Six months later... twenty years later...

Leaving Tarzli, we drove back to Townsville on Friday and on the way passed the sugar cane I told you about at the end of last year.

Back then it was only a few inches high.

Now it looks like this.

Elliot is 6 ft 4 ins, so that gives you an idea how high it is. Then, when we got to Townville had the loveliest weekend with No I daughter, Emma, home for her twenty year school reunion.( OMG, where have those years gone? I can remember how heart broken I was when she left home at 17 to go to university.) But we had a great time this weekend. So  many wonderful, long, lovely chats.

poetry...

Every so often I need to read poetry. Poets are so in love with words. They have so much to teach us. One of my favourites is Pablo Neruda who writes originally in Spanish.
I love this... Do you have favourite poems? I'd love to hear.

Pablo Neruda's To the Foot From Its Child

A child's foot doesn't know it's a foot yet

And it wants to be a butterfly or an apple
But then the rocks and pieces of glass,

the streets, the stairways

and the roads of hard earth

keep teaching the foot that it can't fly,

that it can't be a round fruit on a branch.

Then the child's foot

was defeated, it fell

in battle,

it was a prisoner,

condemned to life in a shoe.

Little by little without light

it got acquainted with the world in its own way

without knowing the other imprisoned foot

exploring life like a blind man.

Those smooth toe nails

of quartz in a bunch,

got harder, they changed into

an opaque substance, into hard horn

and the child's little petals

were crushed, lost their balance,

took the form of a reptile without eyes,

with triangular heads like a worm's.

And they had callused over,

they were covered

with tiny lava fields of death,

a hardening unasked for.

But this blind thing kept going

without surrender, without stopping

hour after hour.

One foot after another,

now as a man,

or a woman,

above,

below,

through the fields, the mines,

the stores, the government bureaus,

backward,

outside, inside,

forward,

this foot worked with its shoes,

it hardly had time

to be naked in love or in sleep

one foot walked, both feet walked

until the whole man stopped.

And then it went down

into the earth and didn't know anything

because there everything was dark,

it didn't know it was no longer a foot

or if they buried it so it could fly

or so it could

be an apple.

Translated by Jodey Bateman

From last Saturday...

Here we are, gathered in Havva's lovely country style kitchen, and I'm busily explaining how I use collages... Soon there were magazines being cut up and glue sticks flying.

A little bit quiet...

Have had my head down writing, and when I haven't been writing I've been talking about writing, first at the Ravenshoe writer's group and yesterday with our own NQ romance writers. Yesterday we gathered at a member's home in Mareeba and had a great time, with most of our group practising pitches to agents or editors in preparation for this year's conference in Sydney. Helene Young, who successfully pitched her book Border Watch at a conference two years ago, was on hand to give great pointers.

In the afternoon, I showed my collage PowerPoint and then everyone had a leisurely time flicking through magazines and tearing out pictures to make their own collages. I love watching people get excited when they begin to feel the potential of using visual images to prompt and please their writing muses. The combination of visual stimulus plus music on headphones (instrumental music without words) works for me every time, and yet, crazily, I don't always use it. That's a good reason to talk to others about it every now and again, because it can remind me about good habits I've let slip.

Today, however, I'm giving myself permission to spend most of the day in the garden. You've no idea how naughty it feels when my manuscript beckons, but being naughty is always fun, isn't it? And this particular naughtiness is also rewarding. Besides, I have to go back to the city at the end of the week and I know I'll regret it if I haven't done some of the "outside" things I longed to do.

Oh, and for those of you who know my guinea fowls' history, I should report that they are now incredibly independent and, like any teenagers, they take off to visit our neighbours and show no gratitude for the expense and loving hand rearing we gave them when they were babies. They don't even sleep in their beautiful pen anymore, but roost in a nearby tree -- but so cute, all in a row. Every afternoon they come down to the house hoping for grain (which they get) and they hang around and admire themselves in our French doors and then bathe in our dust. That's guinea love for you.

