The first success of the year

Yay, I'm getting something published this year. A few months ago, I entered a short story competition for a website called Parenting Express (http://www.parentingexpress.com/). They were asking for a short piece around 900 words exploring an aspect of parenting the 0-5 year old age group. I decided to put together some of my thoughts about the first year of my son's life. Not long after he was born, we all moved to Hanoi, Vietnam for my partner's work. That first year of taking on the life of a mother as well as an ex pat was a challenging one. The words flowed fairly easily and I could have quite happily kept writing. I finished the piece and sent it in.

Down the track, I was informed that I wasn't shortlisted. Oh well, onto the next thing. Recently however I received an interesting email. My piece had just missed out on taking a place but the judges were so impressed that they'd like to publish it anyway. In 'My Child' magazine. Woo hoo. So look out for the May edition of 'My Child' magazine and you'll see my little piece. Unfortunately no payment accompanies this achievement. Instead I have a two year subscription to the magazine. Who said writing is a mug's game?

My date with myself

In Julia Cameron's book, The Artist's Way, she advises her readers to take themselves on regular artist dates. It doesn't have to be anything extravagant; just something to fire the creative juices. I've always liked the idea but, since becoming a mother, finding time and space to have a date with my partner has been close to impossible - let alone dating myself. BUT...on Friday I did it. A day...well, 6 hours...to myself.

One child delivered to the bosom of public primary education and the other in the care of the local creche, I took myself off for a cup of tea in Yarraville. Such bliss to be having a quiet cup of tea and reading the paper without interruptions and constantly checking that no-one was about to stick a finger into an electric socket. I sat at a communal table and let the buzz of conversation relax my mind. There were so many possibilities in front of me that I was almost immobilised by choice. Then I looked up and saw the Sun Theatre smiling at me from across the road. A movie. An adult movie. That would be nice.

I picked up a brochure on movies and session times and stepped from the bright morning sunshine into the dim foyer. A familiar face was buying a ticket. The mum of one of my son's school friends. I bounded up to her to find out what she was seeing. "The Blind Side". Hmm, I was more interested in seeing "The Hurt Locker" but unfortunately that was wasn't on til noon; way too late. The young guy selling the tickets informed me that "The Blind Side" had Sandra Bullock in it but it was a good film. I was sold and Donna was happy to have the company. I adore movies. Since having kids, my movie days have limited in both choice and opportunity. Lots of kids' films - luckily there's a lot of good kids' films about. So Donna and I enjoyed the delight of sitting still and tuning out of our daily lives and watched a feel-good movie with a positive message and a happy ending. Sandra Bullock was great but I have to say I was a little distracted by her strangely shaped top lip. What I did like were the action sequences. I've never been a big fan of American football - it's always seemed too technical and stilted to me. The football scenes in the movie however were well shot and exciting to watch. It helped me appreciate the sport a little more. It gave me food for thought in terms of igniting a reader's passion for a topic they've never considered before.

After the movie and a quick lunch at home, I was off to do the one thing that I had planned. My parents gave me a voucher for lingerie for Christmas. To help me ease back into post-breastfeeding life, bless them. The voucher was for a lingerie shop in Clarendon Street, South Melbourne. I lived in South Melbourne in the 1990s and just loved it. A quietish suburb, minutes from the city. Man, has it changed! For a start, I had to pay to park! And now there's a real buzz about the place. The shops have, for the most part, gone upmarket. A few stalwarts like Ferrari Suit Hire, remain in amongst the gloss and glamour of the cafes and boutiques. I won't go into the minute details of my lingerie shopping, suffice to say, I was helped by a lovely young girl and was very pleased with my purchases. I had just enough time for a quick cuppa at home before putting my mummy hat back on and picking up the kids.

Julia Cameron is right - our inner artist does need to be "taken out, pampered and listened to". Take yourself to the beach at sunset for a walk, visit a local gallery, have a massage. Do things that open sides of you that rarely get an airing. For next artist date, I'm vowing to go to the NGV. Gazing at art is something that always fires me up. Beauty and creativity is all around - we just need to take the time to notice it.

