spacious, with big French doors opening onto a little verandah. There are big, blowsy, old-fashioned David Austin roses involved. The room is always free of clutter, clean, white, fresh. Small boys are conspicuous by their absence.

If I waited until this place materialised, I would never write anything. So I sit in my cluttered (all my own fault, I know) office, in my Fibro, with my family happily rumbling around me. The view is of my struggling vege patch. On hot, still nights, I can hear my neighbour snoring (true story - the first time I heard it, I thought there was a large, dark beast outside my window and was totally freaked out).

Author Fiona Palmer has been sharing pictures of the writing spaces of some fab Australian novelists. I love having a look. Some of them have beautiful views. Others work at the dining table. Some are out in a paddock. Others in offices that would not look out of place in an accountancy practice. For the most part, they involve a desk and a chair and a wall.

To me, it's not the place that makes the writing special. It's the writing that makes the place special.

What do you think?

[image: Flickr.com]

Where in the world does it all come from?

2011-09-21T22:19:00.000+10:00

I found out yesterday that my new kitchen cupboards and benchtops will be installed next week. The thought fills me with great joy. Unfortunately, the promise came with a rider. I will need to empty said kitchen cupboards on Tuesday. In school holidays.

The thought fills me with horror.

We have only been in the Fibro three years. I did a massive cull of all kitchenware when we moved here. Why am I so scared? It's not like I've been randomly buying homewares to fill the space. No new kitchen appliances have made their way into the house (because I already have the best). Except for Cornelius the Popasaurus, but he doesn't take up much space.

No, the problem is simply this. I remember how hard it was last time. Before I even accumulated the jar collection. Before the beer cooler collection began to breed under the kitchen sink. Before the nine Christmas melamine cups and plates (one for all the nieces and nephews) took up residence with the Tupperware and other plastics. Before I decided I needed a zester, an extra colander and eight large white bowls.

Where does it all come from? And, more importantly, where in the world am I going to put it all when it comes out of the cupboards?

[image: I wish my jar collection looked as stylish as this strand of Mason Jar Lights from sweetteaclothingco/Etsy]

The joy of text

2011-09-20T22:27:00.000+10:00

Mr4 ~~endured~~ enjoyed another excursion today. This time to the library. I asked him this morning if he was excited. He looked at me as though I'd lost my marbles. "It's the library, Mum," he said. "We go there all the time."

Oh yes.

Mr7 suggested that this time Mr4 and his friends might get to have a look beyond the bookshelves. "When we went in year one, we got to go downstairs," he confided.

"Oh, what was there?" asked Mr4, hope in his voice.

"That's where they keep the boxes of books," said Mr7.

"Oh," said Mr4. His excitement was still not palpable.

He didn't have much to say about his excursion on the way home from preschool. Just that he was tired. That someone had read them a story. They'd eaten fruit - apples and carrots. "Carrots aren't fruit," said Mr7. "They don't have seeds."

I could see Mr4 trying to come up with a rebuttal to this, but he could think of nothing.

Silence.

"I did learn one thing today at the library, Mum," he said.

Oh?

"Butterflies smell with their feet," he announced, triumphant.

And, do you know what? They do.

I tell you, these excursions are true learning experiences. For everyone.

What new thing did you learn today?

[image: Erin Nicole/Beauty In Everything]

On hold, til death (or email) do us part

2011-09-19T21:56:00.000+10:00

Apparently, marriage is contagious. I discovered this today whilst having my second of four conversations with my newly appointed Senior Advisor from Apple. My problem has been escalated and I am in the hands of a very knowledgeable man. He is. I know because I couldn't understand half of what he was talking about and yet he managed to guide me through the process of booting, rebooting, organising a test user, arranging a test email account, removing an application from a package, installing an application from a package and more. I still don't have email, but I feel pretty sure that we are getting closer all the time. If nothign else, I am convinced that all avenues are being exhausted.

All of this booting and rebooting and unpackaging leaves a lot of dead time on a phone call. You know that time while you're waiting for the wheel to spin around and the whirring to stop and you can hear each other breathing down the line. So we chatted. About how lots of guys in the office are getting married or are newly married. About how they chat about the various challenges. About how the older guys in the office laugh at them and tell them they'll be fully trained and domesticated in a few years.

It was a lovely human moment in the middle of a technological nightmare. Surrounded by bits and bytes and incomprehensible gobbledy gook, it was just... nice. He even managed to take my mind of my major stress for a moment or two as we discussed the use of snoring as a weapon during marital disputes. I suggested he use the snore power for good not evil, but we couldn't actually work out a good use for snoring.

There's no real point to this story. Except to say that I'm (hopefully) nearly there. And I really appreciate the assistance - and the humanity - of the geeks at Apple. Computer AND people skills. No wonder he's married.

[image: LicoriceWits/etsy]

The best day ever*

2011-09-18T22:29:00.000+10:00

Small decisions can have big repercussions. I bought my iPhone. I walked around with it in my pocket for 24 hours, getting it out randomly to, you know, check it. When I explained to Maxabella that I was doing this, she laughed hysterically. In fact, we both did.

"You know how when you get your first car and you walk around swinging your keys just so everyone knows you've got one, even though they don't care because they've had one for 100 years?"

"That was you?" she chortled.

"That was me." We had to put the phone down briefly while we rolled around on our respective floors.

On Saturday, I decided it was time to join the 21st century and 'sync' my iPhone. I plugged it all in and was told, very kindly and sympathetically, by my iMac that my operating system wasn't up to the task. All was not lost as I had an 'upgrade' disk, which had come with the computer but never been used. When you're a Luddite like me, you use only a fraction of your computer's capability.

I read the instructions, followed them, backed up my files, hesitated, read the instructions again and inserted the disk. The instructions made it all sound so simple.

You know where this is going, don't you?

Suffice to say that the following 24 hours of my life were filled with dread, uncertainty, horror, shock, stress and the words 'we're going to have to erase your hard drive and then we'll see what we can recover'. About halfway through Saturday, I posted the following status update: "I feel ill. Like a Dementor has sucked out all my hope and happiness. I'm needing me a Patronus right now. In the shape of an Apple."

