The Quiet Power of Ritual

Our daily lives often hold rituals, small repeated acts that shape our minds, our moods, our wellbeing, our days.

For me, it’s the morning coffee and my word puzzles. I wake early, make my brew, and dim the lights. I sit in my armchair and, after checking my emails and Facebook feed from overnight, I do my word puzzles. There are several I do, and there is a particular order in which I like to undertake them.

The dogs are still sleeping, and I sit in the quiet. A moment of stillness, a pause before the day roars at me.

I think we underestimate the value of rituals. They may seem ordinary, even trivial, but they anchor us. They remind us that life is about presence. I feel settled and well once my morning rituals are done. I feel ready to get prepared for the day and for work.

But there are other rituals I have. Walking the dogs, a book before bed, selecting the soundtrack for my drive into the office. These aren’t just habits, they are structure in a chaotic world. In a world that feels like it’s out of control, there is something revolutionary about repetition, about gaining some control and saying, “this time is mine, this action is mine.”

So today I’m raising my mug to the small rituals.

What are yours?

In Denial. Again.

Quite a few years ago, I was reading in bed - as I always did, and still do - before sleep. I realised I was holding my book at arm's length, just outside the illumination of the bedside lamp. So I asked my wife if I could borrow her reading glasses for a moment. And suddenly, pardon the pun, all became clear.

That was the moment I realised I needed reading glasses.

But a few things started to make sense. For example, we used to have after-work drinks on a Friday afternoon. The beers had a quiz question inside the cap, and I had noticed that recently I'd had some trouble reading this small print. Coincidentally, the office had recently removed every second light bulb in that area as a cost-saving measure, and so I had attributed it to poor lighting. I think I may have even said to my wife that I needed to replace the bulb in my lamp at home, as the one I had wasn't too bright.

It appears now, that maybe it was me that wasn't too bright.

As Agent Cooper was once warned,  it's happening again.

I needed to get new reading glasses, and so I booked in for a test as it had been a few years since my last one. I've always said that my long range vision is excellent - and even my opticians had told me that.  But this new test, which I had a couple of days ago, suggested that it too was starting to deteriorate, and they recommended long-range glasses for night driving and so on.

I guess that would explain why the stars at night seem to be doubled sometimes. That one I didn't have an explanation or excuse for, but I just kind of ignored that.

Oh well, at least my hearing is still excellent.

Great to Get Away

We recently spent a week in Wales, enjoying the mist, cloud and rain that seems to be Summer this year.

The weather was, for much of the week, truly like that. And while I was attempting to be humorous, we actually did enjoy it.

We stayed in a place that is away from everything. It's in the middle of fields, far from civilisation. It has no TV, and we didn't even bring computers. Wonderful getaway.

Last time we stayed there was about two years ago during the week that hit 40c. Yes, it was hot but in the late evening I sat out under clear, starry dark skies and saw some amazing things. That couldn't happen this time, but the weather brought on a different atmosphere. Moody and mysterious.

We walked along clifftops in the mist, looking down at an angry sea pummeling the rocks below, and feeling quite medieval. We sat on the beach under grey skies and ate hot pizza. We walked across fields, with our small dog enjoying all the new smells. We even lit a fire one night and enjoyed our wine.

One of my favourite bookshops is down there, and I've never been disappointed with their selection of used books. I picked up a few, and even supported them by splurging on a new one.  It was one I had thought about buying anyway, but they had it for the same price and signed by the author.

And so I read a lot. I managed to finish two books I'd already started and read four more completely. As I said - cold wet evenings with no TV or computers to distract.

And now I can't wait for my next getaway.

The Right One

When I lived in Australia, I spent several years looking for a book club to join. I never found one.

There were plenty around, just none that suited me.  Our local library ran several. I did, in fact, make an enquiry there. The librarian I spoke to suggested none would suit me. "Unless you like discussing Jodi Picoult novels for five minutes then sharing photos of your grandchildren for the next hour over tea, I don't think these groups would suit you," she laughed.

