Artemis Fowl and the Time Paradox
Okay, first up, a confession: I’m heartily sick of time travel tales. They’re just silly (as my Mum pointed out, “If we were ever going to invent time travel, we’d know about it”) and there are too many of them. This has three things in its favour: 1. It’s magic (which actually makes it far less silly – technobabble is unwanted and mercifully unnecessary). 2. It’s a story pitting Artemis against Artemis, which is cool. 3. It’s Eoin Colfer, and I trust him to spin a good yarn.
The rest of the review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Half a year!
Can you believe it?!?! Louisette is already six months old. Project 365 (taking a photo every day for a year) is half over. Things continue to change rapidly: she is taking her first crawling steps (legs only), she says, “Mum” when she wants me to come, and she can sit up unsupported quite happily. It’s a terrifying and thrilling time as she gains the ability to actively promote her own self-destruction.
(Earlier photos can be found at one month, two, three, four and five.)
And the winner is. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . not me!
D’oh!
This isn’t the first time I’ve been this close to publication, and it most likely won’t be the last (although I hope it’ll be the last time I get this close and don’t get published). Text Publishing was kind enough to tell the shortlisted entrants the final result well before the party last night, and I decided to attend anyway.
I arrived in Melbourne as the sun set. . .
. . . and left the following morning.
The party happened at the Carlton Hotel (which, sidebar, is not a hotel – as I discovered the day after I thought I’d booked a room there. By sheer good luck, my ACTUAL hotel – Rydges on Exhibition Street – was a five minute walk away). The function room was up many many stairs, and reminded me uncannily of a Russian brothel I once stumbled into while holidaying in Beijing (true story). The walls were mirrored, but the mirrors were almost obscured by masses of floor-to-ceiling pink leopard spots. A few feature walls were coated liberally in extremely dusty plastic plants of the wide-leaved tropical variety – which were also jammed into nooks and crannies around doorways and among ceiling paraphernalia. Oh, and there was a life-size model of an elephant’s head attached to one wall. Because why not? It all felt rather trippy and imaginary.
I met a LOT of authors, most (or possibly all) of the Text publishing staff, lots of teachers or people who work in the reading biz, and a married couple who own a large chain of bookstores (which, incidentally, are doing very well thanks very much). I had a suspicion going in that Text Publishing as a whole might be a little too literary for my books – people do tend to be either into literary work or into genre work, which I find peculiar. Unfortunately that turned out to be very true: although they’re open to fantasy and have certainly published some, not a single person on staff really loves fantasy. I spent quite a bit of time talking to “the fantasy person” – who actually flinched when I said the phrase “fantasy geek”. She gave me some really excellent editorial comments which could easily take six months to fix (the good kind of “Arg!” in my world).
I do happen to have one rather experimental non-fantasy book that I think would be perfect for Text, so I’ll be sending that off to them within days. I also took advantage of the moment to ask for a job – but they do everything (including slush reading and gallery proofing) in-house and on actual physical paper. So that’s a shame.
And then, as the party began to wind down and I realised I’d met everyone in the room except for two people. . . I met Andy Griffiths. Yes, that Andy Griffiths. Very cool!
I’m home again now, blurry with excitement and sleeplessness, and very pleased to be seeing these blue eyes again after a twenty-four hour gap.
I’m too tired to post the usual month of Louisette photos today – I’ll do that tomorrow.
I also had a great time talking to last year’s Text Prize winner Myke Bartlett, and having him sign an advance copy of his book for me. I’ll be reviewing it here on Friday next week.
Getting “The Call”
I mentioned last week that I’d just received some Rather Good News. Here’s how it happened:
The sun didn’t rise – just clouds and rain, rain, rain on yesterday’s washing. The forecast was for more rain tomorrow, and the day after that. A grey day.
Louisette was sick, and woke me before dawn. I thought I’d recovered from several days of illness, but I was sick twice before I reached her room. Woke CJ to take care of her while I was unable to move from the bathroom. A day of cramps and stench, and an unhappy child left to cry on the floor more than once while mummy was sick.
Nappy after stinking nappy needed to be taken directly to the outside bin, and the rain kept falling. Louisette had nappy rash that made her cry, and I gave up on one product and tried another. I SMSed family members one by one, seeing if anyone could come over and help – to hold Louisette’s bottle while I was sick; stroke her hair when she cried in pain. A day of moving my one pathetic hour of paid work to another day, and crossing my fingers hoping that day was better.
Her feet and hands were cold, and so were mine. Had to leave the bathroom window and door open despite the cold and the danger of our jealous cat expressing herself on the bathroom floor (again). I picked “Fahrenheit 451” from the bookshelf to read while putting Louisette to bed, having just finished the last of the Terry Pratchetts. I thought, “If only I could write this well.” I wondered if I’d eat dinner, and knew I wasn’t healthy enough to run errands. SMSed CJ to pick up some groceries on his way home. A day of going back to bed the instant Louisette closed her eyes, and then waking up to her cries and another urgent series of trips to the loo.
I checked the mail in the pouring rain, because today might just be the day I get a letter from a publisher saying they want to publish one of my books.
It wasn’t the day.
My first attempt at a lunch I could stomach tasted of raw flour (the pack also split when I picked it up and I left slippery white footprints all over the kitchen floor), and by the time the second was ready Louisette was crying for an early feed. I changed her and calmed her and held her while I finished the cold remnants of my food. Her nappy leaked and I put that outfit in the “spray it first” pile. Then I changed her again, and she wet herself, her clothes, her wrap, and the change table right at that perfect, naked moment. A day of doing the washing despite the endless rain, and putting every bit of it in the dryer until the laundry walls were slick with moisture.
