News from Holiday-land

Last week, we went for a family holiday. This event, by no means unusual in most families, last occurred in ours nine years ago. (That's the downside of having writers for parents. Of course, as we keep reminding the beloved offspring, there are lots of upsides...)

However, when we do go on holidays, we have good ones. As we did nine years ago, on that other legendary occasion, we went to Queenscliff, an old-fashioned and very pretty seaside resort on the Bellarine Peninsula, a shortish train trip from where we live. It's notable for its food and its spectacular Victorian hotels, all of which escaped the evils of "development" and then were restored when Victorian splendour became fashionable again.


There we rented a townhouse with a giant tv (and other more modest ones distributed about the house), and plenty of room for the six of us to read, or play games, or hit each other with cushions, or snooze. (It wasn't the building above glimpsed through the cypresses, which is one of those towered hotels, but it was right next door to the famous Queenscliff Hotel, where we had a most memorable lunch). We took up a bunch of books, dvds and games, and spent the week in glorious idleness.

The most important decision each day was where we should eat. If you like eating, Queenscliff is a good place to be. It's a bit of a foodie's paradise, bristling with specialist delis selling exquisite concoctions bewitched from the excellent local produce, and, of course, restaurants. As you might surmise, I'm not the action-holiday type, so it was a week short on thrilling narrative and very long on leisurely pleasures. And all of us agreed that the only criticism to be made of our holiday was that it was too short, and that we shouldn't wait nine years before we tried it again. I certainly feel more relaxed than I have for, oh, nine years...


Sadly, I am not a very good photographer. The picture above is of a beautiful sunset behind the Queenscliff lighthouse. Just looking at it makes me feel good, because I have the memory to fill it out, but I'm certain it won't have the same effect on you. But you can see, I hope, something of the charm of the place.

But anyway, to get to the point: while I was away, the news came through of an offer for the Pellinor books from Spain. They plan to publish all four through 2009/10, which is quick work! So the Pellinor Plot to Rule The World (very quietly) still proceeds apace...

Which seems a very good omen at this year's end. Prost!

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Checking in

Hello, Pellinorites. I see that I haven't written anything here, except answers to comments, for far too long. But now it's getting near to Christmas, I'm going on an actual holiday next week, and I've shut up shop on my theatre blog, which gobbles up all my blogging time. And I thought I should wave a hand and sprinkle some Christmas dust for my faithful readers.

Life has been jogging along quite undramatically. The US edition of The Singing is getting closer and closer, and the odd proofing query is still dribbling in (amazing, really, by the time the books get to the States, I calculate they've been proofed by about 10 people, including me...and there are still tiny corrections...) I keep getting boxes of German books, which are piling up in the garage. I don't know any German fantasy readers, so I'm not sure what to do with them. But what each box means, when it arrives, is that another print-run of the book has been released in Germany. Judging by the boxes, Pellinor readers in Germany are beginning to add up. As they are elsewhere. The Gift is now on its 12th reprint in the UK - I've lost count here. And apparently it's been sold to Portugal, with things in the works in France. So Alison's Plans to Take Over The World continue to move. Bwahahaha...

It's all very cheering, and it's all because of you readers. I am very grateful. Because the Pellinor books aren't a big advance, glamorously hyped series. These sales haven't been driven by publicity, but by word of mouth. Your mouths. I'm grateful to all of you.

So may you all have a brilliant Christmas/Solstice/Hanukkah/Muharram/holiday/Bardic festival of your choice. And I'll be back in the New Year, hopefully with a new book. Not a Pellinor book. Just another one. That's the plan, anyway. It's about time I wrote something else. Wish me luck!

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Checking the books

My rather unscientific mode of tracking how my books are going no doubt leaves a lot to be desired. I get reports (and sometimes photographs) from family and friends who lurk in bookshops, turning the books cover out when the shop assistants aren't looking (they're a loyal bunch, and I guess the family has a material interest). Anyway, I heard two bookshop reports which pleased me very much this week.

