Daft draft poem

Knocked off the draft.

It begged to die,

bludgeoned with a blunt instrument

at the hands of a serial offender

looking for ways

to dismember its body,

decompose,

pick over its bones.




(This is why I write novels, not poetry)

The aha moment cometh...

...and it arrived over a large flat white and a rhubarb friand this morning at one of my favourite Dunedin cafes, the aptly named Rhubarb.

I've been getting rather anxious, waiting for the aha's arrival. I've been hammering away at Containment for quite some time now, but something was lacking. My deadline was getting scarily close and I have to admit to a mild to moderate amount of panic happening. But I wasn't completely freaked out because when I was writing Overkill, the aha moment didn't come until the 6th draft. Yes folks, one of the acts of faith of a writer, I kept on working even though it didn't all quite tie in, then heaved a sigh of relief when I discovered the tiny shred of information that made it all slot into place and everything make perfect sense.

So my freakoutometer has slidden below critical, and I feel I have the connections that will make it all gel together. Writing is often about dogged determintaion, and Containment has been an example of that. There have been times when I'd wanted to toss the whole bloddy thing away and start again, but then I thought, no, the bits of the skeleton I had were good, but I guess it was like one of those archaeological digs where you're not quite sure what you've got till all the bones turn up.

The bones turned up with a Rhubarb Friand and a damn fine coffee.

Between the covers

Today was one of those run around like a mad ass kind of days, that also included a stint on Channel 9 television's Dunedin Diary programme doing my regular book review slot.

This month I reviewed a couple of non-fiction books, and these are my notes for what I intended to say. Naturally, it isn't what actually came out of my mouth, because those little things like nerves, feeble memory and Dougal's questions and comments make me deviate from the master plan.


Growing Organic by Nick Hamilton and Philippa Jamieson.

Growing Organic is a British book by Nick Hamilton that Philippa Jamieson has edited and adapted for the New Zealand situation. Philippa’s the editor of New Zealand Organic magazine.

I would call this a beginners guide to organic gardening, and gardening in general as it covers topics from which tools to select and how to get started from growing seed to taking cuttings to watering techniques. It covers the inevitable bugs, and has suggested organic sprays, although I would have liked a few more homemade spray recipes as we have an impressive aphid invasion happening. It doesn’t have photos but has good diagrams that are helpful.

It also has a helpful section on storing your vegetables once they’re harvested. What to do with that bumper crop that’s coming out your ears rather than just give it away to the neighbours. And of course composting and what to do with the leftovers.

I’d recommend this as a good basic book for people wanting to get started on the pleasures of growing your own food.



Dunedin Tracks and Trails by Antony Hamel


This has got to be one of the handiest books published. For a family like mine where we like to get out for the odd walk, and have a mountain biker always looking for places to ride, it’s brilliant.

The books nicely divided into geographical areas and as well as showing the tracks and clear directions how to get to them, it has lots of fascinating information about the area’s history and what to look out for.

Each section also has a summary of the walks, approximate time, distance and how hilly as well as a rating. I particularly liked the Features list, and the North Dunedin one of pondering why our future leaders and intellectuals seem happy to live in such messy flats as students.

It gives all the vital information, like when tracks are closed for lambing and when they’re crossing private land and you need to be aware of cattle.

I’d say that this is a book that every Dunedin home needs to have, and our family will certainly be popping out with it over the summer to enjoy some fresh air and the local scenery.

The Broken Shore

by Peter Temple.

This is so much more than a crime novel. The Broken Shore has won a slew of awards, including the CWA Duncan Lawrie Dagger, and so it should.

Peter Temple is a master at creating characters with depth and appeal, and who ring true in all their tics and flaws. Even the minor players and cameos are exquisitely drawn with often a few scant words. I think his skill with dialogue is what makes his people real, in what they say, and what they don't say. He allows his male characters a complex emotional life, which makes Cashin an unforgettable man. This all with in the setting of a novel that rips along at great pace and compels you, no forces you to read on.

Joe Cashin is a Port Monro detective, recuperating from major injuries sustained in the course of duty. When an elderly pillar of society is brutally murdered in his home, Cashin in brought into investigate with the local Cromarty police. They follow leads from a watch missing from the victim, but when an operation to bring in potential suspects goes horribly wrong a torrent of racial tensions and discontent boils over.