A tradesman arrived unannounced – our flat is being sold, and there is a seemingly endless series of jobs that are happening to our home whether we want them or not. He glanced at the flour on the kitchen floor and didn’t say a word. A day of pretending my PJs were regular clothes, and hoping the man whose name I couldn’t remember didn’t notice I wasn’t wearing a bra.
I sat on the floor and cuddled the baby. I put on more nappy cream, washed my hands extra carefully, and gave her medicine to ease the pain of teething. It’s been more than a week without a break, and she still has no teeth. A day of seemingly endless, seemingly pointless pain.
The phone rang, and I thought it was my sister-in-law calling to say she wasn’t able to come over. It was somebody in Victoria – the number started with “03”. As always, I thought, “Is it a publisher?” Except this time it was.
A surprising day!
When she said she was from Text publishing, I knew at once – with the same eerie calm I feel when a motorbike under me slides out of control and I’m going to crash – that I’d done well. Sure enough, I was shortlisted.
An excellent day!
Out of 250 entries, I am in the top three. The winner gets a $10,000 advance and publication. Second and third places get. . . . a warm glowy feeling and a pat on the back. But a 1 in 3 chance is a whole lot better than the usual 1 in 10,000.
A hopeful day!
The details are here.
The winner is announced at the party tonight (Tuesday 17th) – and yes, I’ll be there. (I feel much better now, thank you :P)
The lady speaks
Louisette has said her first word – Mum. She’s also said Dad, and will presumably continue to use them interchangeably for a while until she gets her primary carers sorted out.
This is her, dressed as the very hungry caterpillar (it’s on the label and everything) while eating “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”. Talk about product placement.
Best Tattoo I’ve Ever Seen
Via here
I have a very special steampunk surprise planned for next week. It’s a whole story told in gorgeous pictures with live models (who, in addition to being awfully nice to look at, prove that you don’t need the usual complement of limbs to produce extraordinary work).
Don’t be an idiot (warning: some swearing)
The real title here is: Don’t be a shit.
If you want to be a professional writer, be polite. No matter what. This article by Chuck Wendig (who has a potty mouth with occasional vivid sexual references – but he sure is worth listening to) is worth reading and obeying.
Here’s a bit:
Editors and agents have it tough. They get a lot of shit for being gatekeepers, but here’s what happens at the gate: they stand there, arms and mouths open while a garbage truck backs up (beep beep beep) and unloads a mountain of submissions upon them daily. And, spoiler warning, ninety percent of those submissions won’t cut it. Hell, a not unreasonable percentage are toxic enough that I’m surprised Homeland Security doesn’t show up with hazmat suits and flamethrowers. So, when you annoy them with constant emails, unedited manuscripts, work that’s already been self-published or with crazily presumptive tweets, well, it just puts them one step closer to a water tower with a rifle. I’m not saying every editor and agent is a shining example, but they don’t deserve you acting like a grit of sand in the elastic of one’s underoos.
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Red Dirt Diary 2: Blue About Love
Last week I wrote about my surprise and delight to discover a brilliant new (to me at least) author, Katrina Nannestad. When I really love an author’s first book, I get quite scared to read any more of their work. What if they’re not as good?
The rest of this review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
How to serve vegetables
Fry them.
*ahem*
I’m not big on vegetables, as a rule – although I like potatoes and avocado. I also like butter, garlic, and cheese. Combine all those things and you get an awesomely unhealthy two-vegetable side dish:
Work it, baby
I mentioned on Monday that I’m suddenly looking for full-time work. I figure that with my recent jump in sanity + a return to medication, I should function really well.
I looked at several public service jobs, which reminded me just how unpleasant it is to write applications for a job that is clearly being described by someone who doesn’t know what it is either. But there were a couple that I could probably bluff my way into (skills mental illness teaches: how to fake confidence like a champion). The prospect of actually DOING any of those jobs was a little scary, but I pushed the fear to one side.
Then, for old times’ sake, I searched for babysitting jobs – and suddenly found myself smiling. These were jobs that I’d just enjoy rather than fear – jobs that fit the headspace I was already occupying – jobs where I might even be able to take Louisette with me. . . . which would be cheaper, and so much nicer for my heart and hers.
So I applied for a few. I had an interview yesterday which went really well, and I have another interview in less than an hour. Wish me luck!
In the meantime, Louisette is, suddenly and terrifyingly, on the move. Dangerous objects are mostly safe if they’re at least a metre away in any direction – but not for long. She is fully aware of her ability to reach toys in front of her, and has a good grasp on the first step (pushing herself up on hands and knees) and a tenuous grasp on the second step (diving forward – rather than just flopping back down in the same position or accidentally pushing with her hands and thus going backwards). She generally gets there eventually (unless there’s something shiny nearby).
She is also much better at sitting up, completely unsupported. This is a VERY useful skill for eating (not quite reliable enough to actually be useful yet, but it’s only a matter of time). It also instantly changes her range of non-assisted positions from two to three, which has got to help relieve the tedium of being a baby (like many times in life, it’s simultaneously super exciting and super boring for the participant). As adults, we know sitting up is super useful. All she really knows so far is that she’s generally impressive.
Felicity Banks 