Writing
This was taken as I edited a novel a few moments ago. Technically both kids have been asleep at the same time for over an hour, so – yay. Bloggy blog and back to the novel.
Ch-ch-ch-changes
I’ve finally bitten the bullet and discarded Louise Curtis as my primary writing name. I’ll now use Felicity Banks – since that is, in fact, my name. Also, it’s easier to spell. So my blog is now felicitybanks.wordpress.com.
My twitter is @FBanksBooks
Facebook is https://www.facebook.com/FelicityBanksBooks
Pitch Me A Pitch
Conflux is Canberra’s annual speculative fiction conference. I’m there most years, one way or another – wandering around in garb (see pic at right), going to sessions, leading sessions (!), and of course pitching.
Pitching is when writers get five or ten minutes one-on-one with a publisher or agent to try to convince them to read their novel. Usually the writers are required to send in their first three chapters, synopsis, and bio beforehand (so those who want to pitch can be whittled down into a reasonable number, and sometimes so that the publisher/agent gets an idea of the book beforehand).
The first time I ever pitched was in New Zealand – I literally flew to New Zealand for that ten minutes (then the exact same publisher came to Conflux the next year!) The worst pitch I ever did was to someone who had read the first chapters and thought the entire book was all a dream because there were pirates in it, and pirates are apparently all imaginary (what the. . . ?!)
Quite a few people who let writers pitch novels to them will read all the opening chapters they’re offered during the pitch (including, luckily, the one in New Zealand). Others will pick one beforehand, and read only that one. Still others are genuinely making up their minds in the moment.
This year, no-one read our opening chapters, so I didn’t have my usual advantage (a LOT of beginning writers are truly terrible, so among unpublished authors my writing usually looks pretty good). Without quite naming anyone, here’s what pitching was like this year (I literally pitched a book to everyone – got a bit excited after being too sick to write for so long due to pregnancy).
Pitch # 1: An Agent
I pitched my newest book (YA fantasy, “Flight of Fancy”) to her, on the basis that if she was shocked that it actually wasn’t polished enough to send, at least I hadn’t looked unprofessional directly to a publisher. In truth, I used her as motivation to finish the book – and she was extremely useful for that!
I’d actually never pitched to an agent before. In Australia, agents aren’t essential to the publishing process. Also, they are just as hard-working and underpaid as publishers, and tend not to take risks. Some Australians only use an agent AFTER receiving an offer for publication (so the agent can look at the contract and negotiate terms), and I may well end up using her for that some day.
She was extremely friendly (a common phenomenon in pitches) and after I described the plot she said how much she loved fantasy’s ability to talk about real-life problems such as mental illness in a different way. That is also one of my favourite things about fantasy, and I felt like we really connected. She was more than happy to look at “Flight of Fancy” when it’s ready, and I blurted out a bit about my steampunk YA novel because it’s ready to go and seems really well suited to her – but it’s already done the rounds of quite a few publishers (which is bad for agents, because publishers won’t look at something twice). She said slushpile rejections are fine, so I should send it to her with a detailed submission history.
I finished the post-TJ edit of the YA steampunk that day, and sent it to her. I’m quite excited by the idea of having an agent in my corner, but she said up front she takes ages to read things. . . so we’ll just see. I’ll send her “Flight of Fancy” late this year – probably before she finishes the YA steampunk.
Still, that’s two “yes” answers from one pitch – a good start!
One of the most interesting things about that pitch was that she said most publishers are dead-set against anything labelled “steampunk” (as my daughter would say, “NOOOO!!!! WHYYYYYYY?????????”). Readers still like it, so steampunk sells as “gaslight fantasy”, “Victorian paranormal”, “Urban fantasy”, “Alternate history” etc.
She also said about “Flight of Fancy” – “Can you make it a bit longer?” Which I can – especially when there’s so much editing to do. Hopefully an extra 5000 words qualifies as “a bit” (when I emailed her the YA steampunk I asked if it was).