Peter Temple is a South African living in Australia, and it is clear that he has observed and absorbed the attitudes, positive and negative towards the aboriginal people. In The Broken Shore he captures the inter-racial tension, inter-family posturing, political maneuvering, small mindedness, and small town mentalities. He pokes at the seedy underbelly of society and makes it twitch. He also captures the harshness of the Australian landscape and and how that in turn can create earthy, hard people.

This is a stunning book, and one that I will re-read - and I very rarely re-read fiction books.

Antiblahotics

You go through patches as a writer where self-doubt clouds your conviction. I've been battling one of those patches, but like all things in life, if you want to make forward progress you suck it in and keep on working. This approach has worked to some extent, but still, why-do-I-bother-itis has been plaguing me.

One of the symptoms has been a steadfast ignoring of the envelope of Media Watch review clippings that Penguin so kindly provide to its authors. I didn't think my fragile state of being could cope with a bad one, so the envelope was conveniently buried in one of those piles of papers and junk that occasionally avalanche out of bookshelves or topple over and crush small children.

This morning I got brave and went digging for it. The cause of this sudden rush of nerve? Kerrie over at Mysteries in Paradise has posted a fabulous review of Overkill, including useful things like where you can find the book in Aussie and the UK. So thank you Kerrie, you've made my day!

That spurred me on and I discovered when I opened my bundle that all of the reviews were good, and I'd had quite a few mentions in people's "What I'm reading" piles.

New Zealand Lawyer magazine also featured a review of The Ringmaster, which was very positive. They did a piece titled Serial Killers stalk the South Island, and reviewed my book and Paul Cleave's Cemetery Lake. Great to see Paul and I are keeping the law fraternity happily amused.

So that's a brighter start to my day. That and not having any sick kiddies at home for the first time in two weeks. It's just me and the snoring cat.

Better go, got an appointment with Detective Sam Shephard.

Invisible Evidence

I was almost crushed under an avalanche of stuff from the bookcase that sits next to my desk. It contains my most frequently used reference material as well as all those things that need to be shoved somewhere, anywhere so I can find a big enough area on the desk to fit the keyboard.

Every now and again the bookcase has a kind of allergic reaction and effectively sneezes to clear the blockage.

One of the books sneezed out was this little gem from Bill O'Brien - Invisible Evidence: Forensics in New Zealand. Bill's an ex-coppa turned writer so knows what he's talking and writing about.

Invisible Evidence is very handy and covers the up to date technology and methods used in forensic science here. With everything from crime-scene examination, to pathology, to document examination and the latest isotopic analysis.

So if you're looking for a handy little forensics reference book, or even one of those cool little books to give for Christmas to someone difficult to buy for (ie. a bloke) - mystery solved.

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

The New Zealand Book Council have invited me to be the fiction writer on next year's Words on Wheels bus tour. I'll get to spend six days on the road visiting every town and village on the road between Christchurch and Queenstown between the 2nd and 8th of March.

And who are the poor unfortunates that get to put up with me for so long?

My fellow road tripees are Anna Mackenzie (Teen Fiction), David Geary (Scriptwriting), Janet Charman (Poetry) and Steve Braunias (Non-fiction).

We'll get to visit libraries, schools and town halls, and hopefully the odd restaurant and pub too.

But sending a crime writer on a road trip, is it such a good idea? It conjures up images of a closed room kind of a murder mystery on wheels. The publicist is dead. Who dunnit?

Was it the crime writer? Everyone assumes someone who spends all day imagining how to kill people would be the fiend. But what about the poet? Can you trust a poet? Or that guy who writes about birds? Those teen fiction writers can get up to no good, and don't get me started on script writers.

Hmmmm, could be fun.

Heh, heh, heh.

Good golly, Molly

I know I've had the conversation before about falling in love with inanimate objects, but I can't help it. I love my new computer, Molly rocks. There are so many cool things you can do.

Molly has a built in camera, so we've discovered the Photo Booth function. It's great fun. The kids, especially have had a blast taking photos of themselves doing what kids do best - scary faces, poking out tongues, bunny ears behind each other's heads - you get the picture.

