I’m often asked where my ideas for stories come from. Writers are instinctive story-hunters – there are stories everywhere – it’s about being open to what’s around you and connecting small ideas.

For example, my friend L told me a fourth-hand story about a woman who was annoyed with her husband because while he dried the dishes, he never put them away. The dry dishes would sit on the kitchen bench for his wife to put back in the drawers and cupboards. Every. Single. Day.

So one morning her husband came to her and said, ‘I don’t understand. I started to put on a business shirt for work and there’s one sleeve that wasn’t ironed. I chose another shirt, but it was ironed except for one sleeve. And then I realised all my shirts were ironed except for one sleeve. What have you done?’

Her answer? ‘Three quarters of the job.’

He always put the dishes away after that.

Now can you imagine that scene in a contemporary women’s novel?

This story happened to me a few days ago. After a disturbed night’s sleep, I drove into an underground car park. Just as I was about to park, I had to reverse to allow another car to pass me in the narrow lane. He gave me a rude gesture – I’m still not sure why – I was the one who accommodated his need. I was thinking about how unnecessarily rude he was when I scraped the car in the car park next to mine.

There were no dents, but the paint was certainly scratched off. I felt equal parts shaky and annoyed at myself. I had almost finished writing the owner of the car a note when I noticed that a lady in her sixties was about to step into the scratched car.

‘I’m so sorry, I’ve accidentally scratched your car,’ I began to apologise.

‘I’m sure it’s not that bad, let me have a look, dear,’ she told me.

When she saw the scratches, she waved her hand airily. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.’

‘But do you want my number? Just in case you change your mind?’

‘Oh my dear, forget about it,’ she said and got back in her car.

I almost fell over myself with gratitude and asked for her name.

‘Judith. Now have a good day.’

Judith, you are definitely hero material.

My final story for this week – my engagement ring broke – it has been an interesting week! My ring is 22 years old, but it broke in the same place only six months ago. The jewellers were very apologetic and will repair it. It does feel a little odd not to wear it but I’m not superstitious so I am not at all concerned that this is a bad sign for our marriage!

Now, imagine weaving all these stories together. Maybe the main character in a contemporary woman’s novel is having a problem with her marriage? Maybe she had the mini-bingle on the same day she realised her engagement ring was broken? Maybe that’s why she went home and ironed three quarters of each of her husband’s shirts? Maybe he was angry and asked her for a divorce? Maybe this all happened in the first three chapters of the book and the rest of the book is about her new life where dishes are put away correctly and the fourth finger of her left hand permanently bears an naked indent where her rings used to sit.

There are stories everywhere – writers are just good at connecting them!

August has been incredibly busy – why do all the schools put all the events in August?!! Time to take stock and work out where everything is at. This is a list from Pip Lincolne’s blog, Meet me at Mike’s.

Making: Writers’ Notebooks for my school holiday writing workshops
Cooking: crispy-skin salmon with zucchini chips for dinner tonight
Drinking: chai latte – my chai was photographed for Cocoa cafe’s social media feed yesterday!
Reading: Anne of Green Gables at night and Dialogue, the art of verbal action for page, stage and screen during the day
Wanting: warmer weather
Looking: at Miss 11’s gorgeous new haircut
Playing: Uno with Mr 9
Deciding: which roses to plant in our garden
Wishing: there were more hours in the day – I always wish that!
Enjoying: frothy pink ranunculi in a vase
Waiting: for my bare-branched crab apple and birch trees to burst into bloom
Liking: that there is more time on Sundays now that footy for both boys has finished
Wondering: which format to choose for my Writers’ Notebooks
Loving: the unread stack of birthday books in my study
Pondering: how to best meet everyone’s needs
Considering: how to sort out my overflowing inbox
Buying: food, food and more food – how do they eat so much?
Watching: three basketball semi-finals tomorrow
Hoping: for three basketball wins!
Marvelling: at the pastel drawings my kids created at the kitchen table – sunsets and waterfalls
Cringing: at how loud my kids can be
Needing: more sleep
Questioning: how to meet everyone’s needs, including my own
Smelling: the raspberry muffins Miss 11 baked
Wearing: ankle boots in a variety of colours
Following: the footy finals with only a little interest – my team is out!
Noticing: how Mr 14’s t-shirts look a little small for him now
Knowing: I’ll have to buy him some new ones!
Thinking: constantly about my writing workshops – which books to discuss, which activities to do, how much can we fit in – I’d be happy to run week-long sessions!
Admiring: my husband for his dedication to work and family
Sorting: the pantry – there’s a sesame oil spill
Getting: a little bit fitter with running
Bookmarking: interesting writing posts
Coveting: summer clothes
Disliking: the overflowing ironing basket
Opening: my laptop every morning with a sense of excitement for my manuscript
Giggling: at Mr 9 reciting nursery rhymes
Feeling: too many emotions to articulate in one sentence
Snacking: on corn chips
Helping: each of my kids navigate through their own challenges
Hearing: the kids singing in the shower

Maybe you’d like to copy and paste this list for yourself into a file, or write it in a journal or the back of an envelope. Or tell me one ‘ing’ in the comments!