Pitch #2
This was the pitch that was the most important to me, because the publisher (what I call a “medium” publisher because they’re certainly not one of Australia’s six biggest publishers, but I’ve read several of their authors) really likes Australian female fiction and “things other publishers wouldn’t dare take on”. My YA steampunk has a female protagonist (like most of my books), is set in Australia, and has a major character who turns out to be gay.
The person was unusual in her manner – thoughtful rather than friendly (not that she was UNfriendly, but she wasn’t going out of her way to put me at ease – and I could tell she wasn’t going to read the book just to be nice, which was scary at the time).
When I explained the plot of the book her face lit up. It turned out she doesn’t usually like steampunk (despite the fact it was specifically mentioned online as something this publisher will accept!) because of the upper-class stuff – but because my series is all about dismantling the so-called superiority of the higher classes, it sounded great. Could I please send it to her? (Yes – but not until December, because it happens to be in a contest-type thing and I can’t send it elsewhere until the results are announced. She understood perfectly.)
That was a close-run thing, and all the more satisfying as a result. It’ll be interesting to see how she likes it when she reads it.
Pitch # 3
This was a large publisher – or at least, large enough that any writer would have heard of them. It was a slightly-awkward pitch because the actual person listening to pitches represents the adult fantasy section, and I was pitching my YA steampunk novel (I called it “YA alternate history” based on the agent’s advice – and it seemed to work).
This was another publisher who was making up her mind as she went along. She was very friendly, and even stopped to chat to us outside afterwards (brave, since she’d said no to at least one person in the room).
I was very clear it was a young adult book. . . but she said it sounded so good she hoped to be able to keep it for the adult department. This was a huge and pleasant surprise (I’ve actually had VERY slow responses from that exact publisher in the past, so I didn’t expect enthusiasm at all). It’ll be interesting to see if she is still enthusiastic when I actually send it to her (in December, because of that contest – again, she understood the situation perfectly and didn’t mind at all).
Pitch # 4
This publisher is small – I recognise the name of one of their authors, but haven’t read his books – and has an incredibly enthusiastic vibe, so I felt very confident they’d just say yes to everyone who pitched. I met several of the staff in the dealer’s room the previous day, so that gave me a bit of a sense of them too.
Being aware that small publishers tend not to pay advances (unfortunately, most books make a LOSS for most publishers – they’re kept afloat by the rare successes – but a small publisher can’t take financial risks like that), I chose a book that has been rejected very thoroughly in a lot of places.
It was a pretty friendly pitch, and they gave me a card and said to send them the whole thing. There were two unusual things – first, there was a second person in the room. To this day, I don’t know what her position in the company is (and I promptly forgot her name in the general nervousness, so I can’t even google her). Secondly, they asked, “Why are you pitching this book to us instead of someone else?” Instead of saying, “Well, everyone on Earth other than you has already rejected it” I chose the other honest reply – that they’re a vibrant, exciting, fast-moving publisher, and it seemed like fun. And of course mentioned that I’d written a book since TJ was born, and can produce books pretty quick if required. And that the YA fantasy book I was pitching was the first in a trilogy (which was written, but needed to be re-written), that was linked by the setting to a kids’ trilogy which is entirely finished and polished (I didn’t even realise until later that they also publish kids’ books).
Oh! The other unusual thing: At their book launch the previous night, the publisher had been chatting to someone and told them to come pitch their book (I met her in the waiting room, and declared that we’d be their children’s line). So, like I said, enthusiastic.
They requested the full manuscript. I hadn’t looked at it for a long time, so I gave it an extremely hasty edit and emailed it to them about midnight that very night (since I’d said how cool it was that they were fast-moving, it seemed wrong to not send it on the day). I was very pleasantly surprised by how good my book is after all this time – perhaps I shouldn’t have been, because a lot of the people who rejected it gave me great advice on fixing it, and I took it all.
Pitch # 5
Another medium publisher – and another person I’d met in the dealer’s room.