You can also do effects, and I really, and I mean really like the colour pencil effect, because you can take a picture of you, and it's like photoshop overkill - no more wrinkles, and I'm sure it makes you look younger. Oops, I mean, of course I'm young anyway, honest.

Naturally I'm making the most of the functions that relate to what I actually do - write, and the fact that I no longer have to squint at the tiny screen on my laptop has improved workplace conditions immensely. It makes realise how tiring it was peering away at the old one, and although I had the lap-top propped up on a pile of Hubby's business text-books, and had a full size keyboard plugged into it, Molly has improved my posture immensely. The OSH boffins would be very happy.

I love having the ability to display side by side documents, or a document and internet side by side. It is rather handy. Am I gushing? Sorry, the first flush of love, and all.

Then there's the widgets. Sigh. Can a girl ever have too many downloads?

A voice from the past

I've just enjoyed listening to the podcast of Sounds Historical where Jim Hopkins played a recording of an old interview with Ngaio Marsh, complete with old-time static. I find it amazing to listen to sound recordings of writers since passed, it gives a dose of the spine tingles. I experienced this with the recording of Janet Frame emanating from the radiogram at Janet Frame's house at Eden St in Oamaru, and experienced it here listening to Ngaio Marsh's resonant voice.

Ngaio talks about why she got started with crime fiction, and about plot, amongst other things. It's a fascinating and slightly eerie glimpse into her motivations and her past.

After the Ngaio Marsh interview Jim talks with Joanne Drayton, author of the recently released biography Ngaio Marsh: Her life in crime. It's a lovely combination hearing Ngaio, and then her biographer. It's also interesting to hear how well the mystery writer worked so hard to keep her personal life a mystery.

Click the link here to go straight to the podcast, or here to go to the Sounds Historical webpage and internet links. The interviews are in the second hour of the Sunday the 16th of November show, and doesn't start until part way through the hour. I'd embed them into the blog if I could, but my technical adviser is out, and I haven't figured it out myself yet. (Anyway, why figure it out when Hubby can do it for you - it makes him feel needed.)

So thanks to Hugh and Nicky for the heads-up on this - My friends seem to realise I'm a teensy bit interested in my fellow New Zealand crime writer.

And speaking of Ngaio Marsh, Kerrie over at Mysteries in Paradise has posted this review of A Man Lay Dead, and David Cranmer at The Education of a Pulp Writer has posted this review of Death in Ecstasy - which is the next book on my Ngaio Marsh Challenge list.

I tell you, Ngaio is all the rage!

On Top of Everything

By Sarah-Kate Lynch.

I thoroughly enjoyed Sarah-Kate's Dunedin launch of this book the other night, and the opportunity for pink fizz and cupcakes.

Naturally I brought a copy of her book, and being a sycophantic groupie type had to get it autographed - it would have been rude not to.

I got to devour the book over the weekend, and it made a very pleasant change from my steady diet of crime fiction.

This is the story of Florence, and Florence re-defines having a bad day. It starts with her getting fired from her own business by her best friend, and then her husband leaves her for another man. And that's just the beginning. Sometimes bad days spill over to bad weeks, months, especially if you believe trouble comes in threes, or multiples of threes.

If all this sounds maudlin, it's not because Sarah-Kate infuses this novel with wit and charm and characters to make you smile.

Naturally, it wouldn't be a Sarah-Kate Lynch book if there wasn't food involved, and in this instance it's cakes, cupcakes, little cucumber sandwiches, fruit cakes and tea, plenty of tea, leaf of course, served in fine bone china. Sarah-Kate is the queen of foodie chick-lit.

I did want to slap Florence, frequently. She annoyed me a lot, to the point of teeth gritting at times. But I guess that means I cared about her. And I do wish the story had been told entirely from Florence's point of view, but that's by the by - I really enjoyed this book.

On Top of Everything was a perfect to while away a few hours over a weekend, and gave me urges to haul out the fine bone china and have a frilly high tea for my friends. Actually, I have a feeling that will happen. I feel a bake-a-thon coming on.

Put it on your summer reading list.

The Science of Sherlock Holmes

I have just started reading, and am already captivated by this book by E.J.Wagner, which was lent to me by Prof Jules Keiser - my forensic anthropology man. For some strange reason he thought I'd be interested.