Gala Storytelling Night

On Saturday night, I went with a couple of girlfriends to the Gala Opening of the Wheelers Centre for Books Writing and Ideas. One friend, Robyn, and I travelled in by train and were running late. The line for seats - we all had tickets but seats weren't allocated - snaked out the front doors of the Melbourne Town Hall, along Swanston Street and around the corner up Collins Street. The faces of the people queuing up were shining with expectation. Around us milled another crowd of people; all wearing AC/DC t-shirts and all wearing the same excited faces. You've gotta love Melbourne.

Once inside, Rob and I met up Alison and we went upstairs to find seats. The place was packed and as always I admired the amazing organ pipes behind the stage. Chrissy Sharp, the CEO of the centre, welcomed us and Peter Bachelor, the new Arts Minister, did the usual political aren't-we-great blah blah. There was also a beautidul acknowlegdement to the traditional owners of the land we were on by an elder whose name I have now forgotten but will look up. And then the show was on the road.

A croaky-voiced David Malouf opened with unravelling of a family secret. How did his mum who'd grown up quite privileged in England come to be a deck-class immigrant to Australia? A tale about the power of secrets. Cate Kennedy followed with funny, endearing tales of her eccentric, belligerant grandfather. I thought to myself that my own eccentric, belligerant grandfather, Harry, would have loved Cate's poppa. The laughs continued with Shane Maloney's tale of how his father asked him to edit his (the father's) memoirs. Shane is dismayed to find one reference to himself - a short interlude about how Shane was born with an extra toe and how his father and the doctor decided to cut off the toe at the same time he is circumcised.

I think Judith Lucy was next and as usual she had us laughing at the foibles of her parents. Her mother once gave her a vivid account of Judith's birth and then three years later Judith discovered she'd been adopted. In a lovely Irish accent, Alex Miller recounted one of the bedtime stories his dad used to tell him and his siblings. The message was that the things we value aren't always as valued by other people. Chris Tsiolkas recounted the first time he went to the Greek village of his mother's family when he was ten. His grandmother was aghast to discover her daughter had been lax in giving young Christos lessons on how to kill a chicken. She filled in the gap in learning, much to Christos' horror. As an adult, working in a vet's office, this lesson came back to help him. John Marsden recounted a confronting tale about a visit to a clothing shop and the lessons of judgement and trust.

The beautiful Tara June Winch told a lyrical tale of heritage and love about her grandmother. There were tears in glistening in many eyes after that stary. John Safran revealed that the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree as he recounted how his father prodded him into subversion as he was growing up. Chloe Hooper reflected on an Aesop's fable her grandmother used to tell her and whether she'd ever understood it as a child. Now as a adult she reflects the meaning could be more about the unfairness and unevenness of life. Alexis Wright told vivid, poetic stories of her Indigenous heritage and finally Paul Kelly recounted how his aunty met and married an American and sang a song of their meeting.

It was a wonderful night. The stories were tight and meaningful. No-one overstayed their welcome and everyone had something to tell us about the power of storytelling. Rob, Ali and I left on a high, looking forward to the upcoming events planned and organised by the Wheelers Centre.

The new project

I'm off and writing and, for a change, enjoying myself. I've been struggling with my writing for the past few years...well, really, since I had my first child. I lost my mojo and I'm slowly getting it back again. It's easy to put yourself in the back seat when you have kids. I think all parents do it, to some extent. I decided recently that it was time reclaim my life. I've started 2010 off well. Last month, I went to a short story writing workshop run by the marvellous, Cate Kennedy. I attended with a girlfriend who's in the second year of reclaiming her life. I've got tickets for this Saturday's Gala opening of the Wheeler Centre for Books, Writing and Ideas. The list goes on.

The best thing is that I'm writing, and writing more regularly. Well, I'm not writing on my blog too regularly, I admit. I've started something new. A crime/fantasy novel for the pre-teen/early teen age group. I've never written for this age group before and I've never written anything with a fantasy element before, but I've been inspired by my writing group, Clan Destine. A motivating bunch of women and men who have opened my eyes to new ways of expressing myself. I'm giving this story a red hot go and, for once, the words are flowing. I'm into Chapter 8 and in my head I'm further down the track.

2010 - the year I reclaimed my life, my mojo...(TMI) and my libido!

