Tag: writing

How I (accidentally) wrote a musical*

How I (accidentally) wrote a musical*

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In May this year I will travel to Auckland to attend the world premiere of a musical I created with brilliant composer Andrew Perkins. It is a musical re-telling of The Birds, a classical Greek play by Aristophanes. The original play is witty, biting and has themes that are more relevant today than ever.

An abbreviated concert version of the full musical will be performed by Bach Musica at the Auckland Town Hall, in a double bill with Beethoven, which is some pretty cool company. To be honest, I can’t believe I’m going to see my work performed live with an orchestra, soloists and a full choir. It will definitely be a night to treasure. And it feels somewhat surreal. You see, the musical was written around the edges of my life. So it almost feels like I completed it by accident.

Would you like to write a musical?

I began working on this musical just after I finished my PhD. It was a very welcome distraction from the post-PhD slump that hits many people. Like any big project, when you finish a PhD it can leave you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Having something to move on to helped me drag my way out of the slump. The idea for the musical was Andrew’s. He approached me and asked if I’d be interested in writing the book and lyrics for a work based on an ancient Greek play. The idea was an exciting one and I jumped at the opportunity. I particularly loved Andrew’s aim, which was to create something schools could perform that had great educational underpinnings. The Birds gives schools the scope to explore classical Greek theatre, complex musical forms and socio-historical issues.

We began by reviewing classical plays. Some plays quickly dropped off our list as they were… rather inappropriate for a high school production. Once we had a shortlist of possibilities we soon decided on The Birds, because it encompassed so many of the social and political issues we currently face. The story is about building a wall to keep out undesirable visitors, an event with particular resonance now. But The Birds also tackles themes of environmental degradation and the untrustworthiness of politicians and other power-brokers.

What’s it all About?

To begin the process I went through the play and created an extensive synopsis, which gave us our structure. Andrew then went through and suggested where songs might go. We also discussed key themes and which ones we wanted to highlight. I think we were both staggered by how relevant the themes remain now.  The synopsis was my scaffolding and from that point I worked my way through it, fleshing out dialogue and actions.

Writing the Book

Although Aristophane’s play was first performed in 414BC, so you would think it would be out of copyright, some recent translations do have copyright over them. This meant I had to be careful which version to select as the basis for the book. My aim was to rewrite all the dialogue, but adaptations are always tricky – some phrase might slip through by accident. For this reason I chose the Project Gutenberg version as my starting point, checking the copyright restrictions carefully.

I followed the structure of the original, which is dialogue interspersed with songs. The original play is full of witty in-jokes, but many don’t work if the audience isn’t from ancient Athens. So I searched for new ways of playing old jokes. For example, I brought in plays-on-words related to 20th century pop culture, such as referencing the Beatles. Andrew and I also worked out how to update the characters so they were more recognisable to a current audience. One of the characters had a bit of a Trumpian makeover. I used linguistic elements such as repetition and non-sequiturs to create a speech for them that would feel familiar to anyone following US news.

Writing for Schools

I have an extensive background in theatre, so I’m very aware of the gender imbalance that usually exists. For most productions you can guarantee there’ll be a lot more females wanting to be involved. At the same time the majority of plays and, to a lesser extent, musicals, are written with more male roles. I really wanted to address this, especially as we aimed for The Birds to be suitable for all schools, whether co-educational or single sex. Andrew and I agreed that the best way to approach this was to write as many roles as possible gender neutral.

Since many of the characters in the play are birds, this was actually very easy to achieve. Even the two leads, both male humans in the original, could be played by anyone, regardless of gender.

Andrew also wanted the musical to offer a different kind of challenge to students than traditional Broadway shows do. Whilst he kept the orchestration simple as schools don’t often have access to a lot of instruments and performers, he didn’t shy away from complexity in the music. The Birds draws on both ancient and modern musical forms, including Arabic modes, jazz, Greek and Latin American danceforms and church music.

Words and Music

When it came to writing lyrics for the songs, Andrew went through the synopsis and the play, pulling out keywords that he thought encapsulated the message or meaning of each song. He also identified the sort of music he wanted for that song. These varied greatly, from liturgical chants to a tango. At times he would provide me with a song in the style he wanted to write so I had music in my head to help me capture the write rhythms and style.

Writing the lyrics was a real challenge. Each song had to have its own clear scan, an internal rhythm that would work musically. But it also needed to explore the key themes we wanted to bring out, and capture the wittiness of the original play. It was an amazing process though – I would send what was essentially a poem to Andrew, and it would come back to me with a full musical background, as a song. Most of the time the process worked really well. The liturgical chant required a number of revisions as I had different music playing in my head than Andrew did in his. But the Latin American songs practically wrote themselves and were a lot of fun.

Setting The Birds Free

To paraphrase John Lennon, a musical is what happens while you’re busy doing other things. Much of The Birds was written around the edges of a severe attack of real life due to a major health issue for a family member. It was almost an accidental surprise to discover we had a full musical at the end of the process. But retreating into the witty, fantastical world of Aristophanes was not only a great adventure, it also let me play with words and music, which is always therapeutic. And now, in a few months, I will get to see it come to life.