I don't have grandchildren. Nothing against Picoult, but her genre is not my kind of reading, And, as these book clubs ran weekday afternoons, I would have been at work anyway.

After I moved to the UK, I again looked for a book club. A couple of false starts, then finally I found one. I had high hopes for it. I attended for around 18 months. I never truly loved it, never really enjoyed most of the books chosen, and never really felt connected with any of the other members. (I might say, this is no reflection on the members)

It simply wasn't the club for me. Finally I decided to quit for a number of reasons. Sigh.

Fast forward to this year and I have found a book club. I became aware of this club in a most peculiar way. I took a chance, and I'm so glad I did. I am absolutely loving it. I look forward to each meeting. I really enjoy every second, the people involved, and the way it is run.

Finally, the right club for me.

It arrived at exactly the right moment for me. Just the tonic I needed - along with a couple of other things in a similar vein. 

Needs are being met but you have to give as well as receive. I'm making efforts there as well, and these efforts seem to finally be coming to fruition.

All good things come to those who wait? I'm not convinced by Violet Fane's maxim, but my patience appears to be paying off here.

And All Went Well At The Book Club!

I wrote a while back that I would be attending my first Book Club meeting, and that I hadn't enjoyed the book we'd been set. But I survived it. More than that, I really enjoyed it. And went back for my second meeting a month later.

We met in an old pub in town, perhaps the oldest in Lincoln, as it dates back at least three centuries. I was about the fourth to arrive and sipped a fine ale as fellow members arrives gradually, including acouple of other newbies. Then there were brief introductions and it was on to the book.

As previously promised, I behaved myself and stayed fairly quiet. But I could see the leader glancing in my direction several times, and gently broke the news that I felt the book didn't live up to its promise, its reputation or its awards recognition. I also mentioned serious flaws in the narrative and editing, and that although there was a story there, it was in desperate need of a rewrite and serious editing.

And it was received well. And there was another there who also agreed with me.

The conversation was civil, people chose to differ in opinion with no snarkiness or efforts to "recruit" opposers, and at the end of the evening while most gave scores of 8 or 9 out of 10, a couple of us gave 5s, and that was fine.

Afterwards there was general conversation on a range of subjects, just "getting to know you" type chat, which was easily the most social thing I've done in the past two years, and I came home relaxed and content.

November's meeting was good too, with a broader spread of opinions on the book - I was somewhere in the middle in that I enjoyed parts of it well enough but not enough to follow on and read the sequels.

And then I made the terrible mistake of accidentally double booking for December's meeting, and much to my own dismay, was unable to attend.

But this reminds me. I need to get stuck into January's book. Now, where did I put it?

More Passionate, More Emotive.

Over the past few years I have noticed in blogs and other social media, that a reader was so upset or angered by a book that they threw it across the room. 

I usually wonder if this is literal or metaphorical.

Did they really fling the book across the room? I certainly hope it wasn't a large hardback with a cat on the receiving end. The way it usually reads, though, I suspect that whether they did or did not throw the book, they want us to think they did. And the only reason I can see for this is to show how much they love books, how much the written word speaks to them, and just how passionate and emotive they are.

OK, if that's your measure, then you win. I don't throw books, no matter how much I don't like them.

I can get lost in books and music. I have stood in an audience, listening to a band with eyes closed, and just allowed it to wash over me. Simply standing there, a smile on my face, and a moment that transcends. 

The same with books.

I've read through tiredness and beyond any realistic ability to comprehend the words simply because I loved it so much, was removed from this reality so far, and didn't want to lose it.

Yes, they move me - but not every album or book will. There are books I've persevered with and finished because I was determined to do so, but others I've just given up. I am much less forgiving with music but that's partly because I can skip ahead, sampling tracks, then remove the disc from the player before assigning it to a charity shop bag.