The good people at the Apple Call Centre (most of whom seem to have names beginning with J) did their best. They didn't laugh at me once. The only time they left me feeling less than reassured was when the first guy said 'oh wow, I've never come across that before'. Not really what you want to hear as your computer dies a slow death in front of you. As an aside, I did back-up. I just didn't back-up my system properly. I thought I was doing it right. I wasn't. So if there's any doubt about your own system, I suggest you check into that right now.

Throughout the day, as I waited for this to reboot and that to reload and the other to copy - all excruciatingly slow processes - the boys were rumbling around the house. Whatever they suggested I said yes to - water paints, water games, craft, whatever - anything to keep them busy and out of my zone of stress. When they appeared, I threw food at them - oreos, strawberries, crackers, whatever. Anything to keep them quiet while I stressed.

At the end of the day, as I tucked him into bed, Mr7 beamed up at me. "This has been the best day ever, Mum. We did so much fun stuff AND we had Oreos."

What could I do? I managed a smile and said 'that's nice, dear', as I headed back to my study where my computer was refusing to restore my system back-up and was now making worrying grinding noises.

The best day ever. It's all a matter of perspective, right?

Have you ever experienced a monumental computer meltdown?

Footnote: I seem to have recovered copies of my document files and, it looks like, photos and movies. So far there's no sign of iTunes or my entire email folder, but I am hoping that tomorrow, when the Apple staff are back at work, a nice person, named something starting with J, might be able to help me with that. Fingers crossed, and more tomorrow.

*title may include irony

[image: Piccsy.com]

Grateful to have a guest post

2011-09-16T19:58:00.015+10:00

I have been following Maxabella's progress around the internet this week. You see her here, you see her there, my Lord the girl is everywhere.

I'm blaming her for the string of 'Run' songs that have been on high rotation in my head this week - Run To You (Bryan Adams), Keep On Running (Spencer Davis Group), Born to Run (Bruce Springsteen). You need to imagine me with an imaginary hairbrush in my hand, singing these songs to my bewildered children. I'm pretty sure Alla Hoo Hoo is singing back up. Anyhoo...

Fortunately for me, Maxabella has washed up in the Fibro in time for a weekend post. Joining in with Maxabella's Grateful linky, which is being guest-hosted this week by the lovely Brenda at Mira Narnie. I'm grateful that she's here.

This week I'm grateful for... silly schemes
I imagine as I write this that I am actually in the (partly) newly-renovated Fibro, tapping away on Al's Mac and listening to the boys arguing on the blue back deck outside my window. Mr4 is growing up fast, but his adoration of Mr7 continues. These days I suspect that Mr7 is quickly realising that he might just have to dispense a little adoration back. Four year olds are tough, man.

Ah brothers, huh? Ah, sisters.

This week I'm grateful for...

172. Silly schemes - especially when cooked up with a chortling sister and no-one else thinks it's even remotely funny.

173. Frozen food* - since getting my additional freezer space courtesy of my good parents, I haven't looked back. Everything I make on the weekend, I make double and freeze some for weeknights.

174. Blue Ribbon 97% fat free Cookies and Cream ice cream - I know that 97% fat free food will send me to an early grave, but have you tasted this stuff? Ooh la la!

*And little mentions

Cheers to a great week where everyone is really nice to you and your hair looks good every single day.

[image: 9GAG.com]

Your chance to vote for a dream

2011-09-15T22:25:00.000+10:00

I've always loved a 'do-er'. People who get in and get on with things. Lots of people talk about stuff. About writing a book, or building a house, or saving the world. And then there are the people who just, well, do it.

I met Cate Bolt through Twitter, via a mutual industry contact. Cate is a do-er. She's also opinionated and forthright and no-nonsense. She tweets A LOT. Because she's there to raise money for a cause that means a lot to her. Cate doesn't just talk about how bad things are, or how she wishes things were different. She actively tries to make the world a better place.

Cate's come up against a fair bit of adversity in her life. It's her story, so if you want to know more, you should check out her blog. Suffice to say that she advocates for the homeless and any other number of voiceless people in this country. She has nine children. I know. Every time I complain about some aspect of parenting, she tells me that it will be fixed in one fell swoop by simply having more children. Worried about how they'll grow up? Have more children. Anxious about bullying? Have more children. Bored? Have more children. You can see how it goes.

She doesn't ask for help much. She'll sell you chocolate in a second to support her causes (and you should buy some because it's Fair Trade and therefore Guilt-Free Chocolate), but she won't ask for help. Unfortunately, she needs it now. She has a dream and SunSuper is offering grants that would make her dream so much easier for her to achieve. She wants to save orphaned children in Indonesia, and through education, help make that part of the world a better place. She has worked hard to raise the money for the orphanage and education programs, and the grant would help immensely with ongoing costs.

I'm asking for help for her. Please go here and vote for her dream. It's a one-minute process. You can read more about her story and her dream, vote (via a simple, non-scary log-in), and voila! that's it. It would help her out immensely if she won that money. It's a small kindness to help her with her much larger kindness picture. And you don't even have to have more children to solve the problem.

[image: MiguelRockstar/Tumblr]

Watching

2011-09-14T21:54:00.000+10:00

My favourite moment of today belongs to someone else. Two someone elses, in fact. Two males, one large, one small. Lying flat on their backs in the backyard, arms wide on the green, green grass. The Builder in work clothes. Mr4 in a dress-up wizard cloak, his 'Turtle Cat' costume. They are looking up at the spring-blue sky. Laughing. One deep belly laugh. One little belly giggle.

Just thinking about it makes me smile.

[image: youarelikeadrugforme/Tumblr]

Tips for writing features #2*: Stick with good contacts

2011-09-13T22:19:00.000+10:00

I'm working on a feature at the moment, and nothing is going right. The experts that I have called are not calling me back. The time frame that's been allocated is simply not enough. I'm fast running out of hours and options. But my many years in this game have given me one amazing asset for moments such as these: trusted contacts.

These are people I've interviewed many times over many years. A psychologist or two. Some financial advisors. Nutritionists, dietitians, parenting experts. Relationship gurus. Fashion experts, beauty experts, organising experts. I know that when I call them, they will give me exactly what I need. They know how my questions work, they know where to fill in the gaps. I know that when I call them, I do not need to explain myself, or my credentials. They know me. Well enough to say 'just put that into proper English for me, will you?' and trust that the quotes will be correct.