It is subtitled "From Baskerville Hall to the Valley of Fear, the Real Forensics Behind the Great Detective's Greatest Cases."

Excellent!

It looks at Sherlock Holmes methods of detection and his forensics in the light of Victorian medicine, law, pathology, toxicology and the emerging forensic science of the time. It also delves into some of the folklore that existed and gives real-life examples of mysteries from the era.

I can see this will be a valuable resource as well as an entertaining read. It won a 2007 Edgar award, so it must have struck a chord with many people.

I'm hooked.

It's a girl...

...and she's big and she's beautiful.

She's got a 20 inch widescreen back-lit LCD display, a cd/dvd drive that actually works. She'll talk directly to my camera without spitting the dummy, and talk to my scanner. She's got a decent girth to her so I can do side by side documents. She's got an amazing memory (as all kids do - just ask one to play the memory card game with you and you'll soon feel shamed) and will do exactly as I ask.

Although Mme iBook has seen me through three novels, if you count the one I'm completing, and Hubby through an MBA, I shall not mourn her retirement. Lets face it, she was getting a bit tired and crotchety, and from an entirely practical standpoint, it's not easy drumming out a novel on a laptop with a squinky-winky tiny screen coz these eyes ain't getting any younger. We'll trot the old girl out when we travel and for those times when portability is desirable (although, we'd need the power cord, because Mme Mac's only good for about 20 minutes now). And I'm sure the kids will try to lay claim to her, so she won't feel entirely left out.

But for now, I only have eyes for my new baby, Miss iMac...sigh...

I think I'll name her Molly.

Sticks and stones

Last night's fizz and cupcakes was delightful, but there was a wee spoiler on the way home.

Driving through Queens Drive and the Green belt I got a hell of a fright with an enormous bang and clatter on the car windscreen. Fortunately I had my Hanes self-cleaning underwear on, but unfortunately there was a ruddy great chip in my windscreen - my new windscreen that was replaced only three weeks ago. Grrrrr.

The cause of all this? Stone throwing little SHoneTs. They must have been hidden in the trees. As I had a kiddie in the car I didn't stop to investigate, but when I got home Hubby hopped on his bike and nipped down to check it out while I rang the police.

He found two teenagers up on the bank, still throwing stones at cars, and who proceeded to throw stones and swear at him too. Charming.

Anyway, the police didn't have any cars available to send out last night, but a lovely policewoman came to the house today to fill out an incident report.

So what's this all got to do with anything other than Vanda being in a rage at the idiotic antics of clueless teenagers and being down some dollars on the insurance excess?

I had a policewoman in my house, a young police woman. So although she wasn't short like my Sam Shephard, I did quiz her on a few things. She was most amused to being questioned by the complainant, and saw the irony of a crime writer making a complaint due to willful damage.

So I learned:

Those stab-proof vests they all have to wear are majorly uncomfortable.
After a few weeks they mould a bit to your body shape, but not much.
For the first two weeks it's hard to breathe in them.
They weigh about 6 kg for the little sizes, and the big blokes who need bigger sizes they weigh considerably more.
The police hate them.

All stuff I suspected anyway, but good to hear it from the horses mouth.

So although it was a pain in the bum circumstance, and I am still ropeable about thoughtless little *$%@%**s breaking my windscreen - you can always turn a negative into a positive.

Pink fizz and cupcakes

What a Wednesday it's been!

Today was Write On Radio show day and I enjoyed my chats with Paul Sorrell and Martha Morseth. I was entirely in charge of the radio station, and managed to get through that without any technical whoopsies, which was good considering if I did stuff up, there would have been deathly silence over the frequency until the station manager returned from lunch. Then again, I did like that sense of power...

My postal courier radar was in fine form and I raced out to the letterbox to find a parcel with my copies of the German edition of Overkill, Ein Harmloser Mord. They are very cool - I can't understand a word of them, but they're cool. Look damn fine in the bookshelf.

Then this evening I got to put on the glad rags and trot off to hear Sarah-Kate Lynch promoting her latest book, On top of everything.