And then, like the above example reader, there are the books I don't like because they frustrate me or anger me. Depending on the context I may continue for a bit, or close it and return for another attempt, or simply stop at that point. But never, not once, have I thrown the book across the room.

But perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps there are those who truly have thrown books across the room in anger.  I'm just glad I wasn't at your place when there was a TV show that angered you.

I have no desire to be hit by a large flying flat-screen.

Continuing Positivity in These Trying Times.

It's been a trying time. The weirdness continues. We're back in lockdown in the UK, the US election has been held along with all the associated fun and games, and the world generally seems like an unhappy place.

There's no doubt that the events of 2020 thus far (and who's to say what still awaits us) have had a terrible effect on the world. Not least in regards to mental health. Even myself, who lives in a relatively safe area, has been fortunate to not have lost anyone, and hold a job which is vital during these times, has felt the stress and strain of the ongoing events. 

I've done my bit to remain positive in social media - trying to share some of my favourite things on a daily basis rather than spread the negativity which seems to dominate our lives. I commenced in March when we all started working remotely from home and managed to get to day 180 before I decided it was enough. I felt I was going to have to start adding things just for the sake of adding things. And not everything can be a favourite.

On the upside I've seen a lot of movies and been reading a lot. I've read and enjoyed a range of magazines which offered short and cheap trial subscriptions. I've read some new fiction from authors in a range of genres. I've devoured a bunch of biographies and autobiographies from (mostly) musicians who interest me. And I've revisited a few old-school Science Fiction and Fantasy authors - some novels I'd read before, some which were new to me. These are mostly beautiful 70s SF novels with the wonderful painted cover art which I managed to find in charity shops. 

It is what it is. We have to learn to live with this. Hopefully we'll all be able to emerge once more and create a new normal. Until then, I'm diving back into the decreasing stack of waiting books next to my bed.

You Can't Judge A Book By Its Table Of Contents.

Late last year I read an anthology from a publisher with a solid reputation. I had picked it up some time earlier, partly because of its cover art (which was fabulous) and partly because of its title and theme. When I read the TOC, I was thrilled, as there were quite a few name authors I had never previously read. The bios of the other authors filled me with hope - award winners, university and lecturers in writing and published authors. In fact a diverse range of gender and ethnicity.

It sat in my 'to be read' stack for a few months, then I pushed it to the top.

The first story was 'Meh'. The second also. And then it dropped in quality. Nothing rose above average, and in fact, a couple of the name authors appeared to have 'phoned-in' their contributions. Some were just completely ridiculous.

Disappointed? You bet.

Now I know taste has a great part to play in all of this. There can be a certain amount of subjectivity. (I know someone who told me it's all subjective, but that's not true. A good writer is a good writer, no matter whether it appeals to me or not.) Many of these stories, however, were full of plot holes, idiotic protagonists and convenient plot devices. They weren't as clever as they author thought, and at least two stories I worked out the ending in the first page or so.

There are times Goodreads can't be trusted, as family, friends and the authors themselves overvalue everything. This anthology had a stack of 4 and 5 star reviews. And then, right there in the middle was a one-star review, which pretty much detailed my own observations of the collection. I couldn't have written it better myself.

I've written along similar lines before, an again even further back. It seems I will regularly be disappointed by some offerings.

Sometimes I should judge a book by just its cover, not the TOC. Although, this time. I would have still purchased the book as the cover was fabulous.

Oh well, a quick dose of Jasper Fforde followed, and all was well with the writing world.

Welcome to 2019.

Happy New Year.

I've had a great break - a really relaxing time with family and friends. We didn't travel anywhere really, but managed to catch up with some people. Mostly we relaxed and ate great food. And I didn't over-eat or feel bloated.

The car decided to get a puncture on Christmas Eve, and of course they don't supply spare tyres anymore.  But this was a puncture where the spray can of foam stuff and nursing the car to the garage wasn't going to cut it. It meant, however, we either stayed at home or walked for a few days, which at this time of the year isn't necessarily a bad thing.