Every general features writer needs people like these. If you interview someone for a story and it goes particularly well, ask them one extra question: "Do you mind if I keep your details on file and call you again for future stories?" Chances are they'll say yes. Then you cross your fingers that they like that first story you did together so that the next time you call they're pleased to hear from you.

I keep up my end of the bargain. I don't call too often, I ensure they're credited as fully as I can, I am mindful of their time and keep my questions succinct. It's no coincidence, I'm sure, that my expert team are also people that I really like. They're people that I've connected with - a certain sense of humour, an ability to go off on tangents with aplomb. I've never met any of them face to face. Not one. But I'm sure they'd recognise my voice on the phone.

I'm always looking to add new people to my team. It's important to keep voices and ideas fresh. But I cannot tell you how happy I am that I have them in my life, particularly on nights like this, with that deadline looming.

And now I must go. There's a psychologist I need to email about an interview...

*I know this is out of numerical order, but I realised I forgot #2 in my list!

[image: Speaking of sticking, how cool is this wall decal from Urbanwalls?]

So then I got an iPhone... well, nearly

2011-09-12T20:59:00.000+10:00

You may remember that I wrote this post detailing why I wasn't getting an iPhone for Christmas last year. In precis, it had a lot to do with the fact that I was concerned, and The Builder was certain, that I would develop co-dependency issues. At that point, I was very caught up in the cyber world.

But life moves on.

Over the past eight months, two things have happened. One is that my love affair with blogging and tweeting has moved beyond those heady days of intoxicating love into phase two of any relationship - comfortable-on-the-sofa-watching-DVD mode. I am no longer seduced at every turn and bewitched by my new passion. Instead, I have traded in the sexy lingerie for cotton and can be found thinking occasionally (last night for instance), 'not tonight dear, I've got a headache'.

The second thing that has happened is that my trusty hot-pink Nokia is no longer so trusty. Apparently it's developed an 8.5-year itch and has proved to be very unreliable of late. It never has the energy to talk to me anymore and keeps diverting calls and failing to pass on messages. I'd think there was someone else, but, frankly, I think the old thing is past it.

So here I am. At the crossroads. It seems silly, even to an entrenched old Luddite like me, to willfully go out and buy another antiquated no-camera, no-internet, not-very-smart phone, so I'm going to jump on the bandwagon, albeit five years late, and get that iPhone. I think I am beyond being a Late Adopter. I'm just showing up early for the next trend (iPhones are practically old skool now, right?).

All of which begs today's big question - which Apps are must-haves? Anything else I need to know? Lay it on me. I need all the help I can get.

A random post about kindness

2011-09-08T22:43:00.001+10:00

My week of mindless activity continues, which means that my week of random thought also goes along its merry way. Today I was gnawing over the idea of Kindness.

Actually, scratch that. I began with Kindness and then segued briefly into why (or why not) women change their names when they get married. I brought that segue home with me, posted a question on Facebook/Twitter about it and watched the whole thing ignite. Answers were fairly evenly divided into the Ayes and the Nos, the hyphenated and the not, those with messy Medicare cards and those with a shared family name. I was left thinking 'now why didn't I write a blog post about that?'.

Moral to the story? Save your big questions for bigger forums.

Anyhoo, back to Kindness.

I read this post on Mamma Mia last week, about how kind words from a stranger can turn someone's day around. "Awww," I thought. I've long thought that kindness is an underrated human trait. Then, on ABC-TV's The Gruen Transfer last night, there was discussion of Kindness as a trend.

Advertisers are using social media to bestow 'random acts of kindness' (RAKs) upon people - usually people with large numbers of followers on Twitter or Facebook. In other words, people whom the advertiser thinks may be of some use in publicising said RAKs (and thus the advertiser) to their social networks. Call me cynical, but I think they need to come up with a new name. PMAM or Pre-Meditated Acts of Marketing comes to mind.

This idea of Kindness as a phenomenon, something people are talking about, interests me. Is it so rare in our world now that we have to broadcast it when someone is kind to us? It's not a new idea. Back in the 1970s, on those long family holidays in the back of the Kingswood Station Wagon, my sisters and I (the TICH was yet to join the Von Tait Family Singers) used to sing a song called 'Try A Little Kindness'. Heaven knows where we learnt it, or who sang it (I could Google it I know, but that would ruin the mystique), but I suspect it was a country singer of some description. It basically talked about how a random act of kindness would not only change someone else's day, but your own.

So now I'm wondering (you know me, always wondering). Have you ever been on the end of a random act of kindness? How did it make you feel? Or perhaps you were the purveyor of said kindness? Was it a spontaneous thing or did you specifically set out to be kind? If you set out to be kind, does that somehow add selfishness to the kindness mix?

Always with the big questions.

The proof is in the reading

2011-09-07T22:22:00.000+10:00

My editor emailed me today. First page proofs of my new book Career Mums are ready and on their way to me. This is the point where all those words start to look like a book. It's exciting... and terrifying. Already I have been waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Did I put a .au on that website address - when it shouldn't have one? (I didn't.) Did I remember to make those few requested corrections on that case study? (I did.)

I will have a few days to read through the entire book. No doubt several times. Looking for errors, mistakes, anything we may have overlooked. Reading all those words that I have read so many times. Trying to look at them with a fresh eye. Best I get some sleep.

Co-author Kate Sykes and I are already working on an idea for a new book. Yep, before the first one is even on the shelves. That's the way it is with publishing. You have to think long and far in advance. And then act in a rush when (if) things finally start to happen.

Hopefully, I'll have a cover to share with you soon.

[image: YanaFilimonova/Flickr]

What's the one thing you wish you could do?

2011-09-06T22:26:00.000+10:00

I spent some time painting today. After which I tweeted this: "Painting is one of those things that looks easy, but hurts like hell." Watching someone else paint a room is like, well, watching paint dry. Balancing with one leg on a ladder and the other on a window sill whilst performing approximations of yoga moves in order to 'cut in' in a straight line is another ordeal all together.

While I was in there brushing away, however, I had a fair bit of time to think. Which brought me to one of my favourite pastimes - that of mentally filling out questionnaires in my head. No, really. Those witty little columns that make up the front and back of newspaper magazines the world over require a lot of thought. What is my favourite book? What would I eat for my last meal? What, from a long list of unfashionable things that I love to do, would be my most loved ever?