When I was ten, Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery (published in 1908) introduced me to the depths of despair, the idea of kindred spirits and most importantly, that a good imagination could be your greatest strength.

Miss 11 and I have just finished watching season 2 of Anne with an e on Netflix. Season three will be out next year.

This show is NOT for Anne of Green Gable purists. The Netflix version includes threads about progressive education for girls, sexual preferences for adults and children, puberty and racial discrimination. Who knew Avonlea could contain so much? Some of the new themes just do not work but some of them have brought this classic story to a modern audience.

This article is scathing about the perils of re-doing a well-loved classic. I do agree with the idea that Anne’s imagination flourished against the quiet backdrop of her ordinary life – bringing so much into her daily life diminishes the need for ‘scope for the imagination’.

The characters of Anne, Marilla and Matthew are well-cast – Anne looks just like she is described by L. M. Montgomery. Marilla is her usual sharp-tongued, brusque yet kindly self and Matthew is his introverted, gentle self – albeit with a dead brother and tragic love affair in the Netflix version.

Most main characters follow a narrative arc – we see how they have changed over the course of the book, usually because they have risen to face conflict. In Anne of Green Gables, Anne stays true to herself and doesn’t change but she changes the characters around her – Marilla softens, Mrs Lynde becomes less judgemental, Matthew takes more risks, Diana becomes more creative – all because of their love of Anne. These changes, although slight, highlight Anne’s influence.

I have tried unsuccessfully to encourage Miss 11 to read Anne of Green Gables but my bookworm of a daughter could not get past the long-winded descriptive first chapter. So we broke our family rule of reading the book before seeing the movie.

Many years ago, my husband and I were watching television on a Saturday night and flicking the channels between the footy ad breaks. We saw that the 1985 version of Anne of Green Gables was on, and watched a little. He saw five minutes and exclaimed, ‘This explains everything. I should have watched this movie before I married you!’

Enough said.

 

Today launches the Children’s Book Council of Australia week, from Friday 18 August to Thursday 23 August, to celebrate children’s books.

The awards for the Book of the Year will be announced today at noon. The categories include:

• Older Readers – 13-18 years
• Younger Readers – 8-12 years
• Early Childhood – 0-7 years
• Picture Book of the Year – 0-18 years – the story is primarily told through illustrations
• Eva Pownall Award – 0-18 years – the main focus is a factual account
• Crichton Award for New Illustrators – 0-18 years – to encourage new talent

My favourite book of all the shortlisted titles is How to Bee – you can read my review about this quirky and original story with a strong voice here.

The shortlist is a great reading list if you are looking to encourage your children to read quality literature.

Schools and kindergartens often hold a dress-up day for Book Week. Over the years, my kids have dressed up as:

• Fancy Nancy – you can never add too many accessories!
• Hagrid – Mr 9 did not have the necessary height or girth but he gave it a good shot with a cushion stuffed under his top and a black beard attached to his chin
• witches – think Witch School, Meg and Mog etc
• Alice in Wonderland – this was my costume one year when I was rostered on kinder duty for book week! I wore a blue dress, tucked a white tea-towel around my waist for an apron, and of course, wore a blue headband in my hair.

This post from Allison Tait might give you some more ideas for Book Week dress-ups, particularly if you have a cloak – useful for all kinds of characters, particularly if your kids are fond of the Ranger’s Apprentice series.

While this week is more for younger kids to celebrate books and have a fun day, let’s not forget the importance of encouraging kids of all ages to read. Mr 14 recently had his parent-teacher interviews and he was encouraged by at least half of his teachers to read – more often and more widely. Readers make leaders!

 

There are a lot of things I love but I particularly love bookshops. I love the rows upon rows of colourful spines in wooden bookshelves. I love the new releases, displayed with their book covers facing out and often a staff recommendation attached. I love the bibliophile merchandise – the mugs, the tote bags, the pencil cases – there for anyone who wants to declare their love of reading. I love the people who work there, who tell you they stayed up all night reading the book you are about to buy and recommending another author to try. And I love the atmosphere of possibility, of escape, of knowledge, of entertainment, of debate, of shared ideas.