Dear Famous Botoxed Actress....

Dear Famous Botoxed Actress,

I've recently read articles about you and other actors like you; read about how much you love Botox and what it's done for your confidence. I appreciate that when you look in the mirror and see an unlined face, you must feel fantastic - like you've cheated time and regained a decade. What I'm sure you don't do is see what we see. We being the audience. What we see is a freaky face that doesn't move, emote or resemble anyone other than Barbie/Ken doll. The unlined face may be great for you, but it's not great for us. I find myself being so fascinated and appalled by the frozen features of an actor that I miss out on what's going on. The actor can't fade into a character under those circumstances. And I also ask you how you can be a character when your face shows no character - how can an unlined baby-like face be a person of interested and depth?

I'm sure these words won't change your mind but I do ask that you think about them before your next appointment with the needle.

Yours sincerely

Concerned member of the audience

The Kindy Christmas Concert

Last night marked the end of an era. My son's kindergarten group had its Christmas concert. I sat amongst all the other parents and watched the faces of our children. Happy cheeky faces that were round and dimpled at the start of the year and have become leaner as the months have passed. No longer pre-schoolers, they'll all be starting school next year. They sang their favourite songs for us, complete with arm actions. Some of them forgot the words and laughed; other didn't sing but kept up with the actions. My son was in the back row. Shyness is not in his vocabulary. He sang loudly and proudly. They sang us Christmas songs. We laughed and cheered, and quietly, in our hearts, said good-bye to our babies and hello to our big kids.

The kindy teachers had prepared a portfolio of the year's activities for each child. I flipped the pages and read about my son's growth. I looked at the photos of him painting, playing with clay, riding scooters; at how he learned to write his name. I'm not one of those parents who are sad about their kids starting school. I'm happy and excited for him. But this portfolio moved me and brought tears to my eyes. My big boy.

Santa came and handed out presents and then we went outside to enjoy the food we had brought along with us. I chatted to mums and dads I had become friendly with over the year, knowing that there are many I may not see again. We're a diverse bunch; Muslim, Hindi, Anglo, Tongan, Vietnamese and so on. A good reflection of the community we are living in and a fabulous example of how many cultures can come together without conflict. The friendships the kids have made make me hopeful for the future. The noise of the kids running about was loud and spirited. Eventually as it become colder and the light began to fade, we gathered our kids up and began to leave. Next week is the last week of kindergartern. The adventure for our kids is about to begin.

Writing a novel in a month

November is National Novel Writing Month. This crazy endeavour was started by a couple of Americans over a decade ago. The friends decided to try to write 50,000 words in a month. Over the years NaNoWriMo has gotten bigger and bigger and is now a worldwide event. I've tried to do NaNoWriMo for a few years now and the best I've ever done is about 8000 words. The first few times was when we were living in Hanoi and November always coincided with our annual return to Melbourne for Christmas so despite my best intentions, I never wrote much. The best attempt was the November after we returned to Australia for good. I only had one child at that stage and tried writing in long hand, grabbing moments when I could. I went well for the first week or so and then my enthusiasm petered out. So far this year I've only managed 2000 words and I really should have over 10,000 by now.

All this makes me wonder why I bother and more importantly makes me ponder my motivation and commitment. It's so easy to blame having kids for not being able to write. I know women, published writers, who write and have kids. They are organised and keen. They get up early and squeeze out words in quiet moments. I saw Catherine Deveny speak at the Writers Festival last year on the topic of art and motherhood and she says she gets up early and writes 500 words before doing anything else. Before even getting a cup of tea!! These women inspire me. Every time I see one of them doing well, it gets me motivated...but not for long. A musician friend recommended a book to me not so long ago. "The War of Art" by Steven Pressfield. In it, Pressfield discussed the factors that block and impede creativity - what he calls 'resistance' - and how to break the hold resistance has over you. Great book - well worth a read. One thing he says in the book is of interest to me. Breaking through resistance means being a professional, not an amateur. Treating your writing like your vocation, your job, your life. And I think that's where I need to make the transition.

Meanwhile, I will go back to my NaNoWriMo novel with a whip in one hand to get me going and a thesaurus in the other.