The only question I can ever answer with any certainty is this one: What's the one thing you wish you could do? Most people answer 'sing' for this. But, as I have shared before, lack of ability does not stop me singing, so I disregard that. Nope, the one thing I wish I could do is, ironically, paint. Not walls (particularly after today). Paintings. Works of art.

Actually, I'd settle for being able to doodle.

I am the least visual person I know. My drawing style began and ended at stick figures. So, yes. That art stuff? That's the one thing I wish I could do.

What's the one thing you wish you could do?

[image: Mr4's latest drawing of a Christmas tree is a far superior effort to mine]

Fibro Q&A: Mark Dapin shares his writing secrets

2011-09-05T22:15:00.000+10:00

I'm quite excited about this week's Fibro Q&A. Usually when I am talking to Mark Dapin, we discuss roundabouts, penguins, social media, beer, driving, children, our mutual friends, the state of the world and the state of our various projects (his more exciting than mine). It is a rare event for me to actually drill him about writing. I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm shy (and I can hear him laughing from here...). Maybe I don't want him to know how much I truly don't know. Probably it's just that the conversations about roundabouts are far too scintillating to warrant a change of subject. Something like that.

Anyway, he writes a popular column for Good Weekend, first-rate features, (probably) best-selling non-fiction books, award-winning novels... possibly even poetry (but no doubt that's hidden in a drawer). His debut novel The King of the Cross won the Ned Kelly Award for Best First Fiction and his new novel, Spirit House, is now in bookshops. So, despite the fact that he does not look like a writer*, I took advantage of his extreme shortness** and invited him to the Fibro to view my asterisk collection*** While he was here, I asked him about writing.

Given that you practice so many forms of writing, do you have to take a different approach with each?
Mark Dapin: "Not really. If I'm writing a feature, I try to approach it as if it were a short story. I identify the main characters, give them a narrative arc and - if the storytelling works - use my 3000 words to gradually reveal the mystery at the heart of the story. I try to write an introduction that drags the reader in, and a conclusion that offers a surprise twist, a kind of reward for reading that far. I use the same technique with the chapters in my novels and slightly scaled-down version**** for my column."

You put a lot of yourself into your columns and feature stories - does having such a strong voice make fiction writing easier or more difficult when you have to write from a character's perspective?
MD: "I think every character in every novel written by every writer is, in part, an extension of an aspet of the writer's own character. When a writer pits good against evil, they're really, on some level, just detailing the conflict within themselves. So no, not really. I can write hundreds of different Mark Dapin characters - black, white, men, women, short, extremely tall..."

Did you suffer from second novel syndrome when writing Spirit House? Or did having a deadline and certain expectations help you get the job done?
MD: "Yeah, it was much harder to write the second novel than the first. I had to do almost a year of research. I would never do this again. I advise strongly against setting a novel in Singapore in 1942 when you were born in England in 1963. Also, I did a lot of work with my publisher on the plot, which kept flying off in odd directions."

Given that the role of the author seems to involve so much more marketing/promotion these days, and you also write a weekly column plus regular features, when do you fit in your fiction writing? Are there days when you never want to see another word?
MD: "I just prioritise. I make a (mental) list of what I most want to accomplish in the day, and I do that first. Some weeks, it's journalism every day, some weeks it's fiction all week. It kind of depends on my deadlines and my mood. It doesn't mean the other stuff doesn't get done, just that everything is completed in the right order. And if I get stuck on fiction, I turn to the column. If it get stuck on a column, I write a feature, and so on."

What would your advice be for anyone starting out in the writing game - any genre - today?
MD: "Learn to write. Don't use cliches or formulaic constructions. Read good writers and try to figure out how they avoid repeating the words of others. Every time you finish a sentence, think to yourself, "Have I read this somewhere before?" If you're writing dialogue, ask yourself if real people talk that way, or just characters on TV. Realise that other people are just as complex as you are and a two-dimensional portrayal of anybody - in journalism, or in fiction - is likely to show up the writer as more shallow than their character. Don't be precious. Almost everything improves with cutting."

Spirit House is at the top of my To Be Read pile, covered in a thin layer of renovation dust. I cannot wait to read it. I know that, for me as a reader, it will be funny, and unexpected, and thought-provoking. I know that, for me as a writer, it will be motivating and inspiring and, yes, envy-inducing. You can buy it here. You can also follow Mark's blog, where he writes about roundabouts (oh yes, he does) among other things.

*have a look here if you don't believe me
**rumour has it that he is just 9cm tall
***My collection will never match his, but the ruse worked.
****This is a genuine Mark Dapin asterisk. Yeah, yeah, 9 centimetres.

Home Sweet Fibro

2011-09-04T22:24:00.000+10:00

We are home at the Fibro and the boys are running around in circles in giddy delight. Something about being in their own space, surrounded by their own stuff, is just so happy-making that their little bodies can't contain it. Our new bathroom is an absolute delight, light and bright and white. Pics soon if I can work out how to manage them.

The Builder was determined to wake up here for Fathers' Day, so we spent yesterday in a frenzy of final touches... not to mention ferrying our stuff back from Mum and Dad's house. I don't recall taking so much gear over there. It must have missed us and moved in by itself. But now we are all reunited at the Fibro and all is right with the world. Or it will be, once I remember to pick up those little things I keep forgetting.

Fibrotown turned on glorious weather for Fathers' Day. And we had one of those days where it all went right. Instead of eating McDonald's for lunch on the way home in the car (simply because we forgot to book anywhere forgetting how busy these occasions can be) we ate a civilised meal in a Spanish deli with two surprisingly well-behaved children (I did wonder if we'd picked up the wrong ones at the market by mistake...).

We did some wine tasting (if you haven't visited Morellis Wines near Berry you are missing out - the most stunning scenery and a very cheeky verdelho as well), we bought some antique what-nots. Mr4 was heard to complain at one point that Fathers' Day wasn't really very fun for him but, once it was explained to him that Fathers' Day was not really about him, he subsided.

And then, at the end of it all, home. Who could ask for more than that?

What did you get up to for Fathers' Day?