My brush with fame...

I'm in a book with Nora.

OK, it's in Scandanavian countries only and you need a magnifying glass to see my name, but Nicola Marsh is there too. Yay, Nic. We'll take fame (almost) any way it comes.
oh, and the book? A Wedding at Windaroo.

An Old Farmer's Advice...

I found this in among my "Docments" this morning. I can't remember where I found it so I can't attribute it to anyone, but I love the wisdom here. I had apparently underlined the advice about the face in the mirror each morning, so I guess it really rang true for me. I also love the one about ordering other people's dogs. Which is your favourite?

* Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong. *

*Keep skunks and bankers at a distance.*

*Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.*

* A bumble bee is considerably faster than a tractor.*

* Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.*

* Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.*

* Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.*

* Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.*

* It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.*

* You cannot unsay a cruel word.*

* Every path has a few puddles.*

* When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.*

* The best sermons are lived, not preached.

* Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.*

* Don't judge folks by their relatives.*

* Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.*

* Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.*

* Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't bothering you none.*

* Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.*

* If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.*

* Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.*

* The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin'.*

* Always drink upstream from the herd.*

* Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.*

* Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.*

* If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.*

* Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply.*

*Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.*

* Don't pick a fight with an old man. If he is too old to fight, he'll just kill you.*

How the other half sees it...

Elliot was recently interviewed for Romance Writers of Australia's HeartsTalk magazine. This is what he had to say (and yup, I still love him):

Elliot, you are more involved with romance writing than most husbands or partners, how did that come about?

First let me stress that I don’t co-write any of Barbara’s novels, the craft of romance writing is well beyond my capabilities.

However I’m quite chuffed when she refers to me as her “first reader”.

I suspect I became more involved than most husbands because of my professional career as a journalist and editor and I’ve always been fascinated by a good story. I read my first novel when I was ten (James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans by the way is not only an adventure story; it’s one of literature’s great romances).

Barbara ran story lines and pitches past me during her four and a half-year journey towards publication and it seemed natural to be involved or supportive once she was picked up.

Are there risks in being too closely involved?

Absolutely, this is dangerous ground. We are dealing with the creative thought process often under deadlines and stressful conditions.

It is so easy, even for a well-intentioned bloke like me, to silence the “Girls in the Basement” or ruin the author’s voice.

It took me a few years to realize that having two writers in the one household involved sharing a limited amount of oxygen on occasions.

That’s because we males are genetically engineered to take control, offer advice when it’s not being sought, interfere, solve problems when they don’t even exist, dominate conversations and generally act like the heroes in romance novels.

What advice can you offer to other husbands and partners?

Please guys, don’t panic if you simply want to wish your loved one well with her writing, back her 100%, but can't bring yourself to read any of the stuff. Remember we’re talking about stories crafted specially for women and not many blokes read them.

Don’t worry… she’s in safe hands with her fellow writers and RWA.

I tell anyone who will listen that my wife is in “one of the most supportive professions unknown to man”. She’s been welcomed into an amazing support group that I truly believe is unique to the sisterhood of romance writing.

It’s hard for men to grasp, but you women share trade secrets and intellectual property, go to extreme lengths to encourage others into your profession, embrace new authors who could be expected to reduce your own market share, back each other emotionally in good times and bad… and generally have fun while doing all this.

How do you think most men feel about romance writers?

Who cares? Men don’t really count in your industry as writers, editors, publishers or consumers. I’ve stopped bristling when male friends or my colleagues ask Barbara about sending away for the “formula” or wanting to know how many novels she “churned out” last year.

I suspect many feel a little intimidated, but they do respond to statistics which males normally relate with success, and they are stunned if you quote the size and status of the market, particularly in the US.

Men tend to put down or send up anything that is slightly beyond their own intellectual property or experience.