*or, why my writing is going to the birds….

MORE ABOUT WHO IS INVOLVED:

Andrew Perkins, composer, has written many works, including symphonies, choral works and solo pieces. You can find out about him on Wikipedia or on his personal website.

Bach Musica is an Auckland-based choir and professional orchestra who perform four concerts a year.

Swedish death clearing and other adventures

Swedish death clearing and other adventures

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Marie Kondo is so hot right now. Everyone has an opinion on her approach to clearing out stuff. I’ve been following the Minimalist and Decluttering movements for a number of years now. And I think a lot of the time there’s a big ‘can’t see the forest for the trees’ scenario going on. It’s the difference between focusing on the what (getting rid of excess stuff) and the why (making life simpler). I think at this point in time many, many people are overwhelmed – but not just by their physical stuff. There’s an awful lot of mental clutter created by our constant exposure to social media, the expectation that we fill out endless quality surveys, the millions of passwords we need to have, the endless mailing lists we have to sign up to if we want access to anything… Life has become really complicated. It can become incredibly easy to lose sight of what’s important.

Clearing out: a growing impulse

I’m not sure if it’s because of the recent spate of books, or programs like Marie Kondo’s, but decluttering has hit the mainstream. My family and I spent the beginning of the year with relatives who are doing Swedish death clearing. This involves clearing out your home before you die so your family don’t have to do it afterwards. I cleaned out my hoarding relative’s home years ago – a process that took three months, two giant skips and a fortune in cleaning products. So I’m all for the Swedish approach. It requires good communication though, because the relative doing the clearing may want to pass things on. If you’ve cleared out your house it can require some negotiation to avoid bringing home a raft of new things.

Back to the forest

See how easy it is to get focused on trees? I mean stuff? What I really wanted to write about in this post was what I consider the most important thing – the ‘why’ of clearing. You see, I think it works best if the process is about discovering what you want in your life, not just removing what you don’t want. If you touchstone for making decisions about what to keep is ‘is this important to me?’ then it becomes a much easier process. And as a writer the steady hum at the back of my life has always been the need to try to clear space for writing.

In the last twelve months that hum has become louder. I’ve developed a tremor in my hands which makes fine motor control more difficult. I’m not sure how related it is, but my energy levels have been very depleted. What this brings into focus is the need to clear out things that aren’t important or relevant to my life any more, but take up time and energy, to make space for the things that matter. (What I’ve really done here is sneak in a ‘new year’ post. Because what I’m talking about is my focus for 2019.) And not everything that takes up time and energy is physical.

Procrastination

I recently joked that doing my PhD I developed outstanding skills in procrastination. Any excuse not to do research and write the thesis. So one of the things I have to clear out this year is procrastination. Not an easy task. But I discovered when my kids were little

Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash.

that realising your time is limited is a great incentive not to procrastinate. So now, discovering that there are days when my energy levels are non-existent means that on the days when I have energy, I grab it and use it. It doesn’t always stop me procrastinating, if what I have to do is something I really don’t enjoy, but a lot of times it does. The other thing I do to beat procrastination is to focus on the stories that are waiting to be written. This may sound crazy, but sometimes I wake in a cold sweat thinking about all the stories I may never get to write. But during the day, thinking of those stories can turn my panic into proactive action.

Keeping focused

Of course, procrastination isn’t the only problem. But it’s a start. As I said, life is always complicated. This year I’ll be working two jobs, parenting a family, trying to write and market my books and trying to work out how to deal with my health issues if I want to function at all. The end of the year is always a great time to take stock and think about the year ahead, before you end up mired in everything again. But the chaos quickly creeps up. That’s why I think having a really clear ‘why’ of clearing out is important. For me that ‘why’ is finding time to write. So I’ll be giving more thought to what else to declutter apart from procrastination. Hopefully if I’m successful the stories will stop waking me up in the night wanting to be told. Wish me luck!

 

 

 

 
Why write?

Why write?

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Recently I have had very little time to write. To earn income I work as an academic editor. I’ve just edited several PhDs and an academic book in quick succession. Since finishing the first draft of Pierrot’s Song I haven’t done a single paragraph of creative writing. I haven’t had time in the midst of earning an income. It’s made me question why I am even writing, when I have to spend a large part of my time not writing in order to eat.

I’m 100% sure I’m not the only writer with this dilemma.  No doubt it occurred in all eras of history. Back in the old days I bet poor old Ugggh wanted to compose a tone poem, but the wooly mammoth were in season.  Dreamy young Riccardo wanted to carve marble like his hero, Leonardo, but there were shoes to stitch or he wouldn’t eat.