[image: love this print by DefineDesign11/etsy]

How (not) to finish a Fitness Challenge

2011-09-01T22:42:00.001+10:00

I fear I am a great disappointment to the Instructor Ladies at my gym. In fact, given the sad, puppy dog eyes that greet my appearance there these days, I'm suspecting that my fears are well-placed. Shall we just put it out there, right up front, and confirm that my six-week Fitness Challenge has been an unmitigated disaster. I have several very impressive and ever-ready excuses - book edits, renovations, illness, blah, blah, blah - but I don't blame you for not listening. I'm not even listening any more.

The fact is that I wanted to get fit simply by signing up to the Fitness Challenge. As if simply putting my indecipherable John Hancock on the bottom line would be enough to decrease the size of my bottom. Apparently this is not how things work. Disappointing that.

I have one more week to go. The Instructor Ladies - and they are so very nice, I really want to please them - are expecting Great Things. They actually told me that after I left the other day, blaming PMT for my body's obstinate refusal to lose so much as one single centimetre. And they wouldn't pull that tape measure tighter, just to cheat a little millimetre or two, no matter how much I asked. So. Great Things.

I'm wondering if what I need is a new approach. A post-renovations, post-edits, post-PMT kind of approach. I heard about this great new initiative from The Black Dog Institute today. It's called Spring, it costs $30 and you get 30 days of training plans, fitness tips, motivational emails... and it's all designed to focus on lifting your mood. I think my mood is about the only thing I'm capable of lifting right now, so this could be the perfect solution.

And at least I can be secure in the knowledge that even if I follow my usual pattern and do nothing useful regarding getting fit, somebody will benefit from my $30 investment because the money raised goes to The Black Dog Institute, to fund their fabulous work with mental health and mood disorders.

Knowing that makes me feel better already.

[image: awesomepictures.me]

Are you a Car Star?

2011-08-31T22:41:00.000+10:00

I have a confession. I like to sing. In my car. Really loudly and with much passion. I know. You're wincing, aren't you? I'm the chick you pull up next to at the traffic lights who's howling along at the top of her lungs. All you can be thankful for is that the windows are up. And I can't even guarantee you that.

Today I had some errands to run. Errands involving highway driving. I'm politely referred to as a Nervous Nellie when it comes to driving, so my singing serves two capacities in these situations. It keeps my mind off the 4,500 'what ifs' that can turn my palms sweaty when I'm driving at 100km/hour - and it makes me breathe deeply and keeps me calm.

That's my excuse, anyway.

Today I found myself singing the fourth part harmony that The Dixie Chicks so obviously miss. I totally rocked a Pink song (did I mention I'm a closet (or not so closet) dag?). There may or may not have been some Jimmy Barnes in there. Singing along with Jimmy makes me appreciate the range of the man's voice. Those songs get high, people.

In the privacy of my own car, I'm the lead singer, with any choice of international superstar backing band I damn choose. I like to think I make the most of that.

Are you a Car Star? What's your music of choice?

[image: bsandgren]

Proud parents come in all shapes and sizes

2011-08-30T22:48:00.000+10:00

The scene: the empty carpark at the local swimming pool. Dark clouds gather on the horizon, threatening. A mother gathers her babies about her, anxiously scanning for traffic.

The Misters are back at swimming lessons. Which means that the race from school gate to pool is on again. Twenty minutes from bell to the first splash, via a quick snack, changing from uniform to what Mr4 calls 'swimming underpants' and a hurried 'how was school?' update. It's a finely timed operation.

The scene: deciding that the coast is clear, the mother lines her babies up. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. You can almost hear them sounding off like the Von Trapp children as she makes sure they're all there.

At 3.15pm, we pull up out the front of the heated pool. Across the road, the open-air pool is closed, awaiting the long weekend and the warm weather. As I unbuckle my seatbelt, I glance across the deserted carpark, surprised that there are so few cars here yet. And that's when I see them...

The scene: Dad appears from nowhere to bring up the rear of the line. There are so many of them and they have a long way to go. Between them, the parents frogmarch their little charges to the edge of the carpark. They stand near the kerb, watching, waiting. The road in front of them, a standard suburban street, appears vast.

"Quick!" I shout, racing around to let the boys out of the car. "Look!" I point to the little family, taking its first tentative steps onto the street.

"Ducklings!" shouts Mr7. Mr4 claps his hands. We all stand and watch, breaths held as we watch the line of fluffy ducklings, sandwiched at either end by their ever-vigilant parents, make a break across the street.

"There aren't any cars coming, are there Mum?" asks Mr4, worried.

"Those lookouts will let them know," says Mr7, pointing out the two ducks standing, as though on guard, nearby.

The scene: the ducklings flap and waddle and wiggle their way across to the other side, and the safety of the river bank. Mum and Dad Duck stand on the verge, watching as, one by one, they slip and slide and slither their way down the grassy hill towards the water below. Proud parents.

We watch them until they disappear over the rise. At which point I realise the time, line the boys up and we skiddle and skaddle and run helter skelter toward our first lesson of the season. Where Mr4 did the best 'big arms' ever, and Mr7 received a 'good' from the notoriously tough teacher. Proud parent.

[image: via dreams that glitter xo]

A note about school notes

2011-08-29T22:16:00.000+10:00

On Monday they fall like confetti from the sky. Or from the reader bag. School notes. Blue, pink, yellow, green, orange... All full of instructions. "You need to do this/sign that/pay this/prepare that."

A deluge.

I read them. I immediately throw the ones of least apparent relevance. A sizeable pile remains. I sign what I can. Return it immediately to the reader bag. One down. Truckloads to go. How, for instance, to deal with the 'Buskers Afternoon' notification. Can I be a parent helper? Can I avoid it?

The Fair Trade Colouring Competition is due on Thursday. I have a bad feeling the colouring sheet remains in the Fibro, under the renovation dust - will Mr7 be devastated? School photo season is upon us. Choose a package - cheque or credit. Due back when? Eeek! Tomorrow. Wait a minute - wasn't there one about the preschool photos as well? Rummage. Due back when? Eeeek! Tomorrow.

There has to be an easier way.

How do you deal with the onslaught of school notes? Any tips?

[image: how much do you love this picture by beet09? You can buy it as a greeting card at RedBubble.]