New Year's Eve was pretty quiet. We did stay up but went to bed shortly afterwards. I had too much to do on my secret project the next day to be up too late. And yes, I did get lots and lots done.

As I said in a recent post, I don't really do the whole resolution thing. I make my plans as I go, prioritising and re-prioritising as need be. I do have some plans for this year, one of which is to try and keep track of the books I read. I made a list a few years ago, just on a word document for myself, and if I can find it, I might even post it. This year, however, will be the only other time I have kept track of my reading. I've decided to add a page to this website and make the list public. Have look sometime.

I also plan to write more. You might even see some longer fiction emerging. You just never know.

But I have work to do now, and need to be gone from this page. All the best for the coming year.

Reading Again.

I'm not sure how this happened. I am busy still, and seem to have less time than before, but I'm reading again.

Not that I ever stopped reading. Reading is hardwired within me, and I always have a book on the go. But recently I seem to be back into the same quantity of books I read a few years ago.

Of course I long for my teenage years, or into my early twenties, when I devoured books, reading in bed until all hours and coping daily on a few hours sleep. But those days are long gone, and I simply cannot manage like that anymore. As you get older, you need your sleep.

I've been reading a real mix of books - new authors (to me, anyway) and revisiting books from a few years ago - even a couple from my teenage years. And yes, for the most part, they are still as wonderful as I recall.

I re-read all my Thursday Next books (Jasper Fforde) and then forged into the latest few which I had never gotten around to picking up. I started back into the Saga of the Exiles quadrilogy (Julian May,) which I first read back in the early 80s. I read a wonderful collection of short stories from Alice Munro. Another from Martin Amis. And yet another from Jeanette Winterson. And even more. Brilliant stuff. There's also been a few anthologies, both old and new, from mainstream (SF) publishers and small press. I've done my bit to get to know the local UK small press market.

And my 'to be read' stack is looking healthy. Ann Leckie, more Andy Remic, Thoraiya Dyer, Cat Sparks and others.

In the middle of all this, and around it and through it, I've done my fair share of academic and non-fiction as well.

If only there were more reading hours per day.

I love reading. I always have and I believe I always will. This is one of the main reasons I became an English teacher - to share this love and try to enthuse others.

And if you haven't read a book in a while, stop reading this and go and grab one off the shelf. Now.

The Good Ship, Fandom.

Continuum 13, an annual sci-fi convention, was held in Melbourne over the weekend. Obviously, having moved to the UK last year, I wasn't able to attend. It felt a little weird missing it as I have attended every year since Continuum 5.

From all accounts it was a great convention. Well organised and attended, with interesting panels and workshops. I'm really pleased by this, as I must confess that over the past few years I haven't gotten as much out of the convention as I would have liked. There has been a gradual shift in the focus from the science fiction I like towards pop culture, most of which I have little time for.

Now this is where I am in danger of being misread. I really need to emphasise I'm writing here about my tastes, my preferences, the things I enjoy. Give me old school sci-fi and fantasy any day. I'm not big into superheroes, anime or most other pop culture. I found fewer panels and sessions I was interested in attending each year. Fewer spaceships and robots, and more people with capes. Fewer discussions on classic books and more on TV shows and superhero films. And I'm just not interested in them. Honestly, I couldn't tell you your Magneto from your Brian Mannix.

Over the past few years there have been panels where I struggled to see any connection to SF, fantasy or horror at all. But that's fine. It doesn't matter. The convention isn't solely about me. It's about fandom, and what they want.

You see, if I had my way rock bands with guitars would rule the Top 40, science fiction films would be more like Arrival than X-Men, and reading would be compulsory for everyone. Conventions would have more panels on classic books alongside the newer ones.