Writers don’t make money

Artists rarely make a living wage from their art. If you look at the figures, it’s a fairly depressing picture. The average Australian yearly wage 2 years ago was $84,032. The average yearly earnings for an Australian author from their books is $12,900.  And given that’s the average, it includes all the top-selling authors, whose books are the default purchases for many readers. That means there are many, many authors earning far less than that figure. So why write?

Excuse the economics for a minute…

In the last two to three decades we have been moving more and more to a neoliberal world-view. There are a couple of ideas that are central to this:

  1. The importance of product is valued over the importance of process. So, for example, in our neoliberal society taking the time to explore ideas and learn how to think is no longer the focus of education. Instead, for students what matters is the certificate that will open doors to employment, and for universities it is being seen to produce graduates who will become good employees. Rather than preparing young people to be good citizens, it is preparing them to be part of the labour market.
  2. Things only have value if they can be quantified and sold. That is, everything is a product. And the more income they can make, the higher their value. So people who work with money, and make ever more money, are valued highly and given a high income. People who work with intangibles, such as those in the caring profession and in the arts, are not valued. (And yes, I know there are other dimensions to this, such as gender and historical context, but this is a blog post, not an essay, okay? I don’t have the space to go into all the other issues.)

Authors and other artists rank pretty low on both these factors. They have a very specific skill set, which includes being thoughtful observers and even critics of society. Not great for employability. And they don’t earn a lot of money. So unless they receive the golden tick of approval from those with money who decide what art is worthy of reward, and what art is not, they don’t hold much value in a neoliberal world.

So why write?

When your why becomes your survival strategy

I mean, it actually doesn’t make sense to be an author in a neoliberal society. You’re unlikely to make a living wage, and you’re not highly valued.  I’ve been asking myself this question a lot in the last year to be honest. Writing is hard work. It takes many, many hours to craft a book. It takes a lot of rejection and heartache to find a home for your novel. There are negative reviews, months when you look at your sales figures and want to weep, and the sense that you are a tiny voice amongst a swell of loud voices, failing magnificently at being noticed.

Yet every time I ask myself whether I should keep writing, a tiny voice inside me still answers ‘yes’. Some of the reason for that I’ve written about before. Making art is food for the creative soul. Sharing art is sending a message in a bottle to the world*. You may never know who will find it, or how it will change their life. Or you might. If you’re lucky.

But writing is also a subversive act. By spending all those hours on something creative, something that may never earn you more than one or two cents per hour (or less) you are standing against the voice of neoliberalism. You are saying you have worth regardless of income. (Personally, I think artists and carers give a lot more to society than bankers do.)

And by writing for the joy of crafting a book, rather than in hopes of being the next JK Rowling and being able to buy a palace somewhere, you are placing value on process, rather than on product. You are saying being creative matters, no matter what the outcome might be.

But most importantly, if, like me, you hate the philosophy behind neoliberalism, because you don’t want to be simply a product or a cog in the economy machine, the act of writing can be a survival strategy. Taking time to be an artisan, without thought for the outcome, immerses you in a different world, for a time. It can be a healing antidote to the harsh realities of the world. And that can give you the strength to keep going. The creative process has a magic all of its own.

That’s why.

* Recently I read Neil Gaiman’s new book, ‘Art matters’. He uses the same metaphor in that. Just to be clear – I wrote my post BEFORE I read the book.

A journey into history with Wendy J. Dunn

A journey into history with Wendy J. Dunn

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A very special blog post today as I interview historical fiction writer, dear friend and mentor-extraordinaire, Wendy Dunn. Wendy has been obsessed by Anne Boleyn and Tudor History since she was ten-years-old. She is the author of three Tudor novels: Dear Heart, How Like You This?, the winner of the 2003 Glyph Fiction Award and 2004 runner up in the Eric Hoffer Award for Commercial Fiction; The Light in the Labyrinth, her first young adult novel, and Falling Pomegranate Seeds, the first book in a series about Catalina (Catherine) of Aragon. To read more about Wendy and her books, click here to visit her website.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

I fell in love with C.S. Lewis’s Narnia series when I was a child of ten. I was one of those children who lived in hope of finding a wardrobe that would take me into a world with fauns, talking animals, centaurs, flying horses, wicked witches, giants – a world where tree spirits danced on moonlit nights. These books showed me how we can escape and experience other worlds through the power of good storytelling.

Rosemary Sutcliff started my passion for historical fiction. Her world building is superb and powerfully take you back in time. But more important than that – her stories speak eloquently about what is to be human and leave the reader with a sense of hope. In dark, despairing moments, when I need comfort, her books are still high amongst my ‘go to’ books.

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

Stories are part of our DNA, our human experience. Stories teach us that we are not alone. Stories give us a universal language– and have the power of taking us from the chaos of life to a life where we can find meaning. Stories also open the door to the experiences of others and build those important bridges where we can meet one another, learn from one another and return with a deeper sense of empathy.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

I persevere. By not giving up in this long writing journey of mine, I have discovered, as a writer, the truth of the saying, ‘Perseverance Furthers’.