Making the switch (or thinking with your eyes open)

2011-08-28T21:10:00.000+10:00

Following Thursday's Inner Hoon post, Mr4 (who, by the way, did not read that particular post) decided that today was the day to Lose The Training Wheels. He was ready to be a Big Boy. Fo' Real. So, with great ceremony, the little wheels were removed and he and I and Mr7 duly removed ourselves to the wide, open spaces of the local showground to see if we could, as Mr7 put it, get him going.

Half an hour into proceedings, huffing and puffing and with very sore hamstrings from bending over to hold the back of his seat (which is not very far off the ground), I called a halt. He had made some progress. He could push off and pedal a few rounds, but then it all went pear shaped. Let's just say that any distraction is a good distraction as far as Mr4 is concerned. And every time he spotted a distraction, his handle bars went left and he went with them.

As I carried his bike back to the car, I told him that he needed to concentrate a little better. Looking at motorbikes roaring past, for instance, was causing him to crash.

"But I was looking at the lovely day," he responded.

I know the day is lovely, but even so. If he wanted to ride his bike, he needed to think a little harder.

"But when I think really hard, I have to close my eyes, Mum," he responded. Er, yes, I could see how this would make staying on the bike difficult. (See Thursday's post about raising the legal driving age to 30.)

I told him that he needed to find a way to think hard with his eyes open.

Later, as we were driving out to view an antique food safe (I take them to all the best places, it's true), he told me that he'd had a breakthrough. "I've worked out how to think with my eyes open," he told me, pride infusing every syllable.

Oh?

"There's a switch in my head," he confided. "If you push it one way, your eyes close. But if I push it back the other way, reeeeaaaallly hard, I can think with my eyes open."

Oh, that's all right then.

We are heading back to the showground tomorrow for round two. Let's hope that switch is in the right position.

Have you taught a child to ride a bike? Any tips for one who is distracted by 'the lovely day'?

[image: fieldnotes]

Writing + Weight Loss = Same/Same

2011-08-27T14:19:00.000+10:00

I'm guest posting at Diminishing Lucy today. I love her blog. She covers an awful lot of ground, from family to fitness, and does it without apparently breaking a sweat. My post today is all about how writing and weight loss have a lot of similarities... particularly given I'm not doing a lot of either at the moment. Please pop over and say hello...

Also, if you haven't joined up with the Weekend Rewind, it's not too late - and it's SUPER EASY this week. All you have to do is to link up a post from this time last year. How hard can that be???? Hope to see you there!

Big red cars

2011-08-25T23:09:00.000+10:00

Mr4's inner hoon is well developed. At four. He will stand on a street corner and point out the 'coolest' cars. All of said cars have flashy paint jobs, shiny wheels and 'wings' aka spoilers. Mr7 has told him that spoilers are aeroplane wings turned upside down, so they hold the car down, rather than pushing the plane up. Mr7 learned about that on an episode of Peppa Pig, or Olivia, or one of those Piggy ABC shows. See, TV is educational.

Mr4 likes the music loud when he is in the car. He likes the window down and the breeze in his hair. He tells me that he will be a much better driver than me. Apparently he will be 'fast' and will not hit the gutter when he attempts to reverse park. Everyone's a critic.

Mr4 dons his bike helmet, puts on his gumboots, and climbs on his little bike (with training wheels) as though he is stepping over a Harley Davidson. He brmmms as he drives, makes screeching noises as he skids to a stop, and swaggers like a Bandido as he pushes his bike into the preschool playground. He walked around with his helmet under his arm for ages the other morning, waiting for someone to notice, then tossed his hair back with 'oh, this old thing' attitude as he confided that he'd ridden to school that day.

Mr4 has all the makings of a mother's worst nightmare.

I think I'll start lobbying now for the driving age to be raised to 30.

[image: Disney]

Were you a Trixie Belden fan?

2011-08-24T22:06:00.000+10:00

Mr7 is reading Trixie Belden books. Books written in the 1950s about a teenage girl and her friends who solve mysteries. Their gang is known as The Bob-Whites of the Glen. BWG. They are named after a flock of birds. It is all so innocent and twee as to be faintly ridiculous. Assuming, of course, that you didn't know better...

Mr7 is reading Trixie Belden books because I bought them for him. I was obsessed with Trixie. She was so cool. Always described as 'sturdy' with freckles and sandy curls. She hated sewing and all the other girl stuff that 'Moms' wanted her to do. She wasn't scared of anything. Her best friend Honey Wheeler was tall, slim and really good at all that stuff. My friend S and I used to pretend to be Trixie and Honey. Swapping roles, depending on the day. Trixie followed on from our Famous Five obsession. I think S's mum was glad when we grew out of the Famous Five, because we'd dug a sizeable hole in her backyard in our attempt to create an underground clubhouse.

I wasn't entirely sure that Mr7 would take to Trixie, her being a girl and using such phrases as 'gleeps!' and 'gadzooks'. But I think he responds to exactly the same things I did.. She's a resourceful girl our Trixie. Smart, persistent, charming. She also has a loyal group of friends, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth and always on hand to pull her out of scrapes. And, of course, key for any Sherlock Holmes fan, there's a good mystery at the heart of every book.

I was never really a Nancy Drew girl. But I did read about 37 Trixie Belden books. I wonder if Mr7 will stay the distance.

Were you a Trixie Belden fan?

You do what you do

2011-08-23T22:16:00.000+10:00

My mum is a very wise woman. One of her best pieces of advice ever? "You do what you do." Always useful in those moments when you're second-guessing yourself. Looking at everyone else. Wondering why they seem to be more popular/cool/successful than you. Slanting green-eyed looks at the person next to you. Or the one across the room. Wondering if what you're writing/saying/doing is ... enough.

You do what you do. Nobody else does what you do.

Trying to be someone or something else is never the answer. The only voice that will work for you is your voice. Have confidence in that voice.

Stop comparing. Stop contrasting. Focus on making what you do the best that you can do.

Or, as Melinda Schneider sings, "Be yourself. Everybody else is taken."

It's great advice. It works. In writing, in blogging, in life.

[image: via weheartit]

How much information is too much information?

