buttons galore

I read a lot of interviews with writers that make me feel totally inadequate -- not because of their amazing sales, or fabulous output or self discipline, but because so many have tried all sorts of interesting jobs before they started writing. I read their fascinating lists of jobs -- everything from helping in a wildlife reserve in Botswana to being a pavement artist in Paris and I sigh and remember I've only had one other job besides writing and that's teaching. Which is not boring in reality. Every day, every hour in a classroom brings surprises. But to an outsider... it doesn't quite measure up as exciting or eccentric or Bohemian.

But I mustn't forget that I have had one job that was a little bit different. My very first job (a holiday job when I was about 14 or 15) was in a little factory that made fabric covered buttons.

OK, I know that doesn't sound exciting either, but it was for me. We made all those gorgeous buttons -- like the tiny ones covered in silk or satin that go all the way down the back of a bridal gown. And because this was in the olden days when everyone still made their own clothes, we got tons of orders for all kinds of specialised buttons. Each morning, I would do a round trip of the haberdashery departments in all the major department stores in Brisbane -- David Jones, Mc Donnell and East, Finneys, Allen & Stark etc and I'd collect the orders for the day. In the packet with each order would be the small, very precious pieces of fabric we were to use to cover the buttons. I say precious because if we (school friend, Cathy Harrison and I) made a mistake we'd be in danger of not having enough fabric to complete the order.

Then we would beaver away cutting out circles small, medium or large, depending on the button size and squeezing them in the little presses, praying that nothing slipped and they came out perfectly neat. Oh, the responsibility!

In the afternoons, one of us would go back to all the stores again delivering the finished buttons. I earned 5 pounds four shillings a week and I felt terribly important. I liked this work much better than later holiday jobs, selling things in shops. I was always nervous about giving change.

So that's my tiny try at something different (except that I was a breastfeeding counsellor later and I ran playgroups, but these were voluntary). I'm sure some of you have had incredibly interesting and varied jobs. I'd love to hear.

Current abode: The City

I’m finding my dual life a tad disruptive. We can’t stay in the country for as long as we’d like because of E’s work (he still has monthly meetings and invariably other things crop up that mean we stay in the city longer.)
In many ways this is great, especially as I get to see more of Lilly. Last night we had a birthday tea for her dad and E cooked chilli quail, while I made Marion Lennox’s bread and butter pudding, using the recipe in Sizzle, Seduce and Simmer. Try it – it’s divine.

Right now we’re fretting about a little grove of rainforest that we planted last week at Tarzali. Has it rained since we left? Have our poor trees wilted? It’s hard to know because Tarzali sits in a kind of radar shadow behind Mt Bartle Frere, so its rain doesn’t show up on the meteorology maps.

On the writing front, I’m in the last phase of my current story – busily trying to wrack up the tension and layer in lusciousness – wish I’d been to Barbara Samuel’s seminar at the RWA conference!

And yesterday I received a box of my next book – Blind Date with the Boss, as well as a complimentary copy of the 2009-2010 Australian Writers’ Marketplace. I’d completely forgotten that they’d asked me if they could reprint an article about category romance that I’d done for the Queensland Writers’ Centre.

I was busily hunting through the index, trying to find my article tucked away somewhere at the back when – crikey – I discovered it on … page one! Gulp. I remember before I was published I used to look on this tome as a kind of bible and now I’m in it. And here I am still struggling to think of myself as a “real writer”.