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

Demeter. From childhood, I have always found something to mother, and I know the power of a mother’s love; my four adult children are the core of my existence. The Demeter’s myth speaks powerfully of a mother’s love and the grief of losing a child, and how a mother would do anything for the return of their child, so that child is safe in their arms again.

When I was writing The Light in the Labyrinth, this myth was very much on my mind. I saw Kate Carey, my main character, as being Persephone, who becomes entrapped in the Hades of the Tudor court. But it was her time there which led her back to her mother as a wiser and empathetic young woman.

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

Letting go, breaking the circle of the past, the sorrow of unrequited love, the power of forgiveness and the search for identity. Completing my PhD in 2014 also opened my eyes to the fact that my works can be explicated through Feminist Standpoint Theory.

The Light in the Labyrinth was my PhD artefact. Writing that work changed me. As a mother of three sons, I hesitated to call myself a feminist because I did not really understand what the feminist movement was all about. I now understand the feminist movement is all about women and men walking side by side as equals.

By the time I finished my young adult novel, I not only confronted again the societal space I occupy as a woman and the reality of how women’s power is something both given and taken away by patriarchy, but also the simple fact that we all need to be feminists. Our world will not be healed until that happens. This is the beating heart of why I write. I write from my experience as a woman about the experiences of women of the past in hope of empowering women today.

Wendy Dunn is a gifted writer whose work portrays the lives of well-loved historical characters through story telling that resonates with powerful emotions. To read more go to www.wendyjdunn.com.

Reflect or correct: What is the role of the author?

Reflect or correct: What is the role of the author?

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I’ve been reflecting recently on a book review that was critical. The reviewer argued that I was irresponsible for the way I’d handled a particular scene. This made me think about the role of the author in writing difficult things. Should they reflect the world as it is, with its ugliness and chaos and lack of resolution? Or should they correct the problems of the world, perfecting them? The answer, of course, is complex, and depends very much on all sorts of factors, including genre. I could write a whole paper on this, but in the interests of keeping things short, I’ll address a few key points.

The power to change the world

I think the reason a lot of writers write is so they can change the world. They want to correct the problems they see around them. These might be personal experiences that they wish had happened differently, or broad social issues they want to address. A good area for authors to ‘correct’ is in diversity. For too long books have not reflected the real world, in terms of race, disability, gender and other differences. Authors can use their power to ensure it is not only middle class white people (generally men) in stories who have autonomy. They can create characters of all kinds, without stereotypes. Even in a genre like fantasy, places and people can be written as complex and nuanced, like the real world. To correct in this way is definitely worthwhile and important.

When it comes to events within a story though, there are some risks in over-correcting. Stories aren’t true. But they need to seem true. So the world in your book needs to seem convincing. It needs to reflect the real world to some extent. Even if it’s fantasy. Bad things do happen to good people and sometimes those people, or the people around them, don’t respond in the best ways. Writing a good character means giving them complexity. Writing a good plot means you don’t solve a problem straight away. If your villain immediately faces consequences for his actions, he’s not a very good villain. If you pose a problem, and immediately resolve it, there’s no tension in your story. If your character is always strong and demands justice, they’re not a real person, they’re a superhero.

Politics or story telling?

Why do people pick up a novel? Kafka says “a book should be an axe for the frozen sea within us”. He was talking about writing books to awaken emotional responses, not to enlighten us politically. In novels, readers connect with characters, not political ideas. As a writer my aim is to write scenes that will make readers feel something, not scenes that will politicise them. Books are great for creating empathy. But to create an emotional response you need to connect with the reader. This won’t happen if your scenes aren’t realistic. The scene in my book is true to life, and true to the characters involved. If I were to write it differently in order to responsibly reflect how this sort of thing should play out, I wouldn’t be writing a novel, I’d be writing a training manual. 

Trust the author

My final point is that it is important to trust the author. Writing a novel is about selection. As a writer you decide what to include and what to leave out. And what is included is there for a reason, if you know what you are doing. The reader doesn’t always have the full picture until the end. This is particularly true of a trilogy. Not everything will be resolved, or even revealed, in the first book. And even more true of a mystery.  A mystery has hints and clues that may look irrelevant, but may be very important later on. Look at the way JK Rowling revealed Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem in one of the early Harry Potter books. It seemed like an aside, a meaningless incident, but it wasn’t. Sometimes if you wait, you learn not everything is as it seems…

 

 
The Introvert Paradox

The Introvert Paradox

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When I was a child, I worked out pretty early on that I didn’t relate to the world the way the majority of people did. I didn’t like crowds, or too much noise. While I wanted party invitations so I wouldn’t feel excluded, I didn’t want to actually go. My happy place was at home, reading a book, in the quiet. Big group get-togethers were a nightmare – I much preferred one-on-one conversations. And I wasn’t good at chit chat. I wanted my conversations to be meaningful and authentic. People didn’t seem to want to have discussions at the deep level I wanted. They didn’t seem to notice or think about the same things I did. I felt things ‘too deeply’, strongly affected by what happened to myself and others. People often labelled me shy, but in reality I was highly introverted.