2011-08-22T22:50:00.001+10:00

Before you have kids, nobody ever warns you about the quicksand. Okay, they don't warn you about lots of other stuff either (conjunctivitis anyone?) but the quicksand is one area into which an innocent parent wanders easily and often. Big quicksand subjects are sign-posted - you can prepare for Death, Sex and Mortgages, you can see them coming (or not, see here) and deflect the child with a random 'oh, wow, was that a Ninja Turtle I just saw?' But the others...

Today I found myself floundering not once, but twice, and without warning. The conversations went from nowhere to Physics (eep!) and Chemistry (help!) in the blink of an eye and without a safety net. This time it was not Mr4, asker of the world's most difficult questions, but Mr7 who led me merrily down the path towards MumsNotASuperhero (could almost be a Welsh village, could it not?), via quicksand.

The scene: Front yard, Gran & Pops's house. The boys are riding bikes on the very cool driveway.

Mr7: "Mum, why do bikes stay up when you ride them and fall over when you stop?"

Me, not thinking: "Oh, it's to do with physics."

Mr7: "What's physics?"

Me, still unaware of the cold trickle of wet sand between my toes: "It's a type of science."

Mr7: "What's that got to do with bikes?"

Me, beginning to feel ground shifting beneath my feet: "Well, the bike stays up when you ride because the force of the momentum of the bike is stronger than the force of the pull of gravity on it."

Mr7: Pause. "Mum, what's force?"

Me, finally listening to internal voice shrieking 'you have no idea what you're talking about': "You'll learn about it in year 9 science. Just keep riding or you'll fall over."

The scene: The dinner table. Mr7, Mr4 and I are enjoying a little light dinner table conversation.

Actually, I cannot even relay this chat word for word. All I remember is using the words 'organic', 'chemicals', 'photosynthesis', 'carbon dioxide' and 'biology'. The feel of cold, wet sand closing over my head has blanked out the rest. Suffice to say, I was on shaky ground and ended up offering to buy him one of those kids' science encyclopaedias, just to take the pressure off.

My policy with the basic information questions (as opposed to the big Life questions) has always been to throw as much detail at the kids as they could take. If they ask me something, I explain the hell out of it (hence my 'fun' chats about collective nouns), pretty much until their eyes glaze over - a sure sign that they've stopped listening. But, as Mr7 gets older and, let's face it, smarter than me, the gaps in my own knowledge (particularly in the sciences) become more glaringly apparent. I get the feeling I'll be standing in that quicksand more and more often in the future.

How do you handle questions that have real, factual answers? Do you go for simple and efficient, or throw as much at your kids as they (and you) can handle?

[image: beatboxgoesthump.tumblr]

The blinking cursor

2011-08-21T21:38:00.000+10:00

Beat. Beat. Beat.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Like a neon sign with a short in the electrics. Small black line in a sea of white.

Waiting.

Wanting.

My 500 words a day challenge is progressing in fits and starts. Much like the blink of the blinking cursor. Three thousand words this week. No words the week before. The middle of the book is before me. The hard yards. I do a lot of staring at the blinking cursor. Waiting for something to happen. Anything.

Some days, all I can do is write something. Anything. Just to get some words down.

Much like this blog post.

Are you writing something? Do you love or hate the blinking cursor?

[image: flickr.com]

What did you talk about this week?

2011-08-19T21:24:00.001+10:00

It's been a long week (not) in the Fibro. The Builder has been flat out with bathroom renos, I have been flat-out with book edits, and the boys have been flat out... being boys. So our topics of conversation have been somewhat more narrow than usual. But that doesn't mean there were few of them. No sirreee.

Bath enamel, plastering, taps, lights, kitchen colours, kitchen colours, kitchen colours, internet access, Friday Night Lights, community grants, breakfast, weeds, the collective noun for a group of Harry Potters, Sherlock Holmes, Robin Hood, shiraz, dressing gowns, pipes, bad Chinese takeaway, hats, coffee, wife swapping (don't ask!), novels, writing, Dianne Blacklock, Twitter, blogging, Cars 2, tennis, moving house.

What did you talk about?

[image: Tumblr.com]

There are times in life when I wish I could sew...

2011-08-18T22:56:00.001+10:00

As a non-sewing, non-crafty, non-gifted-in-most-areas mother, there are certain times of the year that I dread. Book Week is one of those times. Others include Easter (Bonnet Parade, anyone?), Christmas (I can make a mean Shepherd's head-dress out of a towel, but that's the extent of my talents) and, indeed, any time of the year that might conjure up the need for a, gulp, costume.

Tonight my focus is on Book Week. Because it's next week. It could be worse, I guess. It could be tomorrow.

Mr7's Book Week aspirations have suffered some downgrading since he first arrived home last week declaring that he would be Robin Hood. I thought fast. If I could find some facsimile of an elfy-green shirt and a bow and arrow, we might pull it off. Spirits were high as we hit the shops of Fibrotown last Friday. Spirits were low as we trudged home again. No bow, no arrows (though he fixed this problem by making them himself from straight sticks and feathers and flinging them at his brother), specifically, and tragically, no green pointy hat.

The next morning he awoke, full of inspiration. "I won't be Robin Hood, I'll be Sherlock Holmes," he said. Great, I thought, how hard can that be? Er, hard. Apparently only a long coat will do and we have, as yet, been unable to turn up a child-sized Sherlock coat. Or a pipe, for that matter. We have a tweed cap, a magnifying glass and a notebook, however, so I feel like I've put some points on the board there.

As the days have drifted on and I've not shown enough enthusiasm for spending every afternoon unearthing the perfect costume, he has downgraded once more.

"I suppose I could go as Harry Potter," he said, glumly. I leapt on that suggestion. We have a robe, a wand, some glasses... and there's been so much 'Accio this' and 'Leviosa that' going on over the past year that he's a shoe-in. "Why so glum about that idea?" I asked.

Turns out there are at least three other boys in his class alone going as the Great Potter. I tried to bring him out of his slump by entertaining him with ideas for the collective noun for a group of Potters (see, I really am the most Fun Mum ever...). "A flight of Potters?" I ventured. "A spell of Potters? A Hogwart of Potters? A Dumbledore of Potters?" It wasn't until I got to A Quidditch of Potters that he even managed to raise a grin.

