A launch, a festival and a trio of reviews

What a week!
On Saturday I launched my latest children's book (twice) at the Word Café writers and readers festival: once for adults and once for children. Both events were wonderful.

Here's the cake that my lovely friend Zoe made for the celebrations.

 

And here's my equally lovely friend Dawn MacMillan entertaining the kids like the true professional she is.

And here's me looking very pleased with myself.

 

 

Since then my book has had three great reviews online.

• One by Tui Allen on Goodreads.
• One by Barbara Murison on her blog: Around the bookshops.
• And this one by Kaia on Amazon...

"I really recommend this book because it had a lot of describing words that made me get a picture in my mind of what was happening. I like the adventure throughout the book, it made me really exited for what happened next. I would recommend it to people who have a liking for adventure."

  

Thanks Kaia. I'm so pleased that my very first review came all the way from Sweden. The Bold Ship has already travelled a long way!

I need a new book-home, writing studio, bum

The really exciting thing about this photo is not my book (unfortunately), but where it’s taken.

The book (lucky thing) is now living in the writing studio of my wonderful writing colleague Dawn McMillan, where it is among very esteemed company (I hope it is behaving).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dawn’s own (numerous) books are consistent best-sellers. In fact, I Need a New Bum (Libro International, 2012), rarely drops off the New Zealand bestseller list, and if it does, it soon bounces its way back up.

 

Why Do Dogs Sniff Bottoms (Penguin NZ, 2008) is also often there, and her recent picture book, Doctor Grundy’s Undies (Libro International, 2014) (about a pair of flash flying undies) is currently sitting on Whitcoulls Top 10 Books for Children list.

Notice in the picture, there's another of Dawn's books there too!

But Dawn doesn’t only write about bottom-related topics. Colour the Stars (Scholastic NZ, 2012) is about a boy describing to his blind friend what colours smell, feel, taste and sound like. What a fabulous idea! And just one of many when it comes to Dawn’s books      

 

But what I am really jealous of (going back to my book and the company it now keeps) is Dawn’s writing studio.

I suffer from shed-envy in general. I really, really love sheds, especially older rustic ones, and when I spot a promising shed, I love to imagine what I would do in it, if it were mine. There is something special about sheds – their self-containment, and sense of promise that they will, in turn, contain the user, freeing the person to create, build or dream, or any of the other things that people like to do in sheds.

But Dawn’s studio (which after all is just a posh shed) is truly one to be coveted. I have only seen it in this picture, but apparently, in addition to being gorgeous, it looks out over the beach.

To me it looks like writing heaven. No wonder Dawn’s books are so good. If you don’t yet know them, or do but want to find out more about Dawn’s shed and what happens there check out her website or blog.

They’re both as full of life as Dawn is, and she also runs a monthly competition to win one of her books.  Here she is with some of her fans from Te Puru school, doing what all good children's writers do best - reading a book.

 

 

 

     

The structural edit: Conversations about self-publishing for the serially challenged 2

Phew! That was a mission.

I smile to see that, when I decided that the first thing I needed to do to get my manuscript – the Bold Ship Phenomenal – ready for publication was give it a structural edit, I allowed myself two weeks to complete the task.

How long has it taken me? Three months.

This is not the first structural edit mind you. In fact, it is probably closer to the twentieth. Yet when I decided to self-publish, it still seemed essential that I do yet another. The reason, I have realised, is the greater burden – to act as both creator and gatekeeper – that rests on the self-published author.

In a traditional publishing model, you (the author) create something and the publisher says ‘yeah’ or ‘nay’. They are the gatekeeper; the arbiter of quality, freshness, appeal, and of being ‘good enough’. As self-publisher you must fulfil this role yourself. It is your work after all and you must stand by it (hopefully with pride) once it takes its place in the world.

Yet, it is a curious concept this ‘good enough’. One of the pitfalls of the traditional model is that good enough can lead to a lack of ambition and sameness in what is being publishing. Conversely, one of the wonders of the new indie publishing scene is the freedom it affords authors to produce and make publically available new and strangely beautiful and unsettling works.

Yet as any good editor will tell you, it is difficult (some would say impossible) for a writer to gain sufficient distance from their work to see what needs to be done to bring it onto its finest form.
Hence the delay. Rather than being a straightforward matter of shifting bits around, my structural edit has been an angst process of asking ‘Is this right?’, ‘Could this be better?’, ‘Will this appeal to readers in the way I intend, or is the appeal limited to me?’. In short: ‘Is this good enough?’

I have been cheered in this process by Austin Kleon, whose small books (Steal Like an Artist and Show Your Work) I stumbled upon mid-way through. Austin takes a pragmatic and enabling approach to the creative process, urging people to trust in the value of their creativity and put its products out there. (You can listen to his manifesto on stealing like an artist here.)
 

Of particular value was his insight (in Show Your Work) that “you don’t have to be a genius”.  Everyone, he argues, has something to contribute, and it is OK to “be an amateur”.

“Amateurs are not afraid to make mistakes or look ridiculous in public. They’re in love, so they don’t hesitate to do work that others think of as silly or just plain stupid,” he says (Workman Publishing, New York, p.15).

So it is with The Bold Ship Phenomenal. I do love this story. It carries part of me in it. So I must act like an amateur and be willing to put it out there and potentially look ridiculous in public, while at the same time doing everything in my power to make it ‘good enough’. I owe it – I feel – to the story and to the readers who will (again hopefully) one day share it.