Perhaps if I’d had parents who recognised my fundamental nature and didn’t try to force me to be different, I would have been able to accept who I was. But at home and in the outside world I was constantly told I was ‘too serious’ and ‘too sensitive’. I was often forced into situations that I found deeply uncomfortable. I quickly learned there was something fundamentally wrong with me.

When I went to university I studied social work. I learned I was a very empathic listener, but I hated the role plays that were a big part of my training. Once I started work my sensitivity was valuable in working with people who were at a crisis or low point in their lives. But I would end my workdays completely exhausted, overwhelmed by other people’s emotions. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay in the profession long term as the emotional cost was too high.

The book that made a difference

In 2013 I came across a newly published book, Quiet, by Susan Cain. This book was a revelation for me. It grabbed me from the first blurb, when I read:

‘Sensitivity and seriousness are often seen as undesirable. Introverts feel reproached for being the way they are.’

That was me.

Cain’s book outlines how the brain chemistry of an introvert is different to that of an extrovert. Research shows that sensitivity, the tendency to notice more and to feel and think deeply are all hardwired into the introvert brain (p. 103). Yet society does not reward or even cater to introverts. They often feel like fish out of water. Cain made me realise there is nothing ‘wrong’ with having an introvert brain. (If you want to know more, start with her TED talk – follow the link.)

From the age of eight I wanted to be a writer, and the more I understood my nature, the more I thought this was a job that would suit me. (Which is not to say I chose it for that reason – it chose me really, because I always had stories running around inside my head, and I HAD to let them out, but it helps to find work that suits your personality.) Alongside my sensitivity, I was highly imaginative, and could easily work on my own for long periods of time. At school I was always daydreaming, creating places and characters and stories.

I achieved my dream of being a published author in June 2017. And almost immediately descended into a pit of despair. Because somehow being an author now seems to require a high degree of extroversion.

Extroversion Required

I don’t have a problem with giving talks or being on panels. I have a background in improvised theatre, and as someone who thinks deeply about all sorts of things I have a lot of ideas I can talk about. So I actually love that side of being ‘an author’. What I have a problem with is the regular social media socialising and the requirement to be a marketing person.

Authors are constantly told now that they must have a strong social media presence in order to sell their books. They need to join and actively engage in numerous groups and platforms. The risk is, if you do this just to sell books, you’re not being authentic and you are using the people around you.  Social media can allow for authentic and meaningful engagement. I wouldn’t want to do it otherwise. But that takes time. I run my own editing business and parent two teenagers whilst being an author, so time is in short supply. The more time I spend on social media, the less I have to write or be with my family. And as an introvert, I recharge my batteries through time alone. So social media is a constant weight on my shoulders.

As for marketing, this requires an extrovert approach. You need to be willing to draw attention to yourself and talk up your author ‘brand’ and your books. This might be in person, such as at a market stall, on social media, or through writing copy. And I really, really struggle with this, for a range of reasons, but fundamentally because it’s like asking a fish to climb a tree – it goes against my introvert nature to the point where I feel sick and anxious. I am often torn between the expectation that I do ‘marketing’, and my overwhelming need to run screaming in the other direction. I could do a whole other blog post about the damage that is done to introverts by expecting them to behave like extroverts but I’m already over my word count so I’ll come back to that.

So where is the paradox?

Well, the thing is, I think my introvert nature is an asset to my actual writing. My hypersensitivity – my tendency to notice things others don’t and to think and feel deeply about them – all help me paint my stories with vivid colours. I think these personal characteristics make me a better writer.* But in the last year I’ve spent a lot of time sobbing quietly to myself at the realisation that either I have to actively undertake marketing, the mere thought of which escalates my anxiety to ridiculous levels, or come to terms with the fact that my stories won’t be noticed in a book market that is crowded with authors going ‘look at me!’.

I definitely haven’t found any answers to the paradox. All I know is that some days I can live with the tension between who I am as an author and who I’m supposed to be, and other days I can’t. But if you’re an introvert author, please know you’re not alone. Maybe we can have a deep and meaningful chat in a quiet corner at a writers festival some day soon.

 

* I am not comparing myself to anyone else here. Just to myself. I am not in any way putting down extroverts or saying I’m in any way better. And there you have a classic example of the introvert tendency to worry about every single thought that comes out of my brain, and whether I’ve upset anyone and… argh!!! Overthinking is definitely an introvert thing.

Building a gypsy wagon: the things writers do…

Building a gypsy wagon: the things writers do…

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Why create a gypsy wagon? Well, the biggest problem I’ve had with promoting Harlequin’s Riddle is that a lot of people don’t know about the Commedia dell’Arte, the travelling players of the Italian Renaissance. So when I say that’s what my book is about I get blank looks. BUT I’ve worked out that everybody knows what a gypsy wagon is. In fact, a quick search of Pinterest reveals heaps of images of gypsy wagons. A lot of people seem to have the same dream as me, which is basically to run away, go on the open road, get away from responsibilities etc.. No housework! The Tiny House movement seems to be the modern incarnation of this gypsy dream.