The Love your bookshop organisation recently blogged about 5 reasons why you should support your local bookshop. I agree with all of them. And here are mine –

1. Buying a book supports an author – one step away from bookshops are the authors who write all those books. Did you know that the average yearly income for an Australian author is less than $13,000? That’s why most authors have a job and write during tram rides to work, on their one day off, on the weekends around their kids’ sport, at 5 in the morning or during the midnight hours. Writers often describe their days in shifts – the first shift is paid work, the second is looking after the kids, the third is housework and life admin and the fourth is the odd hour or two to write. That’s why social media and writing workshops and writing festivals are so important because it provides a platform for authors to promote their books.
2. Opens your mind and your heart – hand in hand with knowledge comes empathy. I wouldn’t have any empathy for people of British-Pakistani descent if I hadn’t read Home Fires. I wouldn’t know what it was like to a be a ten-year old girl living through WWII if I hadn’t read The war that saved my life. I’m currently reading Jon Kabat-Zinn’s book, The full catastrophe – and I’m learning meditation to help with my migraines.
3. Local is wonderful! I know the booksellers at my local bookshop – they ask about my writing, I ask them for recommendations and we have a shared discussion about books. I’m supporting a local business, they’re providing me with choices and community. And I’m not paying for postage or packaging.
4. I’m buying a book that I can share with others. If I buy children’s fiction, my kids will read it. I often share my children’s books with teachers at my kids’ schools, and I share adult fiction bookswith my friends.
5. It’s for me – I’m buying myself a few hours of entertainment, or escapism or daydreaming or  general knowledge or writing knowledge, which can lead to shared discussions with others.

I hope you find time tomorrow to go out and support your local bookshop, strike up a literary conversation, support an author and grow your mind and heart and community!

This little adventure happened to me yesterday, and I thought I’d use it as a story example. Perhaps it might help you or your kids in writing stories.

Set-up – My petrol light had been flashing low for a day, and I decided I’d better fill it up now, rather than tomorrow. Even though it was almost five o’clock in the evening and I could potentially be caught up in a little traffic. Even though I just wanted to go home and start cooking my chicken curry.

Inciting incident – I pulled up in front of the petrol tank, jumped out of the car and started to flick the petrol cap open. But it didn’t open. I yanked it. Still didn’t open.

I stood for a minute, confused. Maybe I should press a button from inside the car? But this is what I always do! But maybe this isn’t what I always do?

First attempt to solve problem – I sat back in the driver’s seat and looked at all the buttons – the same buttons that I’ve looked at for the past ten years while driving this car. Nope. There was definitely no button to flick open the petrol cap.

I jumped back out, yanked on the petrol cap but it didn’t budge. I thought of the flashing orange light, indicating a low tank of petrol and of the hour or so of driving I needed to do tomorrow.

Second attempt to solve problem – So I called out to the man next to me who had just finished filling his car with petrol. ‘Excuse me, would you mind helping me with my petrol cap? I think it just needs some more force.’

Secondary characters – The very kind man, and his equally kind friend, spent five minutes trying to help me. They agreed there was indeed no button to click open the cap and they did not want to force the cap. Google suggested I lock, then unlock the car, but that didn’t work.

I thanked them, and said I would call my car service centre.

Third attempt to solve problem – Once home, I called the car service centre and was put through to a lovely man, Stefan. I followed his instructions for manually overriding the petrol cap from over the phone. Open the boot. Lift the mat. Find the triangle piece of felt in the corner. Take it off. Locate the white control box.

Dark night of the soul when all is lost – Couldn’t find it. Maybe it was because I was sitting on the open boot, holding the boot mat up with one shoulder, shining the torch on my phone into the black depths of a corner of my car I’d never seen before.

So Stefan sent me a picture of the control box. ‘Lift the felt off the side of the car.’

A moment of hope – ‘I can see it!’

‘Great! Now pull forward between the two white sections. It’ll release the petrol cap.’

A final gathering of courage by the protagonist to solve problem – It moved but it didn’t do anything. I still couldn’t open the petrol cap.

A potential solution – Stefan offered to stay back at work if I could drive my car to the service centre – fifteen minutes away.

‘I’ll have another go, then I’ll drive over if I’m not successful,’ I said.

I called Mr 14 – who had spent the day on the couch sick – to help. ‘I just need you to hold up the mat and then shine the torch here. It’s so I can open the petrol cap.’

‘Like this, Mum?’ he asked, flicking open the petrol cap.