She also asked, “Why this publisher?” and I gave what amounted to a general “why a medium publisher?” answer – that is, they’re willing to take risks (with unusual writing, I mean) and they tend to like stuff set in Australia. The book I was pitching was a YA realist novel (set among a group of geeks), mainly because it was the best book that wasn’t earmarked for anyone else, or actually sitting on someone’s desk waiting for a reply.
It was actually HER first time pitching, which was funny to me (having spent much of my day in a room of deeply nervous writers). She gave me a piece of paper with instructions on how to send the first three chapters – ie she was clearly going to read everyone’s opening chapters. Which suits me fine. It was a relief NOT to send the whole book, because I’ve done two manic edits in the last week – plus a bunch of manic writing lately on “Flight of Fancy” – so all I had to do was check over the first three chapters and send it.
In the email, I made it clear that I usually write YA fantasy, so if the writing seems good but the book doesn’t suit them, I’d very happily send them something else (once it’s free). I’m not sure I made the right choice of novel, but I’m still grateful that she gave me the benefit of the doubt.
The book is so unusual that there may not ever be a publisher who likes it – I suppose it deserves one last chance at publication before I give up on it. The manuscript assessor I hired adored it, and I think the opening won $75 in a contest, too. But neither of those means much when it comes to publication.
All in all, an extremely exciting weekend. It’s fun to be back in the saddle writing-wise, and sad to realise that I’ve been excited so many times before, and never got a publishing contract out of it.
My lack of health is frightening at the moment. I can write, but almost everything else is hazardous or impossible. It would be nice if life was like fiction – if you work hard enough, follow your dreams, and have a desperate need to succeed – you will.
But I’ll keep working on my health, and hopefully I’ll be able to do some properly paid work early next year. In the meantime, at least I can write.
Triumph
A couple of nights ago, I finished a novel. This is hardly. . . er. . . novel, since I’ve now written fourteen altogether (Gee Crikey Willikers, Etc) – and that’s only the ones I’ve finished.
Last year I tried the Mirena contraceptive, hoping it’d help solve some of the health issues left over from pregnancy #1. Instead it made things epically, spectacularly (but temporarily) worse. It took longer to remove than usual, and during those horrid months I had to take sick leave because the Mirena made me so depressed (and sick, but I could almost handle that). Desperate to find a way out of the pit, I started a novel.
The Mirena was removed, and I felt it was better to get on with pregnancy #2 than to sit around being unhealthy and miserable for longer. We conceived more or less instantly (scroll down for pics of the results…) which was great, but meant I had maybe a fortnight before the nausea etc completely took over my life. I did Christmas shopping, took extra shifts at work, visited friends like I was about to go on holidays, and so on. Although I’d hoped to finish the novel, it didn’t happen. Once that fortnight passed, I knew it would likely never be finished. It was 33,000 words long (more than halfway through a young adult first draft), and was by no means the worst novel I’ve ever attempted. So that was a shame.
Fast forward to this year. TJ is here and although he’s super easy in most ways, it’s been a long time since he’s settled during the day except in my arms. So I’m rooted in place for around twelve hours a day (even when CJ comes home, because he can’t hold TJ while doing the dishes), and watching the effect of yet more neglect on Louisette (who’s had a very sick mum for a year now) is heartbreaking.
Since Louisette was born, I’m largely mentally healthy – except when physical problems persist more than a couple of weeks. Which would be fine if my health was average, but it’s only been three and a half months since the last (and, thankfully, final) pregnancy, and it’ll be another nine months before the hormones finish leaving my system – then who knows how long to fully recover after that, but definitely years for weight alone (I was in the healthy weight range when we began trying to conceive the first time). So this time around I have post-partum depression. Awesome. And a MASSIVE debt due to pregnancy illness. Oh, and right now I have bronchitis for the THIRD time since having kids – and it’s no coincidence that each time followed a few weeks of gentle, controlled weight loss. I can’t win. (It’s awfully early to be deliberately losing weight post-partum, but I weigh so much now that it’s a serious issue all by itself.)