But, as I said, it's not about me. There are lots of things that generally don't excite me at the moment. I've already mentioned superhero films. Let's add to that the current trend in retelling fairy tales, urban fantasy, and more vampires. Maybe I am getting older, but like the music I like, I know what types of fiction I like.

If we stick with the music comparison, you'll soon realise I don't have to like it. There are plenty of alternatives for me. And if I dig around I can find plenty of new bands I do like. I don't want to buy a Beyonce album. She doesn't speak to me, and the music leaves me cold. But there are plenty out there who love her music. Me, I'd rather buy the new Roger Waters album.

Yes, I do read new SF books. I have to be a little more discerning in my hunt for them as they're usually not the same books that appeal to my friends. I've tried many of those, and I often find them underwhelming. Taste, again, I suppose.

We all don't have to like everything. Or even the same things. There's room for us all in the good ship 'fandom.' But remember, I don't deserve name-calling or abuse because my interests and tastes lie elsewhere.

Having said that, I've been quite excited about the impending release of Wonder Woman. And I wasn't disappointed. I thought it was fantastic.

You never know. Maybe someday someone will play me a Beyonce track that I actually like.

Start Making Sense.

When I was young, my grandmother used to read a magazine called The People's Friend. First published in 1869, it's still in existence. It contained recipes and knitting patterns and anecdotes from readers about their grandchildren, but is mostly famous for its short stories.  But the one thing I always remember from reading this magazine when I visited my grandmother is the cover art.

At the time, and through the eyes of a child, I thought the artwork was basic and not particularly skillful. I also thought the colours were wrong, that they were too primary. And since the artist, J. Campbell Kerr, produced a new cover each week, that perhaps they were churned out to meet the need.

I recently recalled Campbell-Kerr's name, and was surprised to learn she or he didn't exist. It was merely a pseudonym for a team of four watercolour artists who took turns to produce the covers. But during this moment of research, the main thing I finally understood after all these years is why I knew the colours were wrong. They weren't Australian colours.

The Australian landscape is quite different to the British landscape. The colours are different, the trees are a different range of greens, and on a beautiful spring day the grass, flowers and sky are more primary than the drier, harsher hues of the Australian experience. This is something I knew intellectually, of course, and have been aware of for many years, but when I finally connected this with Campbell Kerr's artwork it really hit home.  This art works in Britain.

But that's not all. As I explore the British countryside I am constantly amazed at how much of my reading experience now makes more sense. Even going back to The Famous Five novels, some of my favourite books when I was a kid, smugglers, secret panels, small islands, copses and coves feel at home in this landscape. Even the work of Tolkien and other British writers now gives me different images and interpretations to the ones I had growing up.

I expect this is completely true in reverse. When I read a story set in the Australian bush I can easily picture the sight, the sounds and the smells, whereas an overseas reader would overlay the text with their own understanding of a woodland.

Context and experience. Live and read widely.

Reading The Beatles.

I'm alternating my reading at the moment, a bit of non-fiction between the fiction. A couple of Spec-Fic magazines thrown in for good measure. Lots of short stories, as this is the form in which I've been writing thus far. But in my non-fiction moments I've been getting back (ha! - get it?) into one of my great loves, The Beatles.

If I had to choose only one band that I could listen to for the rest of my life, then it would have to be The Beatles. I've been listening to them since I was a kid, and I never tire of them. There's a lot of music that speaks to me in ways that other artforms cannot, but music by The Beatles does so more consistently and more meaningfully than most.

But as a whole cultural phenomenon that came to represent everything about the sixties, I find their story fascinating. And so I read about them. A lot. I probably have more books about The Beatles than on any other subject.

It's been a while since I've read much about them. The last few months has seen me read three or four Beatles books, and I've loved every second of it. Insights, different viewpoints, little tales about meeting them, seeing them, descriptions of concerts or events. And every now and again I find something that I didn't know about, something that stuns me, impresses me, or just makes me jealous I wasn't ten years older. Makes me wish I'd lived the sixties as a teenager and managed to see them live.