I was totally delighted when I heard that my new collection of poems, Theatre, was in the front window of the Paperback Bookshop in Bourke St, Melbourne. Poems? In the window? Now that is cool, even if poetry is never going to pay the rent. And then I heard that The Singing was spotted in the Best Seller shelves at Borders. That must mean I can officially call myself a Best Selling Author. I've ordered the badge...

Life otherwise has been, to say the least, chaotic. I feel like I'm running like a loon just to stay in the same spot. Despite this, I really have started a new novel. It's a fantasy novel, but it's very different from the Pellinor books. Shorter, for a start. It's written in the first person, which I am enjoying, and it's set in a world and time very like ours. It's not quite what I expected I would be doing, which I take as a good sign, and I have no idea if those who like the Pellinor books would go for this one. But this character has taken hold and is demanding to be written. It's coming slowly but steadily. Writing is very mysterious sometimes...

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Bestseller at last?

I've always been a little confused as to what constitutes "best seller" status. Aside from phenomena like Dan Brown and JK Rowling, I mean. How do you tell? When people say "best seller", does it mean the top ten of all books? Or just some top tens? Or what?

Anyway, now I might be able to claim that I am an international best seller author. The Singing has made it to No 2 in the fantasy and science fiction categories on amazon.co.uk, and is also No 2 on children's SFF. And is at No. 31 overall. I've no idea how amazon reflects general book sales, but in this list I'm currently beating Pratchett, Rowling and Pullman, with only Christopher Paolini beating me to No. 1. (So not quite a No. 1 Bestseller! But I'll settle for No.2.) I doubt this will ever happen again, so I might as well enjoy it. Just to prove it, I took a screen shot (click the image for a clearer version):

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I guess it had to happen

That is, if I'm going to running around like a headless chook* (as we so gracefully say in the Antipodes) at some point I'm going to fall over. This happened last week. I cancelled everything and stayed home wondering if someone had pinched some of my nailclippings and was shoving a red-hot needle through the head of a voodoo doll that looked just like me. Not a sensation I enjoyed particularly, I have to admit. In any case, the culprit was isolated yesterday: an infected tooth, which has been summarily removed by a very nice dentist. The relief is beyond words, and all I can say is that, for all its disadvantages, I'm very glad I live in the 21st century...

Apparently this tooth has been infected for a long time, and I suspect it might have been making me feel unwell for a while. With any luck my general health with be less dodgy after this. In any case, I'm officially convalescing, and thinking that I might be able to tidy my desk, catch up on some correspondence and maybe even instil some order into my life... though that might be a little ambitious.

The new Australian releases of the first three books are now out in the shops, and in some cases, in large numbers... Borders seems to be giving them a huge push, with a three-for-two offer on the first three books. Which is actually a bit exciting. And I believe the Australian pub date for The Singing is now July. Pub dates seem to be changing all over the place, so when I have straightened my desk (a massive job) I will send a few emails to publishers to get the latest news.

But I agree: The Singing is taking too long! One fan is so impatient she's written her own version, which is presently running to seven chapters. In the meantime, Walker Books has put a teaser - the new first chapter - up on their website as a downloadable pdf. I actually can't wait until it's out, it never feels finished until you can hold the book in your hot little hand...

* Australian for "chicken"

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Being an Author

Some people become writers because it's a nice private job where no one can look at you. I'm that sort of writer. I hide from cameras of any kind. Radio is a medium I approve of heartily. Deep inside, I superstitiously believe that each photograph steals a little bit of your soul.

Video, of course, is even worse.

So I spent this afternoon with some lovely people from Penguin Books Australia, trying to pretend that none of the above is true and that I wasn't agonisingly self conscious. Oh, I might be a writer, but being an Author is all a bit, well, traumatic. I am very happy for people to read what I write, but I'd rather they didn't look at me. On the other hand, in order to read what I write, they usually have to buy the book first; and in this modern world, away from the goose quills and smudgy type of Grubb St, that means Sales and Marketing.