So to get over the Commedia problem, I figured using a gypsy wagon as a prop might be a good approach. Instead of ‘Commedia’ I can say ‘actors who travel around in gypsy wagons’. Over the next few months I’ll be having stalls at several conventions and writers festivals. My hope is that having a gypsy wagon on the table will open the door to conversations about the travellers in Harlequin’s Riddle.

Building it has been a lot of fun. I ordered the design from an online company in the US. This meant I could download it and get it printed in Australia. Since postage is crazy from the US, this was a great way to save on costs. The company we used was incredibly quick (thank goodness!). Then began the process of putting it together.

  1. The first stage was working out what each piece was, and how they fit together. I also had to work out what had to be done in what order, and devise a colour scheme. Pinterest was great for inspiration. Gypsy wagons are so colourful! I chose traditional colours for the outside. For the inside I let my internal fantasy author free, choosing my favourite colours of purple and aqua.
  2. I painted the gold scrollwork first. The design for this was etched on the wood, so if I painted a basecoat first I would cover it up. Doing it the other way round meant I had to fill in the wall colour around the gold with a very fine brush. Luckily, doing things in this order worked.
  3. Once I’d painted all the walls, I painted the trim. This included the window frames and other decorative features. Gypsy wagons use a lot of decoration. Each major wall had a little flower set into it with holes punched out. I used a clear lacquer called Crystal Effects to fill these holes, then painted over it with iridescent and gold nailpolish for a stained-glass effect. I tried doing the nailpolish on its own first, and it just fell through so I had to modify my technique!
  4. Once the painting was complete, I used scrapbooking papers to add more scrollwork around the windows and doors. I also added a decorative cornice on the two long internal walls with scrapbooking borders. To satisfy my own gypsy soul I created a feature wall using beautiful Florentine paper decorated with birds and butterflies. I also added a picture frame. This was my favourite part of the process.
  5. Now it was time to put it all together. The bench and table were first, then the external walls. The roof is detachable.
  6. A few final touches were needed. My husband is a tabletop gamer, so he knows some great techniques for model building. He used babywipes dipped in glue (mixed with colours) to create the blue tablecloth and yellow curtains. When they set they look like fabric. He created tiny rails to hang the curtains off. I created a pennant and hung it off the outside. I have played around with resin before, so I had a bottle and a cake that I placed on the table. (Here’s food I prepared earlier!) Using more papercraft supplies, I created a vase of flowers for another dash of colour. The last touch was a scroll. Although the travelling players in my book don’t use scripts, they might have scenarios written down, or sketches for costumes.

It may seem like overkill to build a whole gypsy wagon to promote my book. Most authors just print bookmarks or business cards. But as a very introverted introvert who has a deep horror of marketing, having something I can talk about when I’m out and about will be great. Plus I now have my own beautiful wagon to keep, although it’s not quite big enough to run away in. If you want see it in real life, check out my appearances page and come and say hi at one of the upcoming bookish events.

(By the way, one theory is that gypsies originally came from India. Aspects of gypsy culture may reflect Hindi beliefs and practices. And, having been to India three times, I can definitely say the way trucks and buses are decorated even today is reminiscent of gypsy wagons.)
An Interview with Laura E. Goodin

An Interview with Laura E. Goodin

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Author, humorist and bellringer, Laura E. Goodin

Today on my blog I have an interview with writer, academic and bellringer Laura E. Goodin. Laura’s exciting adventure fantasies, Mud and Glass and After the Bloodwood Staff, are published by Odyssey Books. Laura’s madcap take on academia, Mud and Glass, has been compared to the writing of Jasper Fforde, and with good reason. As an escapee from the Academy myself, I laughed out loud many times at the hilarity and madcap craziness. But as you will see from Laura’s answers below, her unique, humorous take on the world is only one of her many talents – her answers are deeply moving and insightful.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

I learned to read unusually early, so I don’t really remember a particular revelatory moment in that regard.  My first reading obsession, though, was the Chronicles of Narnia.  From 50 years away I can see their flaws (racism, sexism, classism, theological approaches that create more problems than they solve), but at the time they were my gateway into a world where children were capable and strong, and magic and wonder were everywhere, and where I could imagine myself with the kind of daring and skills that I in no way had in real life.  I didn’t use the books for escape; quite the contrary:  I used them as a model for becoming someone better, more capable, more reliable, more courageous in the real world.  Granted, I wasn’t the happiest little misfit in the world, and stories of all kinds did provide a refuge for me.  But they also showed this little misfit the possibilities of the human spirit.  I saw ways my idiosyncrasies could be strengths, and I became determined to make the most of the person I was and am, rather than trying to be someone who always knows the right thing to wear to a party.  (I never really know the right thing to wear to a party.  Or anywhere else, for that matter.  It’s just my best guess.  So if I show up at your house dressed in completely the wrong manner for the occasion, you’ll know it’s because instead of studiously acquiring the rules for attire, I’ve spent my time learning karate and bellringing and fencing, riding horses, cooking elaborate meals, and teaching cool stuff to my students.)