But I have my little Beatles moments I cherish. Standing next to a guy as he was opening all the mail addressed to George Martin. Sitting at the console in studio two where they recorded just about everything. Touching the keyboard Billy Preston played in the Get Back sessions. Playing the piano Paul used on Lady Madonna. Standing at the Strawberry Field gates in a mist so magical and mystical I half expected Lennon to walk towards me.

There truly will never be another band like The Beatles. At least not for me.

Check out my Beatles page here.

Travelling In Pages.

I read widely. Not just in regards to genre, but also gender and culture.

Everytime I travel overseas I try to pick up at least one collection of locally published fiction. The last time I was in Kuala Lumpur, for example, I grabbed a couple of Malaysian anthologies and collections, as well as a couple from other Asian countries. Mostly these are 'literate' stories, although Asia is very good with its horror. In the past few months I've read collections by Malaysian, Japanese, Israeli, Colombian and Egyptian writers.

It's fascinating to see how others construct stories, quite often very differently to the 'rules' I've been taught. Many of the stories I've recently read, for example, have no resolution. One in particular, by an Egyptian writer, was absolutely stunning. It's a story that has stayed with me, and features a construction I'd love to attempt one day.

We all perceive the world differently. Check out how others see their lives.

How far have you travelled in your reading?

Falling Short.

I am constantly amazed at how other authors sculpt words.

I read a wide variety of books - short stories, novels, series, non-fiction - across a variety of genres. And as I read, I find myself analysing whole sections, and trying to understand how the writer achieved certain effects. I've found this doesn't take away from my enjoyment of the text - I find it actually enhances it. The more I read, the more I realise I have to learn. And yes, I find it frustrates me from time to time. I'm filled with self doubts and feelings of writing inadequacy, but it's always followed by a determined optimism to learn and improve.

I'm currently writing a story that I really like. I like the ideas, the setting, the characters, but there are a couple of elements of storytelling I want to achieve that I haven't successfully managed to do.

But that's what the first draft is for. And the second draft will fix those parts, improve the story and the writing.

And hopefully, one day, all this will permeate my brain, and my first drafts will be closer to the second drafts.

Let's hope it's sooner rather than later.

Writing For Writers.

A few months ago, my school leadership asked me to submit a proposal to introduce a new subject in 2014.

I wrote an outline for a course, Writing for Writers, designed as an elective subject for year 9 students. (I believe that would be equivalent to Seniors at Junior High School)

Not only was the proposal adopted and offered, but I'm thrilled to discover that there were enough applicants from students to run two classes.

Two!

Think about it.

We are continually told that students in Year 9 are the least engaged in education. We are told they have no interest in English, or reading, or writing. And yet I had around 50 students apply to do more than the required English class. (My friend David had a similar number of students apply for his Maths elective.)

So what does this mean?

Do students find mainstream English too constricting? Is the course too focused on essays and text analysis? Are we taking the joy of writing and reading out of school? Or is it simply that not every kid wants to do wood or metal or textiles as an elective?

Whatever the reason, I think it's fantastic and I look forward to the challenge of developing an actual course now.

Words Are Flowing Out Like Endless Rain Into A Paper Cup.

The piece I mentioned I've been struggling with has now been put on hold. That story will still happen, but it's been difficult to get going and even though I got some words down, I'm not really happy with them. Instead I've moved onto another story.

Last week, while walking the dogs, I was throwing around a story title that I'd discovered while I was in China earlier this year. And I was suddenly hit by a narrative idea that matched it. As soon as I got home I sat down and typed up 1,000 words without any effort. Clean words, that will require little editing or rewriting. And the process since then has remained as easy as that. This is going to be a good story. I can feel it.

I don't think I could have written this story a year or so ago. I wouldn't have known to include the elements vital to make it work. It feels like I learn new truths about writing almost daily. Even this morning, I had one of those 'hit yourself on the back of the head' moments. D'oh!  While reading a short story, I recognised an obvious aspect of writing that's been missing from my own work. And of course it is something that had been mentioned to me previously, but that I hadn't really 'got'.