Some videoed bits are for an upcoming Australian-based website that Penguin is making for the Pellinor books. Another bit was for the sales team at Penguin. I did my best: I tried to pretend that I'm the sort of person for whom the camera is a friend. But I'm just not.

The lovely people who coached me through it all with great charm and patience said I did fine. I hope they're right. I am now conceiving a plan: I have to become so famous that I need never stand in front of a camera again. Then I can just be a "famously reclusive" author, rather than just unknown. Or promising. Or whatever I am at present.

In the meantime, I'll let you all know about the website once it appears, no doubt when the new editions of the Pellinor books come out in Australia. One of the things I videoed was a reading of an extract from the new opening of The Singing, which might interest some of you...

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Time. Don't Waste It.

I often remember that Albert Camus had a sign on his desk saying: "Time. Don't waste it". I am looking at my diary and I am out for the next four nights seeing plays. I will be reviewing everything I see (two for the newspaper, all of them for my blog) and I want to see all of them. (Well, maybe I want to see three of them, and am hoping to enjoy the other one.) And I have a meeting on Saturday afternoon, talking with a dance company, who are all brilliant people, which is why I said yes. I still have to write that review of Le Guin's Voices. (I said "yes" to that because I love Le Guin's work).

I spent this morning having a fun time writing background stuff about the Pellinor books for the Candlewick web page, doing small rewrites for the Oz on a review of a wonderful film of Hamlet I saw on Sunday night at the Melbourne International Film Festival, and walking around in circles in my kitchen, sneezing. (This is true). I am not at all sure if this is normal behaviour. Any of it.

Ok, this is a busy week. But I'm getting a little edgy. I think I have to write something. I mean, something that isn't a review. One thing I have to do is work on my next book of poems, which is supposed to come out next year. I'll have to stop being wimpy soon and get down to it. At the moment I'm feeling a little squeeeeezed. I'm not complaining; not only is it all my fault, I'm having the most wonderfully interesting time. But I am wondering how I wrote The Singing, because I didn't seem much less busy then. How do you tell if you're wasting time?

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Busy!!

Great to see readers here, and welcome! In particular, thanks for liking the books so much. One reason I wrote them was because I remembered how much some books mattered to me when I was young (actually, books still matter enormously to me: but there's something about the books you read when you're younger, they stay with you) and I hoped that the Pellinor books might be like that for others. So you don't know how wonderful it is to hear from readers who love the books.

Quite a few of you have been asking some interesting questions about how the books were written (ah, that past tense is so wonderful!) and I'm revolving a post in my head which I'll put up sometime next week. At the moment I'm flat out with theatre - four shows in three days! I put on my favourite dress to see the Royal Shakespeare Company do King Lear last night (disappointing) and am off to see whether they make a better fist of Chekhov's The Seagull tonight. I hope so. And I'm also reviewing Ursula Le Guin's wonderful book Voices for ABC Radio... Once I've done my reviews - I review some shows twice, once for the newspaper and once for the theatre blog - I'll have a bit of a rest and talk about me.

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First post

I've decided to start this blog for a couple of reasons. The main reason is that I don't have batallions of secretaries (ok, one would do) who can answer my mail for me and - pathetic though it sounds - I'm getting very behind on answering my fanmail. I can't even keep up with my SFFWorld discussion forum. And I'm beginning to feel very guilty.

This is partly disorganisation, and partly that I'm incredibly busy. I have too many lives: I don't just write fantasy books, I also write poetry (I ought to be working on my next collection right now), edit an online magazine called Masthead (which I'm also feeling guilty about) and spend a lot of my time at the theatre - a passion of mine - which I review for the Australian newspaper and my review blog Theatre Notes. And sometimes my family likes to see me, too.

Meanwhile, lots of things are happening with the books. And my webpage is getting more and more out of date. A blog seemed to be the answer for all these problems. So here it is.

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