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

There are as many reasons for that as there are people.  Me, I need stories for inspiration and refuge, entertainment and education.  I need them because they urge me to fling myself at the world in a great big exuberant embrace, to grapple with it and comfort it and challenge it and heal it.  Stories show me truths and help me see what to strive for.  They strengthen my soul and increase my capacity for joy and compassion.  They help me see the miracles and wonders that await around every corner.  They make me more, they make me better, they make me my truest self.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

Hm.  Do you mean, “What am I best at as a writer?”  That might be dialogue.  Mine seems to be very easy for the reader to hear as natural speech and get immersed in.  I pay a lot of attention to the sounds and rhythms of the words themselves, and I’m a maniac for cutting extraneous words and syllables out; that could have something to do with it.  Do you mean, “How do I most effectively capture the attention – indeed, the awareness – of my readers?”  I like to think it’s a combination of quirky yet plausible characters, situations of mayhem with always the possibility of a belly laugh somewhere along the way, and SCRUPULOUS – I repeat, SCRUPULOUS – attention to spelling, grammar, and punctuation.  This last may be the most important, because well-punctuated, well-spelled words arranged in brilliantly clear ways let the reader relax:  they say, “You’re in the hands of an expert, precious reader.  You won’t have to stop to cringe at a rookie grammar error or scowl as you try to figure out how to resolve an ambiguity.  So breathe, begin, and instantly forget you’re reading.”  When readers can lose themselves into a story like that, that’s magic.  The magic of grammar, my friends.  It gives you power over your readers’ very minds.  But you must use your powers for good, never for evil.  Promise me!

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

I’m finding this incredibly hard to answer.  I think the character I most identify with is Cat Chant from Diana Wynne Jones’s Charmed Life.  Like Cat, I tend to be hesitant about inconveniencing others, and I spent the early part of my life profoundly unaware, for the most part, of my own powers.  Like Cat, I got the shock of my life when I started to realise just how powerful I am.  That’s one thing middle age is absolutely great for:  you begin to get a sense that you can handle what gets thrown at you, because at some point you’ve already handled some pretty horrible stuff.  You become aware of your powers.  There’s a reason older women have historically been objects of fear and persecution:  we are becoming aware of our powers, and, even more terrifying, we’re using them on purpose!  It doesn’t seem to matter that most of us use them to help and heal and drive positive change.  We’re masterless and wild, and we might inflict some serious damage.  Maybe that’s the archetype I now identify with:  wild, raving woman of wisdom and vision and might.  (But whenever I reread Charmed Life, I’m back to being Cat.)

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

I keep seeing two main ideas in my writing (and that includes not only my novels, but my plays, poetry, libretti, and short fiction).  First, the world is vastly more than we can see in our daily lives:  there are hidden meanings and miraculous coincidences and flashes of mystery and power that we sense but cannot often see.  Second, in such a world, how can we be anything other than heroic?  How can we turn our backs on our own beautiful, mighty selves to be just ordinary, when the world cries out to us?  My characters tend to find that whole new layers of meaning and challenge lie behind what they thought was reality, and that this means they’re going to have to be something more than they thought they could ever become.  The world is full of wardrobes.  (A friend in America had a wardrobe; they’re rare there, because most American houses have closets.  “Wow,” I said when I saw it.  “Does that lead to Narnia?”  She said, “I wish it did.  I could use the room.”)
Flow as a Doorway to Magic

Flow as a Doorway to Magic

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Harlequin’s Riddle is not your typical fantasy. There’s actually not a droplet of magic in it. Mina, the central character, doesn’t learn magic. There is no speaking of spells, hand waving or use of wands anywhere in any of the books.  There are some fantastic books out there that use this sort of overt magic. But I went in a different direction. What interests me is thinking about what magic already exists in the world. We forget how incredible life is, taking for granted all the wondrous things that happen every day. This is especially true for people. Their minds are complex, their lives are fascinating and their achievements can be staggering.

I’m particularly interested in creativity, and how that shapes people. Or, as becomes evident in my book, how people use their creative abilities to shape the world. Art, in whatever form, can change the way we think about things. It can take us out of the moment, transporting us so completely that we forget who we are. It can help us to empathise and connect with others, or heal long-held hurts.

About Flow

In my explorations in creativity over the years I’ve noticed a recurring theme, which is that when people do their creative practice, whatever that might be, they go into a different state, or mindset. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a psychology professor, calls this state ‘flow’. In this state creators become completely absorbed in whatever they are doing. The requirements of the real world (food, ego etc.) fall away in place of a sense of fulfilment. This state can be very productive. Csiszentmihalyi also says the “whole being is involved”.