For example, early in my wife’s career I was mixing semi-formally with old colleagues and we were trying to see what intellectual resources we could muster for a community project.” Well, there’s Elliot, he’s probably the most well read bloke in our group”. I was modestly taking in this unexpected professional compliment when my friend added “Yes. He’s read everything Barbara’s ever written”.

Sometime later, at a busy pedestrian crossing, a group on the other side of the street waved and pointed excitedly. “Look, look everyone! There goes Barbara Hannay’s husband”. If you are an Alpha male I suspect this could be difficult to handle.

You’ve been involved in RWA conferences here and overseas and accompanied Barbara to London and New York.. what were some of the highlights?

I enjoy romance conferences (and believe the Australian ones have the best karma) and I find women presenters much more skilled at imparting craft than most men I’ve listened to at corporate conferences and seminars.

But I’m also the type who’s sensitive to social gaffes and I still wake up in the middle of the night sweating with overwhelming remorse at some of the things I did or said in the earlier years.

I’m amazed that Barbara didn’t divorce me on the spot during our first visit to Richmond.

She was being hosted to lunch by two very senior Mills and Boon editors when my Alpha Male in the Basement surfaced and I offered to help them “ counter the company’s low profile in the publishing industry”.( Ok I know! But it was 10 years ago and I was only trying to help). Barbara’s recollection was that I actually suggested their books would now sell better because they had shown the good sense of signing her up.

I no longer attend luncheons with editors.

Because I also had some background in marketing I also questioned the same senior editors’ choice of title for Barbara’s first book. The hero was Fletcher and the heroine’s name was Ally. I have never seen two people more suited to each other. In particular Ally was the perfect woman for Fletcher… but he was too stubborn to admit it. I suggested “Right up Fletcher’s Ally”. They took it on board but foolishly insisted on “Outback Wife and Mother.” I still like mine better.

Free writing courses...

If you're interested in some free writing courses, check out this blog.

Getting to the heart of things...

I had another false start with the WIP, but it has been eradicated and I've finally found where my story begins. It's finally starting to feel good. I'm happy -- and I haven't lost everything, have salvaged 10 thousand words.
What's it about?
Here (in totally random order) are some of the pics that make up the collage on my screensaver. They'll give you a clue or two.

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.

A true heroine...

Did you know that Mary Burchell, the beloved Mills and Boon author whose first book was published in 1936, was also a true heroine, whose real life story was even more exciting than her books?

Mary (real name Ida Cook) and her sister very courageously helped to smuggle Jews out of Nazi occupied Europe, and you can read more about this fascinating story on Mary Jo Putney's blog at Word Wenches.

We interrupt this program...

Today I had to do my quarterly BAS which was actually due last month, but I totally, completely forgot about it. At times it can be hard trying to live in two places and keep track of everything, especially boring things like bills.

But the kind of nice thing about going through a mountain of dockets and credit card statements and recording expenses is that I get another opportunity to remember all the great things that I've done over the past three months and to recall how lucky I am... including how many books I've bought (am slightly addicted to The Book Depository) that I still haven't read.

Even so, doing anything with numbers always makes me a tad nervous. I think it's a hangover from primary school and mental arithmetic. So I'm always relieved when this task is done. Afterwards, I walked up to the PO (a couple of blocks) and dropped my completed BAS into the box before I collected the mail... and then...

I suddenly remembered that I'd posted the WRONG BIT of the BAS form.

When I explained my dilemma, a very pleasant PO worker kindly fetched a key and unlocked the big red letter box and retracted my envelope. I guess she agreed to do this because I'd only just put it in and I knew exactly which box and could describe the envelope etc, etc.

But as always, such a dilemma is grist for the mill for a writer. In stories, PO workers don't need to be so obliging, so of course I started thinking about a story in which something is mailed by mistake and of course the damage can't be fixed by a friendly worker or a simple phone call.

Then again .. maybe if I wasn't so dreamy, always thinking about stories, the ATO would be pleased.

Back to writing...