The ending – ‘Yes! Exactly like that!’

Now, don’t judge me – because I wrote this story in five minutes! It’s ok for a first draft – all the material is there. But this is where it gets interesting.

Let’s develop the main character. Instead of a woman in her forties, let’s imagine she’s in her twenties. Instead of needing a tank full of petrol for driving kids around, maybe she needs her car for a work conference where she’s presenting a paper on new ovarian cancer trials to a room full of doctors and journalists. Or maybe she needs her car to visit her dying father – it’s a two-hour trip and she needs to leave immediately. Or maybe she’s about to go on a date, and she’s already running late.

Setting – instead of a ten-year-old car, maybe it’s brand new. What does that say about our character? Or maybe it is indeed a ten-year-old car – what does that say about our character? Is she in the street, trying to fix her car? Maybe someone walks by and has a conversation with her. Does that person walk on or do they stop to help? Maybe it’s raining and her freshly dried hair is now looking limp.

Theme – maybe the theme is kindness. After all, three strangers gave up their time to help me. Or maybe it’s about the character learning that she needs to be more organised and fill up the car with petrol the moment that lights flashes (ahem!). Perhaps the theme is taking a risk – that woman is more capable than she thought.

Problems – if we’re turning this little incident into a story, we need more problems. Maybe the woman can’t unlock the petrol cap, and she needs to drive to the car service centre and ask the mechanic, Stefan, for help. Maybe she misses her date, but she connects with Stefan and realises she’d rather be with him. Maybe Stefan lost his mother to ovarian cancer and wants to support our woman character to present her paper. Or perhaps the person walking by the street when she’s trying to unlock the cap wants to help her but she refuses his help because he went through university with her and mocked her publicly in a presentation. Maybe she can’t sort out the car problem, gives up and catches an Uber instead to her presentation and is an embarrassingly half an hour late, running to the podium at the last minute.

Antagonist – there wasn’t really an antagonist stopping me from unlocking the petrol cap but our story would definitely need one to add interest. Maybe it’s Stefan, who could have fixed the problem in a minute but decided he couldn’t be bothered because he didn’t like young women who drove fancy cars and expected quick service. Maybe it’s the old university colleague who mocked her.

Can you see all the possibilities here? I think we have the potential for a literary masterpiece – all from this one tiny real-life incident! It’s a good example to show kids how they can use their own holiday or weekend events to create a story.

And if you ever need to manually override the lock for your petrol cap, I’m your girl!

 

My bookclub discussed this book, Home fire by Kamila Shamsie a couple of nights ago. Thank you, L, for a great choice! Home fire was published in 2017, long-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2017 and won the Women’s Prize in 2018.

It’s a remarkable story, told by five different viewpoints. First we have Isma, 28 years old, a British-born Pakastani woman who is interrogated on her way from London to Massachusetts, where she’ll study sociology. She’d given up her dreams of studying seven years ago when her mother died, leaving her with her twelve-year-old brother, Parvaiz, and his twin sister, Aneeka, to raise. While in Massachusetts, she meets the son of the British Home Secretary, Eamonn. Isma already knows who he is – his father as a MP made a cruel comment to her family about her jihadist father who left when she was young. Isma and Eamonn become friends, but it never develops into the something more that Isma hopes for.

When Eamon leaves to go back to London, he ‘arranges’ to meet Aneeka, the beauty of the family. At nineteen, she is studying law. Although she’s initially hostile to Eamonn, she initiates a relationship with him. Eamonn is besotted for a few months, until Anneka tells him she wants his father to allow Parvaiz back into the country.

Parvais has spent the last few months in Syria. He was groomed by Farooq, who told him his father was a hero, and that Parvais should try to emulate him. Fatherless from birth, Parvais is an easy target, but struggles to follow the Isis culture.

The last two sections are told from Aneeka’s viewpoint, then Karamat Lone, Eamonn’s father. I’m not going to explain any further, otherwise I’ll spoil the story for you!

There’s so much sadness in this book. Isma longs for a relationship and then finds out that her sister has what she wants. Aneeka, forever connected with Parvais in their special twin way, feels desolate when he is gone. Parvais’s account of his time in Syria is brutal.

I read the ending at the kitchen table, a few hours before our bookclub meeting, and literally covered my face as I read the last page. No spoiler alert here, but be warned!

It’s a topical, contemporary book which shows many viewpoints and covers many settings, from London, Pakistan, Istanbul, Syria and the US. It’s based on the Greek play, Antigone, by Sophocleous.

