Madcap Adventures and Distracting Hijinx

Mystery and the Art of Author Events

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Last Friday I ventured out into the chilly Brisbane night to attend the In Conversation event with Kate Forsyth at the Brisbane Square Library.

There are certain writers that I’ll always make the effort to go see when they do events, because it’s basically a masterclass in how to manage the author/reader relationship. Kate Forsyth is in the top five authors on that list, and her events are always fantastic.

While lots of authors will try to tell you about the story they’ve just written, Kate builds up stories around the act of writing–she tells you the story of the research, of the inspiration, of her own journey as a writer.

Part of Kate’s bio mentions that she’s a verbal storyteller, as well as a novelist, and you can definitely see it as she talks about The Blue Rose. She builds intrigue into the discussion to pull you forward and get you interested in what happens next. Among the hooks that emerged through the first fifteen minutes of conversation were:

  • Despite its popularity as a symbol and icon in western culture, the Red Rose is native to China and only got imported in the seventeenth century.
  • The man who reportedly brought the red rose to England, Gilbert Slater, may not have actually done so. The ship originally bringing the first sample over sank prior to reaching England, and his gardener’s diaries suggest the red rose wasn’t among their gardens.
  • At the same time, England send a trade envoy to China in an attempt to redress the trade imbalance taking place–England imported silks and tea, but exported very little back. The envoy returned with two rose bushes…but there’s no indication of the second’s colour.

Virtually nothing is said about the book at this point, beyond Kate’s story growing from the little mysteries that opened up in the gaps between these facts, but there’s a lot of tension to be resolved here and the promise is that it can only be resolved by reading Kate’s novel (or, perhaps, going back to the non-fiction book that first sparked the idea and recreating her research journey, but whose got the time for that).

As the talk moved away from the initial inspiration and towards theme and content, the same principles were at work–look for the details, create tension that only story can resolve. for example, when Kate talked about the French Revolution which provides the backdrop for the novel, the talk quickly moved towards the way popular vision and real life differed.

Although she grounded her interest in a personal story about reading the Scarlet Pimpernel at a young age, it quickly moved to detail-oriented topics: the way guillotines needed to be moved, because the blood and death started attracting stray dogs and cats who fed upon the gore; about the life of nobility, and how they may have been as eager for change; about the notion of social change itself, and how that rapid social change differed from everything that came before it.

There was more. I mean, I walked away with four pages of notes form the talk, and I was only scribbling for about half the time Kate was speaking, but you can get the general gist from this. There’s an art to talking about your work, and a lot of writers don’t develop it.

If you ever get the chance to see Kate Forsyth speak–even if you’ve never read her fiction–I strongly recommend going for it. She’s one of the best you’re going to see, particularly in Australia.

Some Days You Want To Punch A Shark

PETERMBALL Madcap Adventures and Distracting Hijinx

Some days you want to punch a shark, but you don’t, because sharks are big and aquatic and in possession of teeth far sharper than yours.

Some days you want to punch a shark, but you don’t have the bus fare to get the the aquarium.

Some days you want to punch a shark, but if you cannot go to the aquarium, how do you handle the logistics? You have to get to the ocean and meet the shark in its home terrain, figure out how to handle the rigours of breathing or floating while throwing a punch that will mean something? Do you know how to scuba? Do you know how to surf? How do you even know where the sharks are going to be?

Some days you want to punch a shark. Usually, it’s a Monday.

Some days you want to punch a shark, but you fear what might happen when you give in to that impulse.

Some days you want to punch a shark, because punching sharks seems badass. You are not a badass. You are soft and quiet and you enjoy a cup of tea. This is not a bad thing, really, but perhaps you have been told otherwise.

Some days you want to punch a shark, but you know this is wrong. So wrong. 

Some days you want to punch a shark, so you daydream about going surfing. About drifting in the water where the sharks are local. Hanging out there, waiting until you see a fin in the water, goading the shark into lunching at you and trying to take a bite. It’s okay to punch a shark if the shark starts it, right? You would like to punch a shark, but you don’t want to be the bad guy. 

Some days you want to punch a shark, but you know this is still wrong.

Some days you want to punch a shark, but do you? Do you really? This isn’t the sort of thing people dream about, so where does this impulse come from? Have you been watching Sharknado movies? Did you sit down and watch The Meg? 

What does the shark represent in this scenario? What void are you hoping your shark-punching will fill?

Some days you want to punch a shark, because it’s easier than admitting that part of you admires the shark. The simplicity of their life. The simplicity of their huger.

Some days you want to punch a shark, but you don’t. You make that choice.

Some days you want to punch a shark. Some days, you do not. If this is a shark-punching day, slow down. Take a moment. Breathe. Focus and be mindful. Focus on the things that mean something to you that do not involve fists and teeth and fins. 

Pinch Hitter

PETERMBALL Madcap Adventures and Distracting Hijinx

I got called in to deliver a seminar presentation on short notice. Twenty-six hours from “yes, I’ll do it,” to being in the room talking submissions and the publishing industry and answering questions about how it all works. Building content off the powerpoint provided and trusting in experience and prior seminars to fill in the rest of what I needed.

It went well. Better than expected, since the last time I did a library seminar was around three years ago.

I love a quick turn-around project, every now and then. The pressure to deliver on a tight deadline, coupled with the knowledge that you’re a last minute replacement, means I’m hyper-aware the the primary virtue of the work is getting it done on time and good enough instead of fretting about being great. 

Over the years I’ve done it with freelance game design, short stories to fill anthology gaps, lectures, workshops and seminars. They’re almost never the best work that I’ve done, but they’re among the most satisfying projects I get a chance to do.