Yesterday I ripped out Chapter One. Was it painful? Yes. Necessary? Very.

Remember last week I said that this story takes a while to get the hero and heroine together? Even though I admitted this, I was smugly assuming I could get away with it.

Came back from my weekend away with fresh eyes and knew the story started at Chapter Two, so Chapter One is now in a "dump" file. It's back story. OK, yes, maybe it's important as it explains what's been happening, but it was basically me exploring my characters. Deep down I KNEW this, and I knew it didn't feel right.

Yeah... didn't feel right as in... no one will want to buy the book if they picked it up in a store and read the first page.

Do you do that?

I do.

Some authors hook me on page one. There's something about their voice that just draws me in so I want to be in that world. That's what I'm striving for now with my new Chapter One.

One perfect day...

Saturday, May 15th... Ben and Jade... here's wishing them happy ever after. Beautiful couple in a beautiful setting...

My mum, my sisters and me...

Back in town...

We're back in Townsville. Packing up and cleaning before leaving Tarzali and then driving for 4 hours is a bit of a saga, so we always reward ourselves with dinner at out favourite Thai. Tomorrow we're flying south for a family wedding. Not one of mine -- a nephew -- and that will be really nice. I'll get to see my daughters again, and my mum and my sisters, and my other grandies and so many others. I'm getting excited. Granddaughter Lucy can tell me all about her audition for Junior Master Chef.

Hope you have something nice planned for your weekend too.

Now... my task for this morning is to calm down and to write. Disciplined R Us.

Happy Mother's Day...

I hope you're having a lovely day either being a mum or remembering your mum.

I've had a quiet but productive day that's included:

1)writing -- I have at last got my hero and heroine on the page together. Often I try to start with them together early, preferably on the first page, the first paragrah, even the first sentence... but this story called for something different. I'm happy now they're in the same room though. Let the new tension begin!!!!

2) 4 lovely phone calls -- one from each "child," all in distant parts.

3) planting sage and escahllots in the herb garden

4) starting to paint our bedroom (which won't be our bedroom after the extensions which are due to start in a month or so). Here's a before shot, and you can see the room is very dark and log cabin-y. It has its own kind of cosy charm, I guess, but we're now committed to painting the whole inside of our cottage white (or rather off white). We're in love with the results so far. The place feels bigger, brighter, cleaner and more like a country cottage than a log cabin. I promise to show after photos, but don't hold your breath. This painting business can't be hurried.

OK, I'm off to wash my hair and have a cuppa with my neighbour.

Sunshine and a first...

We had sunshine all day yesterday and it's sunny again today!!! And would you believe I came down with a streaming cold? As Ned Kelly said, "Such is life."

I've also had news that my 35th book has been accepted and it's going to be called Molly Cooper's Dream Date.

I rather like that. I've always wanted a title that included a character's name. The title has a chick -lit feel, which is understandable as the book is going to be part of the Romance line's Fun Factor mini series. The first book in that series was Jessica Hart's Oh, So Sensible Secretary which I adored. Her story was so light and full of humour, but perfectly crafted while delivering a touching, heart-warming romance.

My book is about a London banker and a girl from Magnetic Island who swap houses and almost the whole story is told through emails and diary entries. (I was going to call it Your Place or Mine? :) ) I had so much fun writing it. It was such a shot in the arm to try something completely different. Of course, it won't be out for ages yet, so I'll tell you more closer to the publication date.

What's out in May?

This month Executive: Expecting Tiny Twins goes on sale. Aren't those babies gorgeous? You could be forgiven for thinking that I was a little twin obsessed, but as I explain here, this story wasn't exactly my idea.

This is Book #2 in the Brides of Bella Rosa continuity, following Raye Morgan’s wonderful launch book Beauty and the Reclusive Prince. The Bella Rosa stories follow on from the previous series The Brides of Bella Lucia.

