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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Pirene's Fountain

For the poetry lovers among you - the lovely Ami Kaye from the poetry ezine Pirene's Fountain showcases my work - in a rare combo, both fantasy and poetry! - in the new issue, which has been released today. And there are a few poems, including recent ones from my upcoming book, in the current issue.

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Books, books, books

One of the fringe benefits of being a writer is that I seem to get constant deliveries of books. Not just the books we buy and read, but mysterious parcels that arrive in the post. Sometimes they're books by friends, usually poets; sometimes they're my own books (I have a shelf full of Pellinors!) and sometimes they're books to which I've contributed in some way.

In the past couple of days I've had two of those. One of them is an handsome orange paperback called Contemporary Australian Poetry, in which I have a poem. I'm not sure which poem it is - I contributed it along time ago - because I can't read a word of it: it's all in Chinese. It's edited by John Kinsella and Chinese-Australian poet Ooyang Yu, and translated by Ooyang. Translation is a mysterious business. In European languages, you might not understand the words, but you can still see the shape of the poem. In Chinese, I can't even see that - I just stare at the page in baffled admiration!

I can read the other book, though. This one is called The World of the Golden Compass, and it's a collection of essays on Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, written by young adult authors (including not a few Australians, such as Juliet Marillier and Sophie Masson). It's edited by Scott Westerfield and put out by Ben Bella Books as a Borders exclusive. For that one, I wrote about the poetry Pullman used - there's a lot of it - thus combining two of my passions, poetry and fantasy. I loved writing that essay. The whole thing is a great read, so look out for it. (I think, though, that it's only available in the US).

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