Sarah Sands, the judge for the Women’s Prize explained –

“To humanise a political story in that way really does show what literature can do, that it can tackle a hard subject that otherwise would never have that sense of layered sympathy and understanding. It really advanced our understanding of the whole issue of identity.”

In this brief video interview with author Kamila Shamsie, she explains that the heart of the novel is about competing loyalties and loves.

It’s an excellent bookclub book because there’s so much to discuss. I’m still thinking about this book days after finishing it. It’s definitely one of my top ten reads for the year!

It’s such a dramatic title, isn’t it? The war that saved my life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley is a middle-grade book for 10-12 year-olds, and is a Newbery Honor book. Miss 11 read it a while ago and has told me many times that I needed to prioritise it because I would ‘just love it’ and she was absolutely right.

Ada, the nine-year-old protagonist, lives with her mother and younger brother, Jamie, in a single room above a pub in London. It’s 1939, and children are being evacuated due to concerns about the Germans bombing London. Ada’s mother is absolutely horrible to Ada – mainly because she has a club foot. Ada isn’t allowed to leave their room and she’s miserable while Jamie is at school.

Ada decides to teach herself to walk, despite great pain. This means she can escape with Jamie early one morning on the day the children at Jamie’s school are evacuated to the country. Ada and Jamie are the last children to be billeted out, possibly because of their dirtiness and Ada’s cross demeanour. They are taken to Susan’s house, a single lady who is still mourning the loss of her best friend, Becky.

At Susan’s house, Ada finds out that her twisted foot could have been fixed with an operation when she was a baby. This gives her another reason to hate her mother. While life with Susan has its difficulties, Ada makes new friends, watches for German spies, learns to ride a pony and most importantly, begins to trust Susan.

Miss 11 enjoyed learning about the war – references to Germans and ration cards and blackouts are skilfully woven into the story so that all the historical facts are integral to the story, rather than artificially thrown in.

Ada’s voice is strong. Here’s the first page –

‘Ada! Get back from that window!’ Mam’s voice, shouting. Mam’s arm, grabbing mine, yanking me so I toppled off my chair and fell hard to the floor.

‘I was only saying hello to Stephen White.’ I knew better than to talk back, but sometimes my mouth was faster than my brain. I’d become a fighter that summer.

Mam smacked me. Hard. My head snapped back against the chair leg and for a moment I saw stars. ‘Don’t you be talkin’ to nobody!’ Mam said. ‘I let you look out that window out a’ the kindness of my heart, but I’ll board it over if you go stickin’ your nose out, much less talkin’ to anyone!’

‘Jamie’s out there,’ I mumbled.

‘And why shouldn’t he be?’ Mam said. ‘He aint’ a cripple. Not like you.’

Wouldn’t you read on, too? We have a strong, feisty protagonist who has become a fighter, maybe because of her bad leg and is struggling against the antagonist, her mother.

There is a sequel, The war I finally won. When you enjoy a book so much, it’s wonderful to know that there is an equally enjoyable sequel.

While I loved Alice in Wonderland as a kid, I still identify with her story as an adult. I took Miss 11 and her friend to see the ACMI Alice in Wonderland exhibition yesterday.

The exhibition is timed, so I booked online for 11am – a perfectly civilised school holidays time to be in the city. But we were slightly late. I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date. Oh, the irony in being late white rabbit style! But it didn’t matter at all, and we were ushered down the rabbit hole for a wonderful display of the various different ways Alice has been depicted from the publication of Lewis Carroll’s book in 1865 to the 21st century.

Our favourite section was the Mad Hatter’s tea party. The ten minute wait was worth it – we sat on white wooden chairs around a cluster of white tables with white crockery. We watched a four minute film which was shown on the surrounding walls of the room, as well as the table and crockery. There were quotes from the book, scenes of dreamlike images and the crockery kept changing patterns.

I flicked through my copy of Alice at home and found some of my favourite quotes –

“Who are YOU?” said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I–I hardly know, sir, just at present– at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

Sometimes it seems that when I wake up in the morning I know exactly who I am and what I need to do but by the end of the day, I may have turned into several different people! One moment I am a writer merging two chapters into one, the next minute I am a mother organising playdates, then I have morphed into an uber driver, a chef, a workshop presenter …

Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

It’s not the believing that’s tricky – it’s the achieving! Dreaming up six impossible things before a breakfast green smoothie is fine – it’s getting them done that’s the challenge.

The ACMI exhibition is on until October 7th – it’s definitely worth a visit, both for children and adults. Miss 11 and her friend enjoyed following the Wonderland map for the curious and finding all the links, and I enjoyed all the displays of the art, costumes and history.

Curioser and curioser!