It’s the first time I’ve taken part in a continuity series and it’s quite a different writing experience. To begin with, the story lines and character details are all decided by a team of editors. Each contributing author is sent a “bible” with the whole set up explained as well as a family tree of all the characters and synopses for all six books plus pictures of the setting and main characters that appear in every book. While writing, the authors keep in touch each other to make sure the setting and story details remain accurate and in the right sequence.

For me, I found that writing a story that was given to me felt quite different from writing one that has emerged slowly out of the depths of my own consciousness. But I think it’s important to take on new challenges, and I’ve already had some positive feedback from a generous fellow author. I hope you enjoy Jack and Lizzie's story and I hope you like the whole series. I think it's interesting to see that the editors are really pushing boundaries in contemporary romance.

Here’s a sneak peek at the opening. It is, of course, a very familiar setting, similar to many of my books, because while pushing those boundaries, each author was still asked to write to her strengths.

Chapter One

She was wearing white, for crying out loud.

Jack Lewis grimaced as the elegant figure descended from the tiny plane while clouds of red dust slowly settled on the airstrip. The same red dust covered his ute, his riding boots, and practically everything else in the Outback, and yet Senator Elizabeth Green had chosen to arrive on Savannah cattle station dressed from head to toe in blinding, laundry commercial white.

Her elegant sandals were white, her crisply ironed trousers, her matching linen top and even her floppy brimmed hat. The only non-white items were her accessories – swanky dark glasses and a pale green leather shoulder bag that clearly held a laptop.

Where did she think she’d flown to? The flaming Italian Riviera?

Jack muttered a soft oath, audible only to Cobber, the cattle dog at his heels. ‘I suppose we’d better go and say g’day.’

Shrugging off an uncomfortable sense of martyrdom, Jack set out across the stretch of dirt, moving with a deliberately easy amble, his faithful dog close behind him.

He was mad with himself for allowing his boss, an eighty year old widow, to bully him into hosting this visitor. Kate Burton regularly tested Jack’s patience by directing her business via long distance phone calls from her top-price-tag retirement home in Melbourne.

‘I owe Lizzie a favour,’ Kate had told him breezily. ‘She won’t be any trouble, Jack. She just wants to rest up and take in the country air, and she needs to retreat from the public eye for a spell. You understand, don’t you?’

You can read more on my website.

A special weekend...

We've had another lovely long weekend with visitors. Last weekend friends, this weekend family. It's still (yes, I'm not exaggerating STILL) raining (worst wet season ever for FNQ) but we were cosy indoors with the fire going.

Milla and Sophie enjoyed watching the misty rain on the hills from the verandah. Don't babies always look scrumptious when they're just bathed and in pjs and ready for bed?

Lilly (the twins' big sister) and I managed to use a little patch of sunshine to tidy up the herb garden. Lilly was v handy with scissors and trowel.

And Lilly and I had a nightly sparkler ritual that was great fun.

I cooked up our family favourites -- bacon and macaroni casserole for the children; caramel rum pie for the adults. But the best meal was when my son Richard (a former chef) helped me make a fabulous ricotta gnocchi with pumpkin and blue cheese from a recipe in this month's Country Style magazine. It. Was. Truly. Divine. Rush out and buy a copy if you live in Oz. I only hope I can reproduce it on my own.

Back to writing tomorrow. Promise.

guineas going for a gander...

We've been keeping the guineas in their cage after one sad mishap with a currawong, but now that they are bigger and able to fly really well, we've started letting them out in the late afternoon under supervision for their green pick.

Dad is very fatherly and watchful and this afternoon a currawong sounded nearby. After one signal from Dad (undetected by us ) the entire flock froze... and froze... and froze... Honestly, we have five photos of them all in exactly the same position.

I know people who have a lot to do with animals and birds will not be the slightest bit surprised, but I can't help marvelling at little but fascinating details like this.

After this, one teenage guinea flew off for an adventure of his own, but then came home to roost. In fact, we think they're big enough and clever enough now to roam free.