I confess that I spent tonight googling Sherlock Holmes accessories. I have been to op shops looking for coats. I even contemplated making a boat hat out of green paper and sticking a feather on it. This is what we non-sewing, non-crafting, non-gifted-in-most-areas mums are reduced to at times like these. I am wondering if I can put him in a black turtleneck, black trousers, black shoes and a woebegone expression and sending him as a starving writer? That would work for Book Week, right?

Do you love getting the kids dressed up, or dread it as much as I do? In the meantime, I open the floor to your suggestions for the collective noun for a group of Harry Potters. Give it your best shot people! The winner gets to make Mr7 a costume.

[image: if all else fails, he can wear a paper bag on his head, as per this gorgeous print by katep/etsy - or maybe I will...]

The people that you meet

2011-08-17T23:13:00.000+10:00

Sometimes it's worth the effort. Whatever 'it' may be. However much effort may be involved.

Tonight the Fibrotown library played host to two fab Australian writers. Dianne Blacklock and Ber Carroll made the trip down from their various parts of The Big Smoke to talk about their new books, their writing journeys and, surprisingly, their sex lives (well, technically, how their sex lives do not end up in print, but my line was better, right?).

I nearly didn't go. I'd made all the plans, tweeted Dianne (whom I didn't know from a bar of soap) to tell her I'd be there, lined The Builder up to leave our bathroom renovations to get home on time. And then it rained. And it was cold. And we had visitors in the afternoon, which put my quiche making/washing up/bathing children/feeding children/getting showered/getting dressed plans out the window. It would have been so easy to give up, put my slippers on and stay home.

But how often do fab Aussie writers come to the Fibrotown library? Not often enough. So I went.

It was a great talk. Funny, informative, personal. They covered the process of writing, the process of writing with children (quite a different process), where ideas come from, how ideas become books. And the aforementioned sex, of course.

Afterwards, I somehow ended up at the pub with Dianne (how these things happen is just a mystery to me) talking about writing. For hours. We'd never met (though I did remember reviewing her first book for CLEO, back in the day), but that didn't seem to matter much. It never does when you're talking about writing, I find.

An unexpected bonus on a Wednesday night. Definitely worth the effort.

You can meet Dianne too - she's on Twitter here and on Facebook here. Her eighth novel, The Secret Ingredient, is out in November (that's her current book in the image), and I'll be inviting her to the Fibro for an intimate discussion about how to blend personal observations and details into fiction - and still keep your friends.

Warning: may contain unsolicited parenting advice

2011-08-16T22:20:00.000+10:00

Today I found myself handing out some unsolicited parenting advice (UPA). This is not my normal modus operandi. Like most mums-to-be, I was on the receiving end of so much UPA before the birth of Mr7 (and afterwards, often in the queue at the supermarket checkout, I found) that I swore I'd never dispense it myself. I've slipped up over the years, of course - there are moments when a person finds herself saying things before she even realises her mouth is open - but for the most part, I wait until I'm asked.

Anyhoo.

Not only was today's UPA out of the ordinary, it was also out of the blue. I was doing an interview. I know. Professional and all. With a mum to be, who was sharing some of her thoughts and fears about the impending birth. I asked all my questions, took due note of all her answers and got us unscathed to the end of the interview. She was, like all first-time mums to be, full of what ifs and hows and maybes and shoulds and coulds and... in other words, no clue. "I'm just not sure what it's going to be like," she finished up. "I've been asking everyone. People at work, my friends, my family, the lady at the fruit shop..."

I couldn't help myself. "Can I just say something?" I asked. What was she going to say? No?

"Of course," she said.

"It's going to be just like your life, but with an added, new, and wonderful dimension," I said. "Your life goes on. It doesn't suddenly all come to a crashing halt. It's different. But it's still your life."

"Oh," she breathed. "I'm so happy to hear that."

I was emboldened. "Here's the thing," I continued. "I remember feeling exactly as you do before the birth of my first child..."

And I told her about how I'd rung a friend up one day, just before I was due to give birth. My friend F's first baby was five months old by then, fat, happy, gurgly.

"I'm just wondering what you actually do when you take the baby home," I said.

Silence. "What do you mean?" F asked. "Like when you get home from hospital."

Yes, then. When you arrive in your same house, through your same front door, bringing that little person with you that, somehow, they've let you take home with you. Despite the fact that you have not one clue what to do with said little person. What exactly do you do?

"Well," she said, giving the matter careful and considerable thought. "We had a kebab. You could do that."

I'm not sure what I expected, but it was not something as pedestrian as a kebab. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I'd suggest you do that, Al. Put the baby to bed and have a kebab."

See what I mean. Your life goes on, with a whole new dimension in the next room. One of the best pieces of parenting advice I ever received. And I was happy to pass it on. Solicited or not.

What's the best piece of parenting advice you've ever received, solicited or otherwise?

[image: thedesigninspiration.com]

Were we all in the library?

2011-08-15T21:29:00.000+10:00

Over the past few weeks, I've had several different conversations with several different people, which have all, for one reason or another, wandered back to our high school days. These high school days all took place at different high schools, at different times.

But we all had one thing in common.

"I spent a lot of time in the library in my high school years," confided my bubbly friend N over a cup of Nescafe on the weekend.

"Well, I hid in the library a fair bit," said my outgoing friend M over a glass of red a few weeks ago.

"You spent year 8 in the library, didn't you Al?" said my all-knowing friend A, on the phone.

Choose any night on Twitter and someone is using their 140 characters to confess their misspent youth with the Dewey Decimal System. These are bright, funny people. Very good in writing. Those hours of isolation amongst the dusty shelves have stood them in good stead.

I have just one question. If we were all in the library, who was in the playground? Surely someone was out there, living the dream, being the Cool Kids.

Was it you?

'Fess up. Did you spend your high school years in the library or, er, smoking behind the bike sheds?

[image: Tumblr.com]

Empty rooms

2011-08-14T22:03:00.000+10:00

Empty rooms look smaller. Empty rooms look darker. Empty rooms have no heartbeat, no energy.

The middle of the Fibro is empty. Bathroom and laundry stripped of their walls, rugged concrete exposed underfoot. Wires wave from dark corners. Creatures with many legs scuttle in the shadows.

It's hard to imagine that in a few short weeks we will be back in there. It will be white and clean and bright.

Now it is just empty.

[image: Tumblr.com]