At this point, I should make a confession. I had what one could call a blonde moment yesterday. I got the kids dinner early, got dolled up, and piled us all in the car to get down to Sarah-Kate's do at the University Book Shop at 5.45pm, only problem was that when we pulled up, the University Book Shop looked suspiciously closed, and I had to admit to myself and the kids that maybe I'd made a wee stuff up on the date. Hmmm.

So tonight I got the kids dinner early, got dolled up (deja vu, anyone?) and piled us into the car, and, thank heavens, when we got to the University Book Shop the lights were on, the pink bubbly poured and there was a beautiful array of dainty cupcakes sitting on the book stands. Phew. So I got to meet the glorious Sarah-Kate, did the sycophantic groupie thing and got my book autographed, got to enjoy a glass of fizz and a delicious cupcake (or two).

What more could a girl ask for?

Write On Radio

Tomorrow is Write On Radio day, with the show broadcast live on Toroa Radio 1575 kHz AM Radio at noon.

This, of course, means it's November already, which naturally leads into December, which naturally leads into an almighty panic. Could someone please explain what happened to this year?!

Here's the details of the lovely folk I'll be chatting with.



Paul Sorrell is a writer, editor and photographer who has edited several publications, including Murihiku - The Southland Story. His latest project was to write the recently released Fleur's Place, the book about the popular Moeraki restaurant and its vibrant owner Fleur Sullivan. We'll talk about Fleur's Place, and the art of bringing together chefs, photographers and personalities in a project to create a book.




Martha Morseth is a writer, poet and playwright who has had a collection of poetry published - Staying inside the Lines, as well as Yeah, a book of stories for teenagers, and Let's Hear it for the Winner, a book of three plays. Her new collection of short stories for teenagers, A cut of unreal, has just been released and is a mix of ghost and science fiction stories.
We'll talk about the fun of writing about cutting edge technology and ghosts, and also about seeing her play The Trials and Tribulations of Emily performed on stage last year by St Hilda's Collegiate School.

So Phryne

Cocaine Blues

By Kerry Greenwood

I here by announce I have started a new addiction - Phryne Fisher mysteries. I had been warned, people had told me I'd enjoy it so much I'd have to have more. They were oh so right.

For those not in the know, Phryne Fisher redefines elegance, intelligence and quick-wit in 1920's Melbourne. She is a sleuth who can pull together a mystery, and an outfit with impeccable taste. You can't help but love her, and the various waifs and strays she pulls in for the ride.

I don't know of any other crime fighters that can drive a racing car, fly and discuss the ins and outs of aeronautic engineering, tango like the devil and dress to kill, other than Bond, James Bond, but Phryne's far more stylish and fun. And Phryne would eat James for dinner.

Cocaine Blues is the first of the Phryne Fisher Mysteries, and I'll be heading down to the University Book Shop for more!

Death by Stephen King

A few months ago I entered a competition for Stephen King's upcoming short story collection Just After Sunset. I like entering competitions, because, hey, who doesn't like getting free stuff. I'm fairly lucky too - my strike rate is pretty good. This one was in conjunction with the Sunday Star-Times and Sky Television.

In this competition, as well as the much anticipated new book, the prize pack contained a little reference to also winning a copy of the Stephen King books which had made it onto screen. At the time I thought that would be a nice little bonus, but it was the short story collection I was really lusting after.

Well, lo and behold, I won the thing! Very excited. But the gratification had to be delayed as Just After Sunset was embargoed until November. But, the lovely lady said, we'll send you the other books now. Enjoy! I thought, excellent, that will be 7 or 8 books. I slightly underestimated. A little box arrived with, wait for it, twenty-seven, yes, twenty-seven Stephen King novels.

That more than filled up the new bookshelf.

Anyway, this is all a longwinded way of saying that Just After Sunset has just this moment arrived with the courier. It seems like a happy reward for having to deal with snow on the car when I went out this morning.

A nice chilling way to ward off the chill.

The Nursing Home Murder

by Ngaio Marsh

Dunedin threw one of those crazy spring days where we had snow in November, and it's still snowing. It was the perfect kind of a day to curl up with a good book.

When I first saw the title The Nursing Home Murder, I had visions of a murder happening in a old-folks home, but no, way back when it was the term used for a private hospital. In this book the murder takes place during the emergency operation for acute appendicitis of Derek O'Callaghan, the home secretary. Derek doesn't come out of it alive and considering there are a number of people in the operating room who have made threats against his life, questions get asked. The mode of murder - a drug overdose, so being an ex-pharmacist this book was right up my alley.

