A random post about kindness

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

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?

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

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

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

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]