writing

The Secret Science of Magic

Way back in late 2012, when Life in Outer Space was just about to become a real book, I started toying with a new idea. The idea was vague – a girl obsessed with failed genius, and a boy with a penchant for card tricks, a sort of star-crossed-lovers tale with maths and magic at its heart. It took a while for the thing to become something more than an idea. A really long while. In fact, it took so long that I managed to write an entire other book in between – The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl was born through this writer (figuratively) tossing her half-finished manuscript across the room, and deciding to read comics instead. Because as it turns out, some books need longer than others to gestate. Some characters are stubborn, and wilful, and only give up their stories after a whole lot of wrangling. Also, advanced maths? Yeah – kinda difficult. But this month, The Secret Science of Magic is finally out in the world. It may have taken longer than I planned, but I’m pretty proud to share Sophia and Joshua’s story – I hope you like it.

Now here are some pics from the very awesome launch that was held at Embiggen Books, Melbourne. There were cupcakes, and an amazing young magician named Lucas, and a whole lot of love from friends, family and the brilliant community of #LoveOzYA fans:

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Happy UK book birthday, The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl!

Cinnamon Girl

Today is the official UK release day of The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl, and I could not be more excited! I love the yellow cover! I love the cape! And I especially love the amazingly warm reception Alba and her friends have already received from some fabulous UK readers and reviewers.

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For the next week, Cinnamon Girl will be on tour – check out these stops for interviews, articles and more:

Cinnamon Girl

If you’re in the UK and would like to talk books, publishing, writing or comics, Maximum Pop are running a competition to win a Skype date with me – I’ll be available for a half an hour writing masterclass, or a Q&A, or for a general natter about life, the universe and everything. Check out the competition here

 

 

Somerset

Yes, okay, it’s been a while. The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl was published late last year, at which time I descended into that peculiar writer’s black hole known as OMG I MADE A BOOK BUT WHAT ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH AM I GOING TO DO NOW??? As with many writers, the answer was:

Eat chips.
Binge watch Netflix. All of it.
Call friends. Receive surprise that one is not dead, nor relocated to Alaska.
Clean everything, twice.
Open a blank page. Cry.
Eat chips.
Start writing.

After a short break over Christmas (where, sadly, no fully-formed manuscript was found beneath my tree), book three is finally starting to take shape. I like my new characters. I’m immersed in research. And I’m enjoying revisiting some old, much-loved friends. It’s probably going to take a while. It’s a slippery, indeterminate thing, this writing business.

Mr Darcy

In the meantime, I’ve been out and about – most recently in the sunny Gold Coast for the Somerset Celebration of Literature. Did I say sunny? I meant HOTTER THAN THE FIRES OF MORDOR. Yeah, it was really, really hot – and also one of the funnest, most awesome literary festivals I’ve been lucky enough to be part of. For three days, a contingent of writers descended on Somerset College for talks, workshops, panel discussions, book signings, dinners, fireworks, ice-cream, and general bookish shenanigans with fifteen thousand young people who passed through the gates.

I hung out with some old writerly friends and made some brand new ones, and met some truly exceptional, interesting students. Big shout out to everyone who came along, everyone who took the time to come visit my signing table for a chat, and the Somerset Festival Committee for organising such a fantabulous event.

And, in the midst of all the festival fun, this happened too:

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THAT’S RIGHT! The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl is long-listed for the 2015 Gold Inky Award! Here’s me, and Inky, and the very lovely Clare Atkins, author of Nona and Me, and all round wonderful writer person. Check out the rest of the Inky list here.

Your manuscript, the director’s cut: editing and second draft blues

image copyright savagechickens.com

Possibly the hardest piece of editorial advice to accept is the suggestion that bits of your writing should be cut. When you’ve slavishly toiled over every word in your first draft, slashing them from your pages again can be sort of heartbreaking. You love ALL THE DETAILS you’ve created for your characters, and you want everyone else to love them too! The layout of the bathrooms in your space station on Zargon Four is REALLY COOL and NEEDS the eighteen pages of description that you have devoted to them!

One of the trickiest lessons to learn as a writer is to trust in your own words. Trust that you’ll probably need to write far more in your first draft, while you’re discovering your characters and your world, than will ever need to make it onto your final pages. Trust that sometimes a paragraph may not be necessary when a sentence or two will convey the same sentiment. And trust that your readers will be able to make the leaps you want them to make, without every infinitesimal detail sketched out for them.

Here is a little example from my novel, Life in Outer Space. No real spoilers here – this is the opening of a chapter early in the book, which gives a bit of background on one of the main character’s best friends. The first version is the paragraph as it was written in the original draft. The second version is the same section of text as it appears in the final book.