Flow and Writing

Many writers have had the experience of working on a piece, and having some sort of inexplicable or unusual experience, such as a character ‘coming to life’ and taking control of the story. Or writing about a place they’ve never been to, only to discover when they get there or see photos of it that they’ve described things with an uncanny accuracy. This is what fascinates me about flow – what if it is an opportunity to tap into a different mental state that links you in some way to something bigger than yourself? This was an idea I wanted to play with in my book.

Flow in Tarya

In Harlequin’s Riddle I take this idea of flow as a starting point to the fantastical elements of the story. Rather than a doorway to a different mental state, creativity becomes a literal doorway – to a place called Tarya. It is a place that sits beside the real world. There are spiritual aspects to Tarya, but it is not just a separate realm, like heaven. Events that happen in Tarya can have an effect on the real world. Mina, the central character of the book, discovers she is able to reach Tarya when she tells stories. But more importantly, she is able to bring aspects of her stories into being for her audience.

Writers are endlessly fascinated by the writing process. Sometimes it can definitely feel like it is magic. Having a heroine who can do interesting things with her stories is so much fun as a writer. I’d like to think there’s a little bit of me in Mina – or a little bit of Mina in me. But she may have other ideas…

If you’d like to learn more about Mina’s abilities, sign up to my email list (see the bottom of the page) and I’ll send you a free short story that tells you Mina’s back story.

 

 
Are you the boss of social media or is it the boss of you?

Are you the boss of social media or is it the boss of you?

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Once upon a time, when a group of writers got together, they would talk about their WIPs (works in progress), or the difficulties with their publisher/not having a publisher, or how good the coffee was. Nowadays, apparently inevitably, the conversation always seems to end up on social media. What’s the best one? What gets the best sales? How do you manage having so many different ones? How often should you blog? And so on.

In the discussions I’ve had with various writers, many feel social media is necessary but a pain. Necessary, because we all want to be noticed in the sea of writers out there. A pain, because they’d rather be writing. As far as I can see, that means there are two challenges to social media:

  1. how to get noticed
  2. how not to give your life over to it

There are lots of posts and training courses out there offering advice on point 1, so I’m not going to answer those questions. Instead I’m going to look at:

How NOT to get stuck on the social media roundabout.

First of all – keep in mind the WHY, not just the HOW. Why are you on social media? It’s incredibly easy to get caught up in all those questions I mentioned, like finding the best platform, how often to post, trying to turn posts into sales etc. Yes, we need to be able to be found, but the reaso

n for that is because we want people to read our writing. If you keep this in mind, it will help you stay motivated to keep your writing as your number one priority, and to make social media a lower priority. Of course, if your aim is to be a social media personality, not a writer, then you can stop reading this post right now.

Next, take an honest look at time versus outcome.  How many sales do you actually get from spending hours on Twitter? How many of your followers are actually buying your books? Each platform has ways you can measure this, such as ‘click throughs’ and other analytics. Work out how to use these! It’s nice to get warm, fuzzy feelings from having lots of followers, but if this isn’t translating into genuine interest in your books then either you’re wasting your time, or you might need a different message. This may mean tweaking what you post, or it may actually mean focusing your energy elsewhere.

Also, find a time management tool that works for you. I use an ap called Writeometer to focus on my writing without distraction. It turns my phone into a timer for 25 minutes. If I try to exit to check social media it asks me sternly if I really need to break my writing time. There are other aps that will lock your access to social media for a set amount of time. Look, social media is addictive. It’s designed to be that way. Which is one of the reasons writers feel it is a pain – because they know it takes away from writing time but they can’t always help themselves. At the end of your life, do you want your Wikipedia entry to have 12 books on it, or 5? Is it worth sacrificing all those unwritten novels to flick through funny cat pictures? Seriously? So if you’re addicted to scrolling, don’t be ashamed to use electronic tools to help break the cycle!

Finally, and most importantly, write good books, or, as Neil Gaiman says, ‘make good art’. There is no magic formula for getting noticed – some of it is luck, some of it is perserverance, but some of it is being good at what you do. You may spend ten hours a week crafting a huge social media presence, but if your writing doesn’t sing, if your story doesn’t excite, you won’t sell books. Ok, I can think of a couple of exceptions to this (terribly written books that have sold very well) but bestselling authors are usually at the top because they are VERY good at what they do, which is write compelling books.

While you’re sitting on the social media roundabout, spinning endlessly, you could be improving your writing craft. You could be catching the fireflies of inspiration, listening to the whispers of stories waiting to be told, crafting characters that want to be in the world. Thanks for reading. Now go write!

 

Bio

Rachel Nightingale is a writer, playwright, educator and actor. With a passion for story telling and the theatre, it was only natural that her first fantasy series would centre on both. She lives in regional Australia with her family, a very bossy cat and the cutest dog in the world. She is represented by Creative Net speakers.

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