It’s really hard to imagine life even a few weeks from now, when things will likely be utterly different on the TJ front. I work hard to remember how quickly babies change, and that the worst is over, and that there is an outside world.
Once again I turned to writing, because I feel awful about my parenting at the moment, and I needed the other side of myself to take me out of the crapness.
Long story short, I wrote a novel. I wrote it in a month, from concept to (first-draft) completion – a large chunk of that WITH a baby on my lap and a toddler on the whine, often causing me to write one-handed, stopping and starting as the baby stirred or the toddler made a new demand. Or I had to stop for another painful bout of coughing.
It always takes courage to write a book, and after the first one the hardest book is the one you write when so, so many other books have been so, so rejected. It takes a special kind of courage as a parent – and, let’s face it, as a mother in particular because that’s how our world tends to work – because you need to actually convince yourself from moment to moment that writing for an hour a day (or however much) is more important than sleep, or playing with the kids, or cleaning, or seeing another doctor, or having an adult conversation.
That’s something I do believe, which is an extraordinary thing. After all these years, I still believe in my writing more than virtually anything else.
I really, really hope I’m not wrong.
Louisette tells a story
I’m reading a paperback version of “The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There” by Catherynne M. Valente because it’s the second book in a trilogy and only the first and third are available on my sweet, sweet kindle.
Louisette picked it up today and looked at the picture on the front (featuring the young female heroine), then when I offered to read it to her she said no, she’d read it to me. I realised at once what was about to happen: I was about to hear her invent a story for the first time!!!
She flipped through the pages and said, “The girl is talking.”
And that was that – her rather accurate guess at what the book contained.
A couple of minutes later I asked her to read the book again, and tell me what happened.
“The girl is in a house,” she said.
“What does she do next?” I asked.
“Walk.”
“Then what happens?”
“She see a man.”
“Oh! And then what happens?”
“Cake!”
That is truly the end of every good story in Louisette’s world at present. I’m delighted to have been there for her first story.
In other news, at dinner we were discussing the pork on her plate (I told her it came from pigs and she said that no, it came from her – she also “corrected” me on left and right today, and informed me that my song choices were wrong) and she said, “A long long time ago Daddy live on a farm with lots of sheep and a horse.” Not only is this a wonderful long sentence, but it is absolutely factually correct (at least as far as *I* know): CJ grew up on a sheep farm (and yes there was a horse too, at some stage – Louisette has seen the photos).
Speaking of dinner, here she is making a village out of zucchini and carrot slices (she made a tower first, then changed her design). Note the consistency of construction. I can truthfully say if anyone asks that Louisette loves her vegetables.
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.
Self-Publishing
I’m toying with the idea of self-publishing one of my books online, and I’d welcome your thoughts. It needs to be one that is good, but has been rejected by at least six publishers (sadly, that still gives me a choice of book). Realistically, self-publishing is just a new kind of slushpile, with an even smaller statistical chance of success. Still, I may as well try something new – it’s not like I don’t have an online presence!
This is why it will cost readers more than ninety-nine cents.
Making money as a writer
Someone on a writing forum said they “need” to finish their novel, both because the story won’t let them go and because they need the money.
This is some of what I said, which clearly not enough people are saying:
First rule of writing is never ever write for money. Here’s some reasons, as briefly and coldly stated as possible:
1. Publishers lose money on most of the books they produce (it’s the few bestsellers that keep them from going bankrupt). The market is just not big enough (think, for example, of how many books YOU have bought in the last year – and as a writer you’re a much more avid reader than 99% of the population). This means the advance is usually all the author gets. Which means (a) small publisher = small advance, so that won’t work for you (nor with print on demand or self-publishing, which despite the much-repeated success stories are MUCH less likely to get any money at all), and (b) your total profit for your book will be between $3000 and $10,000. Keep in mind that most writers tend to average a book a year IF they write full time.