Original manuscript:

Adrian and I met in kindergarten when we were four. At least, that’s what Mum tells me. It’s not like I can remember the actual day he walked into my life. I don’t remember a significant incident, a montage of conversations in the sandpit that would change our lives forever or anything like that. Fact is, I just can’t remember a time when Adrian wasn’t around. The earliest Adrian-memories that have stuck are of him falling down a lot. Not being shoved over by arse-faced bullies — that would come later. I remember Adrian just walking over flat ground and then no longer being upright. His mum always says that he took longer than everyone else to learn to coordinate his arms and legs, but I have my own theory. Adrian Radley always had more stuff going on inside his head than the synapses of his brain could cope with. When we were kids, this meant that he’d be thinking about his play lunch, and the park, and about the episode of Dragonball-Z he’d watched that morning, and about fifty billion things he wanted to say to me all at the one time. Now it means the parts of Adrian’s brain that are thinking and the parts that are controlling his mouth are usually having different conversations. Sometimes in different conference rooms. Often, in different countries. If Mike is the brother I never had, then Adrian is the Chernobyl-born cousin who came for a visit and never left. I guess some people enter your orbit and get stuck in your gravity, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it.

Final draft:

Adrian and I met in kinder when we were four. At least, that’s what Mum tells me. It’s not like I can remember the actual day he walked into my life. I don’t remember a montage of conversations in the sandpit that would change our lives forever or anything like that. I just can’t remember a time when Adrian wasn’t around.
If Mike is the brother I never had, then Adrian Radley is the possibly inbreed cousin who came for a visit and never left. I guess some people enter your orbit and get stuck, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it.

 

[For the month of June, I will be writer-in-resident at the fab Inside a Dog – you can read the rest of this post here]

When the words are not your friends

There are many moments in the life of every novel, when the thought of trying to write feels like this:

Avengers 2You know that the ideas you need are somewhere in the murky depths of your brain, but now, they’re stubbornly, and persistently, refusing to surface. Frustration with your own uselessness starts to build, till you’re feeling like this:

Avengers 3Here are a few things I’ve found useful for navigating around writers block:

Write whatever excites you

Avengers 4

The writing gods have bestowed upon you the kernel of an awesome idea – a Viking ship! Trapped in a frozen fjord! Overrun by zombies! You’ve breathlessly begun penning the scene-setting opening chapters, but now, you have no idea how to get your Viking from the tavern in Gokstad to the fateful encounter with the Longship? Leave that bit aside for now. Don’t save up the writing you’re passionate about in order to fill in first-draft plot holes, or while you figure out the geography of a fjord. Maybe you’re desperate to write the big romantic resolution, or the epic battle scene, or maybe you’re dying to use this one great line that you know belongs in the last chapter. Write whatever elicits an emotion. Write whatever scene or piece of scene or sliver of dialogue you feel like writing right at that moment. Write whatever makes you want to return to the pages of your world, whatever motivates you to keep on going, in whatever order that happens to be in. Keep in mind that when you are genuinely stuck, sometimes you need to jump ahead in order to figure out what goes before…

[For the month of June, I will be writer-in-resident at the fab Inside a Dog – you can read the rest of this post here]

The one where I get to talk about comic books…

tumblr_mzam93QGoB1smcbm7o1_250So you have an idea. A persistent something that has gnawed at your brain doggedly enough for you to start jotting it down. You’re getting to know your characters, and laying down the brickwork on the bumpy path that will become your plot. What next? Well – unless you’re writing a real-time testimonial of your own life (mine might be called Girl Who Stares at Computer and Drinks Many Teas) – you’ll probably need to do some research.

Astonishingly, most fiction authors are not in fact experts in every worldly field. Whether your book is set in a suburb that isn’t your own, or on a space station orbiting Pluto – whether your character is a forensic genius or plays the flute or is champion chess boxer (yes that is a thing) – chances are, your story will demand knowledge of some things that are unfamiliar to you. Writers always walk a line between creating their own worlds, which they set the rules for, and ensuring those rules make at least some real-world sense. Bringing into existence another person who has skills that are not yours can be pretty daunting. There’s always the fear of getting something wrong, or simply of being ill-equipped to execute the story you want to tell…

[For the month of June, I will be writer-in-resident at the fab Inside a Dog – you can read the rest of this post here]

Conversations with imaginary friends…

fall-in-love-with-all-the-fictional-characters

I love characters. As a reader, my favourite books are those where I can turn the final page and imagine the characters continuing on with their lives. I want to love them, but I’m okay with occasionally loathing them too. I want to care about them enough to send fictitious hugs when things aren’t going their way (or fictitious butt-kicks, when butt kicks are warranted). I don’t need to like them all the time, but I do need to be invested in their stories. As a reader, I live for a good book hangover; being so absorbed in the lives of make-believe people that I don’t want to say goodbye.

One of the best parts of writing a first draft is getting to know my new characters, and seeing them grow from mere crumbs of an idea, to people who feel like fully formed humans. I love living with them, walking around with them nattering in my head, and I love making decisions that steer them in certain directions and then seeing how those directions play out. There’s nothing cooler than being stuck on a plot point, and having a character give you the answer. In other words, I’m probably more ‘pantser’ than ‘plotter’.**

Here’s an example from Life in Outer Space

[For the month of June, I will be writer-in-resident at the fab Inside a Dog – you can read the rest of this post here]