It's all in the nose??

Did anyone watch QI last night? (This is a BBC TV show, but I'm talking about the Australian screening on Tuesday nights at 9.30.)

I'm rather addicted to it. It's rather like having a dinner party with very, very clever guests.
Anyway last night I learned that, apparently, we breathe through alternate nostrils -- on an approximately four hourly rotation. When we breathe through one side our visual and spatial functions are enhanced and when we breathe through the other our verbal capacity
increases.

Which might explain why many writers have zones when writing flows quite well
and others when it's like wringing blood from a stone.

This was a bit of a light bulb for me as I had surgery on the outside of my nose a few years ago that caused inside cartilage in my right nostril to collapse. There are times when I can't sleep on my left side, because my right nostril is blocked -- and times when it seems to be OK. Now
I might know why. :)

Now if I can just use that to work out which nostril is working when, I'll know when to get cracking at the keyboard.

I did start a new book yesterday (at last). I'm really looking forward to it, but yesterday was a blood out of stone day. Beginnings can be so tricky. You have to work out exactly where to start and how to grab the reader's attention and how much to tell about the characters and what kind of mood you want to establish, and what kind of world you want to paint, and what's important to know straight up, and...

My wordcount yesterday was dismal, but I know this happens with every book, so I'll stop complaining and just get on with it.

If you're interested, this is what the QI website says about the show.

Quite Interesting - or 'QI' to its friends - could loosely be described as a comedy panel quiz. However, none of the stellar line-up of comedians is expected to be able to answer any questions, and if anyone ends up with a positive score, they can be very happy with their performance. Points are awarded for being interesting or funny (and, very occasionally, right) but points are deducted for answers which merely repeat common misconceptions and urban myth. (Alan Davies has turned this aspect of the game into somewhat of an artform.) It's okay to be wrong, but don't be obviously, boringly wrong. In this way, QI tries to rid the world of the flotsam of nonsense and old wives' tales that can build up in your mind. QI not only makes us look more closely at things, it encourages us to question all the received wisdom we have carried with us since childhood. Think of the program as a humorous cranial de-scaler.

Writing about emotion...

One of the most important ingredients in a romance novel (in any fiction really) is emotion. And one of the reasons people like reading fiction is that they can feel all kinds of emotions without suffering any of the consequences.
In fiction we try to reproduce the emotional impact of an experience. Our narrative comes alive and is made vivid and moving through significant detail. As every liar knows, details and colour make a story sound true.
‘I’m sure I paid that bill. I remember the guy standing in front of me in the line was wearing a vest and he kept on yapping about his granddaughters.’

(It's convincing, isn't it? How can he not have paid the bill when he remembers so much??)

Emotion is usually experienced as a physical reaction, so if you simply write, “she was afraid’, you will keep the reader at a dispassionate distance. However, if you give physical details --

e.g. Her heart was pumping so hard it felt too big for her chest.
Her fingers were too weak to dial the phone.
you allow the reader to share the experience.

So... in the interests of showing emotion rather than telling, I started making a file some years ago, so that I didn't always fall back on the same old ways of describing these emotions and their accompanying sensations. I made notes from a library book on body language (I'm afraid I’ve forgotten title and author).

This year, at our retreat in Sydney my writer friends and I took this a step further. We took four emotions (anger, fear, attraction and joy) and we made two lists. On one side we listed the (external) physical signs that show a character experiencing an emotion (clenching fists, slumped shoulders etc) and in the other column we listed the (internal) physical sensations that the point of view character might be experiencing (sick in the stomach, lightning in veins etc).

At our most recent North Queensland romance writers gathering, we extended this list further and added sorrow. We also added more details to the lists I already had (without looking at the earlier contributions first) and we had a lot of fun. Better still, we now have a resource that helps us find the best way to describe how a character might be feeling or behaving at certain times in our stories. (Great minds and all that.)