2. You are not special. Major publishers receive literally hundreds of manuscripts each week. I recently went to a conference where there was a higher-up from a major publishing house (I don’t want to name them, but I guarantee you’d recognise the name). She mentioned that they’d just had a five year period where they did not publish a single book from the slush pile. She was excited because they’d changed their slushpile system and had published three whole slushpile books in two years. She was super pleased about that. . . . which works out to a one in 10,000 chance of publication….in a good year.
3. I personally have done okay as a writer. I’ve won or placed in more contests than I can remember without referring to notes (including three or four longer-manuscript contests). Five of my books have been recommended for publication by five different manuscript assessors. Publishers have requested the full manuscript after seeing sample chapters (this happens to about 5% of manuscripts in the slush pile – the rest just aren’t very good) more than twenty times.
Altogether I’ve written thirteen novels over thirteen years. At least one of them has been to an acquisitions meeting at a world famous publisher (ie when the head publishers sit down with books that deserve publication, and decide which ones to publish). Not a single one is published.
So don’t write for money. Third world sweatshops pay better – literally.
You will probably never be published.
If you are, you probably won’t get a career (a publisher probably won’t make money on you, therefore will not publish you again – even though it’s a series).
If you are extremely successful, you’ll probably earn around $5000/year.
I’ve probably given you a pretty bad day – but wouldn’t you rather know now than after thirteen years of trying?
By all means, write. But write for love.
Middle Earth versus Narnia
I’ve just finished re-reading the seven-book Narnia series by C. S. Lewis*and I’m also an admirer of the Lord of the Rings trilogy by Tolkien. Around the time the Lord of the Rings movies came out, there were heated arguments at parties everywhere**about whether the Narnia series or the Lord of the Rings series is better.
I was going to begin a seven-week series of Narnia reviews today, but I’m JUST about to get my greasy mitts on “Goliath” by Scott Westerfeld, so I’ll review that in seven days’ time and then start on Narnia.
In the meantime, here’s a pre-review review:
CS Lewis and Professor Tolkien were close friends, part of a writing group called Inklings. Many members of the group were killed fighting in World War 2. Who knows what other books might have been written if the whole group had lived.
Leaving aside The Hobbit and all the other works by each author, there are some notable similarities and differences.
Both men were Christian, which is clear from reading their books if you’re into symbols (much, much clearer in Narnia’s Aslan character than in Middle Earth – in which the clearest parallel is the nature of Gandalf’s death). Both Lewis and Tolkien distrusted industry, and featured images of fighting trees (yay) and evil loggers (boo). Both wrote tales of high adventure, personal honour, and selfless sacrifice. Both featured heroes who were flawed but who could not be mistaken as anything but great heroes.
I believe that if the Narnia books were sent to a publisher by an unknown author today, they would be published.
I believe that if the Lord of the Rings books were sent to a publisher by an unknown author today, they would not be published. *gasp*
CS Lewis was writing in the 50s, so naturally women were not allowed to fight in the front lines (they could shoot arrows from the sidelines, but none ever wielded a sword), and baddies tended to be dark-skinned (or, in the case of the Black Dwarves, black-haired). However he has excellent heroic warlike female characters, and gracious and noble dark-skinned characters (Aravis is both).
Tolkien is infamous for having almost no female characters whatsoever, but he does mention (either in passing or in the Silmarilion) some truly awesome females – who fought in battles as well as any man. They did tend to be defined by the men they loved, which is a shame.
The true reason I think Lewis would be published today and that Tolkien would not is that first of all, Tolkien’s fantasy is for adults. Adult fantasy is simply harder to sell than children’s fantasy (and if we’re honest, it’s partly because adult fantasy fiction is just. . . long). But the main reason is that Lewis actually stuctured his Narnia books like modern books – starting with action/danger/conflict within the first few pages and never spending huge swathes of time on decription, rambling tangents, or – cosmic bunny save us – poetry. Lewis also has a brilliant eye for the tiny detail that makes a scene come alive.
