Some months back, when writing about my newly published short story collection, l promised to post any good reviews. I did receive a very good one last month, but it was in a newspaper and difficult to copy clearly. However, much to my surprise, another very positive review appeared last Friday in a website Booklovers. Chris Reed reviewed the collection, and what he said brought tears to my eyes – of joy. So, I would love to write about something joyous, when often there seems little to be joyous about (I’m talking World News here). I had to trim the page for a screen shot, but have included the link for the full read below.
Wednesday was art class day, and I really should have stayed home. Not because I did bad work, which was surprising as I’d hurt my back and felt very under par. But, since I had been enjoying the classes so much, I headed down to the ferry at 9am. It was on time, which meant I could easily make the early bus from the waterfront up to the art school. That bus never came, and I arrived late to class. The studio door was shut and a notice said KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING. My tutor greeted me grumpily, and then, I needed his help to erect the large easel (grovel, grovel). It took me ages, to collect paper, peg it to the board, and get out my drawing gear, which meant there were just a few seconds left to sketch the first pose. “Try and capture the model’s emotion,” the tutor said. I think I captured my own splendidly.
I used willow charcoal stick here.
Saturday evening was the local launch of my recently released book Pocket Money and Other Stories. As this is the only decent photo taken on the evening, I can’t show you the audience listening to my readings, or me signing my books for the said people, so you’ll just have to take my word that the event occurred. It took place in the Devonport Returned Services Association rooms, in case you’re wondering about the Commonwealth flags and the photograph of HRH Queen Elizabeth 2nd on the wall behind me. On reflection, I was pleased that my first reading included mention of the grandfather who’d been killed during WW1, as it befitted my surroundings. A great venue for introducing my book to local people.
Well, I had wanted to write all about my trip to the Hundertwasser Art centre I visited recently, but something caught my eye in my local bookstore. My book on the shelves already, which was sooner than I expected it to be! So, people, another blog about my jolly book. Or rather the bits and pieces which go into publicly announcing it on New Zealand media which is on-going. Reviews can take ages to come out, so I was told today, and I won’t always know when that will appear in the media. Do I need to have someone who will read the daily papers and check whether one story which was selected for an on-line source has occurred? It would be terrible to miss the very opportunities that might make me even a little bit famous.
Honestly, I have been so busy, filling out Q & A requests from media, taking calls from my publicist and mulling over all of this during the night when I’m supposed to be asleep! Tomorrow I am going to be pre-recorded for a national radio arts show, and have been checking through the salient points that I am most likely to be asked. I am actually not as anxious as I may sound, and think that the twenty minute interview will go well. I have listened to Lynn Freeman’s interviews many times on her Standing Room Only show, and she does have a nice approach, and comes across as well informed. Not being live, makes it easier, so I guess if there too many mumblings and um’s on my part, they can be edited.
Time for a lie-down.
Although Pocket Money & Other Stories won’t be released until June, at least the marketing is getting underway. It has been rather strange, sitting back, and letting the publicist take over the reins. With the last book, in 2020, I did all the marketing and promotional work, and over the past few weeks I’ve basically been fluffing around. But this week, I decided I must secure a venue for the June launch. One place had been mucking me about, and so, I visited a couple of others, which were unsuitable, and then? I found a very convenient venue, just down the road from my apartment. And now, I need to put the invitations and posters together, and get them ‘out there’.
I did start a sketch for this blog, but it seemed some weird force was against me completing it. I knew that sketching two people, as opposed to one for a portrait was difficult (as I have completed several like this in the past), but I was keen to sketch this image of my granddaughters together. And, guess what? I have one looking fine, my proportions spot on, but the younger girl? I just couldn’t get her right. But, I haven’t given up on that project, yet.
I’m really happy to report that my book is now at the printers; I have managed a couple of days doing absolutely nothing except walking and being a slothful version of myself. Oh yes, there was the slightly stressful ‘having my photo taken’ exercise for publicity purposes. I had an idea of how I’d like the scene to be, but do not like having my picture taken. Thanks to my photographer daughter, who knows just what to say to relax the shoulders and get that grim mouth show a slight smile, worked her magic. I really do like the end result. Thank you Lara.
The reasons I haven’t been posting are not because I was away on another sojourn enjoying the sights, quite the opposite. I wrote a post some weeks back (Sept) about the time it takes in this writing lark to hear back from people. In that post I wrote that I had sent off a pitch to an agent regarding my short story collection. I waited the 6 – 7weeks indicated when I should have heard back. Seven weeks turned into twelve and I decided to chase this up. No response. Last week (16 weeks from original submission), I wrote a longer message. A reply, saying: “Oh, so sorry, your work must have been sent to So and So’s scam folder and been deleted, for all the work from that month has been seen to, and your file is nowhere to be found.” And then the bit that said – “sorry about this, you can resend if you wish, but we understand if you want to send it elsewhere.”
When others discovered I wrote, I was asked many questions beginning with W. When? Why? What? and Why? again. The last why was because I had always been known as an artist, and friends couldn’t understand the shift. I don’t think any of them would have understood that it had started as a game. I was teaching English in Japan, spending a lot of free time on my own and reading a lot of fiction. One evening, I wondered if I was capable of dreaming up a plot for a novel. Well, that was twenty years ago, and the answer is ‘yes’. I have been writing fiction ever since and absolutely love it! But some days, I don’t wonder why I started, but why I continue, as it all takes so long.
Whenever I read a regular post by someone from Brittany, I am immediately taken back several years, when I met two men from that region. I had been staying with a friend in the fabulous Villefranche-sur-mer, on the southern French Coast, when she suggested we visit some nearby gardens she had spotted in a tourist magazine. Hanbury Gardens. Old, and of historic interest. The images looked beautiful, so I said “why not?” and we planned our trip for the next day, Saturday.
Me on left, all ready to go.