Ah yes, I'm quite optimistic about my writing future at the moment. How's your writing going?

Reading Makes Writing.

The one piece of advice I continually see from professional writers is the need to read as much as possible. This has never really been an issue for me as I've always been a voracious reader.

As a child I sent many hours in the school library, both hunting for books and reading them - sometimes entire YA novels in my lunch break. I was well known by the library staff and they were very supportive. It was there I saw my first SF books. I loved the look of those Asimov novels with his name emblazoned across the top in block letters over the amazing artwork by Chris Foss. And the fact you could lay the books side by side to make an even bigger picture was a bonus.

The name ASIMOV was rather exotic sounding, and the science part of Science Fiction scared me a little. I asked a friend whether he'd read any Asimov, and once he'd told me he had I asked him whether it was able to be read by non-scientists.

And so I borrowed 'Foundation', and loved it. Within a few weeks I'd started buying SF novels from markets and used bookstores, originally based on the cover art. 'The Tower of Glass' by Robert Silverberg was next, followed by a Philip K. Dick, and so on. It wasn't long before I'd built up a knowledge of the authors I liked, and those I didn't 'get'. It took me many years and several attempts to get past the first hundred pages of Frank Herbert's Dune, for example. 

I still regularly read Bob Shaw, John Brunner, Michael G. Coney, Roger Zelazny, Robert Sheckley, Frederik Pohl, Poul Anderson and A. E. van Vogt as well as the old masters mentioned above.

My tastes have broadened. I read a lot of fantasy during the 80s and early 90s, something I haven't done for a long time. And for some reason I mostly read female authors now. I also read a lot of Australian small press - something I didn't even know existed back then.

Which reminds me. I need to catch up on my Analogs, Asimovs and F&SFs. I'm a few months behind. It's time to take a break from the non-fiction I'm currently reading.

Asylum Seekers And Bum Jokes.

Yesterday I went to the Melbourne Writers Festival, accompanied by a colleague and twenty five students. I never got to the sessions I would have chosen, but to sessions the kids needed to attend.

Andy Griffiths was the hit of the day - kind of like a children's rockstar. All he has to do is talk about bums, vomit and heads exploding and the kids were eating out of the palm of his hand. The queue for his book signing was way longer than any other.

Morris Gleitzman was also popular. His approach to speaking to kids was quite different, but then so are his books. The kids really enjoyed him too.

I was thoroughly impressed by Deborah Ellis, the Canadian author who writes about children in war and other hotspots. She was in conversation with (I think) Sheelagh Purdon of the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre. I didn't catch her name, and the programs show two different people listed.

Deborah and Sheelagh's approach to this issue was sensitive, balanced and measured. Their advice and responses to students was thoughtful and encouraged students to take the initiative to seek the truth. And, I might say, the questions from auditorium full of students were intelligent and articulate.

It was great to see Margo Lanagan too. I was only able to say 'Hi' briefly, and I saw her signing books. I wish I'd been able to attend one of her sessions.

All in all a successful day for my students, all wannabe writers and avid readers. And if these festivals encourage reading and writing, then we all need to be supporting them.

Another Year.

I've had a great break, but it's almost time to start work again. Back to school on Tuesday, and I must admit to looking forward to some of the classes I have.

We have some great texts to teach this year, including World Shaker by Richard Harland, Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, Minimum of Two by Tim Winton and the film Gattaca.

Generally I have great students who enjoy these books, but like any sample of kids you find some who have absolutely no interest in reading. And that is my biggest challenge. I understand kids who don't like reading, the same as some don't like maths, or sports, but it is necessary and I find I need to make them at least accept they have to put up with it.

From time to time I can turn one around; one who doesn't think they like reading, and end up enjoying the book and picking up more.

And for me, that's a win.