Tolkien was predominantly a linguist – not a storyteller. I for one am grateful he was writing back when the market was quite different, and his books didn’t get rejected with the note “Needs editing”. As a modern reader (and I do read), I prefer the Lord of the Rings movies. I’m sorry, but it’s true. On the other hand, I understand that no writer in the past, present or future could create a world as rich and complex and fantastic as Tolkien did. I’m even a little glad that he didn’t get edited (as we all know, Tom Bombadil is largely irrelevent to the main plot, and would certainly be cut along with many other wonderful scenes, characters, and descriptions).
If I’m going to read a book, I pick Narnia every single time. I was pleasantly surprised this last week by how well written they are. No other classic books translate so well to the smart, focused modern reader.
And now I shall duck and cover as the argument continues.
In other news, one of my own books has been at a certain large Australian publisher for three years now. I have just discovered that the particular individual who I knew very well was holding things up has stopped working there. Which means there’s a small chance I’ll get a response in the next month or two, and a very good chance I’ll have a response in 6-12 months (ie the normal response time).
If I’d sent the book in via the slushpile, I’d have had an answer over two years ago. Kids, contacts in the biz aren’t always a good thing.
*Fun fact: The “C.S.” stands for “Clive Staples”. Abbreviation is sometimes a VERY good idea.
**This tells you exactly the kinds of friends I cultivate.
Versatile Blogger Award
I am, according to General Happenings in my House, hereby awarded a Versatile Blogger award! Thank you 🙂
My duties, upon receiving this much-coveted honour, are as follows:
1) Thank the awarder by linking back to their blog;
2) Pass on this award to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know I have done so;
3) List 7 things about myself.
Here are some great blogs (in no particular order):
1) Ripping Ozzie Reads – an accomplished group of Australian specfic writers (including Richard Harland, Rowena Cory Daniells, and Margo Lanagan) share their know-how.
2) Pub Rants – pub as in “publishing”. This is the blog of a US agent – again, lots of great advice.
3) KT Literary blog – another US agent (in fact, she is friends with # 2).
4) Nathan Bransford – US ex-agent and children’s author (again with the advice). He also runs great forums.
5) The Intern – this time it’s a US ex-intern, but her advice is still excellent (more on writing, less on the industry).
6) Behler Blog – this time it’s a US editorial director giving free industry help.
7) Writer Beware – there are a LOT of scams out there designed to prey on writers. This blog investigates, then tells the horrible truth.
8) Call My Agent! – more industry advice, but this time from an anonymous Sydney agent.
9) Terrible Minds – advice, interviews, and very rude rants from author Chuck Wendig.
10) Slushpile Hell – when a writer needs a little more sarcasm in their day.
11) Brass Bolts – a steampunk writer blogs about steampunk (the pics are especially good).
12) Trial by Steam – steampunk articles and events.
13) Multiculturalism for Steampunk – a seriously excellent and well-researched steampunk niche blog.
14) Antipodean Steampunk Adventures – an Australian steampunk who actually builds his own stuff.
15) Blue Milk – a feminist blog on motherhood (not always safe for work).
Well! That list certainly answers the question, “So, Louise, what do you do all day?”
Now for seven things about myself:
1) Umm. . . I attempted my first novel when I was seven years old (it was about a family of cats – naturally).
2) My mum read the Narnia series in hospital after giving birth to me (I’m re-reading it at the moment).
3) I speak semi-fluent Indonesian, and once considered marrying an Indonesian man I was close to.
4) I leave the curtains open until dark most nights in case the sunset is pretty.
5) Only one of my grandparents is still alive, and he is not well.
6) I can juggle.
7) I have pre-ordered “Goliath” by Scott Westerfeld; the third book in his brilliant YA steampunk trilogy (“Leviathan” is the name of the first book).
Thank you and good evening!
Felicity Banks 