Chief Inspector Roderick Alleyn is on the case, and I have to say I warmed to him, far more in this book than Enter a Murderer, where I found him irritating. Also in this book the only theatrics were those you'd expect during an operation - no actors, thank heavens.

It seemed a much calmer book than the last and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Next on my list on the Ngaio Marsh Challenge is Death in Ecstasy, but seeing as I'm having difficulty tracking down a copy - none in the second-hand stores around here and the library only has the talking book variety, it may take a while.

All's Phryne in the end.

I went into the University Book Shop today to find Fleur Beale's My Life of Crime, but alas they didn't have it in stock. Not one to waste an opportunity I took a little look around to see what new books they had in stock, and courtesy of the evil and enticing way of booksellers, I fell victim to one of those cardboard display stands which they fill chocka full of the offerings of a featured author.

I know, I know, the words gullible, or weak-willed, or impulse shopper apply here, and yes, I'm a marketer's dream target, but in my defence, it was a very pretty display, and how could a girl possibly walk past an entire stand of Phryne Fisher novels? For a start, it would have been unquestionably rude.

I've heard so much about Kerry Greenwood's fabulous Phryne that I decided it was time I found out what all the fuss was about. So I've started at the beginning with Cocaine Blues, and after a few G&T's and a good read, I'll tell you what I think.

Vintage video

The NZ on Screen website is proving to be a gold mine of video treasures, and thanks to Pamela Gordon for pointing out this one for me.

Dame Ngaio Marsh documentary

A documentary about internationally acclaimed crime-writer and Shakespearean director, Dame Ngaio Marsh. It contains an interview with Marsh in her later years interspersed with comments from former students and friends, and re-enactments from some of her novels. It is one of three documentaries made to mark International Women's Year (1975) - the second is about Sylvia Ashton-Warner, and the third Janet Frame.

Watching it this afternoon gave me a great feel for this woman, and what an amazing sense of drama she had. And then there was her voice, deep and rich and listening to her speak, and laugh, I could easily imagine the fun she had writing her murder mysteries. It quite gave me the chills to see her in the flesh - the good chills, that is.

The video concentrates more on her life in the theatre than her life of crime, but it still gives some insight into Ngaio the writer. The timing of finding this treasure is perfect, with me being at the beginning of my Ngaio Marsh Challenge.

I hope there are other video gems out there that will come to light.

Two Little Boys

by Duncan Sarkies.

I'm in a real quandary with this book. It is very rare I find a book I just don't enjoy, and oddly enough, I feel guilty if I don't like a book, especially one by a New Zealand writer, as I feel somehow I'm letting the side down.

But the simple fact of the matter is I didn't warm to this one. I loved the idea, someone accidentally runs over a Norwegian backpacker, panics somewhat, makes a number of very bad decisions, not the least of them being roping in his old mate to help him clean up the mess, and it all spirals down hill for them from there.

I fear it was too blokey for me. I could handle a few chapters of blokishness, but after a while it wore thin and reminded me of a flatmate from my Thames days and his sidekick who probably were daft enough to do a few of the things mentioned, especially under the influence of some of the substances mentioned. Yes, I did find parts of it very funny, so it wasn't all lost on me, but overall, it wasn't my cup of tea.

In saying all this, I recall from when the book came out there were plenty of good reviews and people found it hilarious. So there is a big audience out there who will love this book.

So apologies, Duncan. Being a writer I know how much you put into a novel, and like I said, I feel bad for not liking it, but hey, if you can't be honest in a review on your own blog, when can you be, and after all, it's not like I'm The Listener or anything, it's just the skewed view of one conservative housewife from Dunedin.

Writer's block be gone!

And to help banish it, the kind folk at iTunes have released a new friend...

iStop WritersBlock

This is what they say...

iStop WritersBlock is an application that helps writers with writers block. All you have to do is hit the Random Plot button, and you have a new twist or plot to help you get through your case of writers block.

The timing couldn't be more perfect for some as the have a "special discount during NaNoWriMo"

So there you go folk, your computer can now have a Random Plot Button all for $1.29 US - what fun!