It's worth trying in a group if you're lucky enough to have writing friends close by. We all learned heaps and we're inspired to be more original and precise in our writing.

The fabulous resource that inspired this exercise for me was Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway.

A between books hiatus...

I'm still painting.

As my sister commented in an email, it is rewarding because you do see immediate results (although that first undercoat always looks a bit grim.) We're in the dining room now... and... on the writing front, I'm waiting to hear what my editor thinks of my new ideas. Very soon I'll have to dive into a new book.

Yesterday, I made a Tessa Kiros recipe -- honey cake with chopped rosemary in it and lemon icing with rosemary flowers scattered over the top. It's ages since I've made icing, however, and it was a bit runny, so I've had to borrow someone else's photo. Mine looked almost like that, but you could see the brown cake through the icing. In painting terms, it looked like a first layer of undercoat. :)

Honey cake sounds rather romantic and Winnie the Pooh-ish, doesn't it? And it is rather yummy, so once I've perfected it, I'll pass on Tess K's recipe.

A wander at dusk...

I think I love this place best in the late afternoons when the hills are shadowed and velvety and the sun sheds a special light before it finally disappears. On a stroll two evenings ago, we enjoyed these sights...

Our pumpkin haul...

Native violets... (scattered with grass thrown by the ride on mower)Our cutting. It's an old railway track and it forms the main drive into our place., and as we follow it, we see lots of...Tree ferns...

If we gave this place a name, I think it might have to be Tree Fern Cottage, although I don't think it's quite right as we've never gone ahead and named it. Funny thing -- I have all sorts of fun naming places in my books, but I can't quite get it right in real life.

I tried to take a pic of our guineas roosting. They look so cute, all six of them lined up on a branch in their pen, but if I get close enough to take a decent pic, they fly down looking for food.

Autumn in the countryside

'Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness' is how the poet Keats described autumn, and even though we live in the tropics and don't get the lovely colour changes of more temperate climes, we do (on the Tablelands) have the mist...

... and mellow fruitfulness... this year, in the form of macadamia nuts

and pumpkins.

I know pumpkins are only baked into sweet pies in some parts of the world, or they're called something different. We have an abundance this year and so there'll be lots of pumpkin soup. Here's a fabulous recipe from Jamie Oliver, perfect for a cold night.

Pumpkin Soup with Coconut, Chilli and Curry Spices

Ingredients Makes 3 - 4 portions

1 average sized organic Hokkaido pumpkin,cut into chunks (deseed but don't peel)

1 large potato, cut into chunks

1 medium onion, sliced

750ml chicken or vegetable stock

200ml coconut milk

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

2 heaped tsps of curry powder (or curry paste)

1 - 2 small red chillies, sliced

A little olive oil

Croutons to serve

Method

1. In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil and gently fry the onions, chilli and garlic till soft.

2. Add the pumpkin and potatoes to the pan and sprinkle with the curry powder. Fry gently for just a minute or so.

3. Pour in the coconut milk and stock, cover, then simmer gently till potatoes & pumpkin are cooked (mine took about 10 mins).

4. Allow the soup to cool down a little then pour into a blender and blend at high speed till smooth and creamy.

5. Reheat a little if necessary and serve with some fresh croutons which have been fried in a little olive oil and butter and sprinkled with herb salt.

I know I've been a slack blogger...

I blame the work in progress... yes, the painting that never ends. (That's undercoat. The room looks much nicer now, I promise)

and I blame the nonstop rain,

but at least I've handed in my revisions.

Happy Easter

I hope you're having a very happy weekend. Ours is happy enough, although it's still raining outside and we're still painting inside, (and E's not well). I can't show you our progress 'cos I left my photo converter USB in Townsville and I can't get another one till the shops open.

Meanwhile, there's plenty of chocolate -- in our case, chocolate Lindt bunnies. And aren't these painted eggs beautiful?

Off to cook bacon and eggs for breakfast.