Whirling twirling

Quite an endless twirl going on here. Though I am always thinking of the book I am being tugged this way and that. Lovely to escape the computer screen in a way, but I feel a little untrue if I am not working, and have gone and abandoned my other novel revision after finally picking up some pace.

The good news is that 'famous writer' loved the book and wrote a sparkling comment for the jacket. I won't write it here until it has been approved, but I was very very thrilled, relieved and quite emotional. Marilyn is coming to life!

So I went out and bought the latest of this famous and generous writer's novels and read it with wonder. It was in an AIRPORT BOOKSTORE. Of course this is my aim with my book. Lovely lady travellers chuckling as they await their flights. Cheeky sexy smiles as they imagine Brett in his leathers, or waif-like Estelle and Arnaud, or Fiona-from-Melbourne asking for her vibrators back. That would be the max.

As I flew about (unwell Aunty in the UK, extremely broken leg, snowed-in for three whisky days) I even thought that I could make a series of this idea: The Divorced Lady's Companion to Living in Ghana, The Divorced Lady's Companion to Living in Latvia, The Divorced Lady's Companion to Living in Australia.

What a laugh!

Have just done my first email interview with the lovely generous Miranda Dickinson whose first book Fairytale of New York was spotted on Authonomy and whose second Welcome to My World is about to come out. Miranda's blog Coffee and Roses has regular writer interviews and mine will be coming up soon!

Have also sent off the manuscript to a noted women's writer for a jacket comment - will see how that goes.

And am playing around with my cover images some more, I do like them and must work out how to insert photos here.

Time has stood still with the rain and flooding in town. Here the canals brimmed but haven't burst over. The water is finally seeping away in the fields and I have banished my image of my piano knee-high in water - awful that. I think I even played more thoughtfully this morning.

And what else from this divorcée? The obvious - a pair of bronze fur-lined chunky boots I can't wait to wear - a friend suggests I should be wearing them at the computer but how? what about The Occasion?? Although I suspect my bloke will grimace at them.

My fifteen year old daughter reluctantly gave her permission, but only as a trade-off for a new pair of jeans. How odd, my Mum never let me go near fashion but I suspect my offspring have absorbed one of the better things of this country.

the rush

I have been trying to use this internet for all it's worth - connections to other writers in this zone - and finding unexpected generosity. People actually write back! Thank you to the new viewers of the blog and do keep coming back, I feel the novel is about to burst forth.

I remember living in Mogadishu so many years ago, sent home from the embassy because I wrote a circular about pregnant local staff being sacked and nobody being paid for overtime, when I had my first short story published in Australia. ('Elton John's Mother', reprinted in Fabulous at Fifty by Pascoe Publishing) That year I spent ages on a novel while my first born kicked in a basket on the floor, then my first stories started to go somewhere - not that it was very tangible, receiving a copy and looking at it on your own in a huge sweaty house in such a ruptured country. I was always at a loss, and lacked the big push, final determination.

And now this immediacy. It's so thrilling really, if I recall carbon paper and my treasured (and stupid) electric typewriter, that first dot matrix printer that really hurt my eyes. How far have we come! How delicious is this form of communication!

Savouring

One of the finest things involved in the divorce procedure must surely be the celebration meal. You know, the final breaking bread together when all has past, when new loves and obligations are on the horizon and a type of freshness returns..
One realises that the spoils of divorce may be elegant and to be enjoyed.
No more plate-throwing and derision.
No more subterfuge and altercation.

How lovely to grow up.

And merci to the ex for the most heavenly meal on the planet. How an ex-anorexic such as moi can wax about food but perhaps the taste buds are heightened through sheer agony?

No one can touch la Peca, Lonigo. Glorious, glorious, still reeling..

Growing pains

I am stuck for a cover. Photoshop daunts me. I wander to rush outside with a model/friend and make meaningful photographs in broad city piazzas. Or along Venice's shoes. Something essential. Something that represents Marilyn's vast and hampered transformation in Italy. At times I see colours that jag against each other, snapping the reader's eyes. Simplicity. Other times I see a little more douleur, drama, a coercion I have been looking at book covers for months. Italian ones at Feltrinelli in Milan. English ones online and at the American Bookstore there too.

How to convey my message in the crispest visual terms? How not to fumble with the mumlit/chicklit graphics that are so prevalent?

Heels in Matera

Trying to put myself into gear again after the long summer escapade - finally I have brain time, silence, less chores. How can anything related to a house full of teenagers be called a holiday? I have written one story and a half, reviewed this novel around three times, kickstarted my cover ideas, and been interrupted about FIVE THOUSAND TIMES.

What about the beach? My tummy tanning? My freckle collection?

Not even a mountain hike, more like a hike with the watering can through my torn tomatoes.

Getting into gear means beginning to learn about book promotion and realising how hard other writers work (and are expected to work). I have just paid up for the Women's Fiction Festival in Matera and hope to catch a flight and cheap room. Can't wait to leave Veneto and set my eyes upon new sights. Quite scared by the idea of rubbing shoulders with a more published crowd, me being such a shy ting.

I wonder what heels to bring.

Harrowing! Trying to relearn photoshop to start work on the book cover but I've forgotten many basic tricks. It's coming back, but how tiresome! Plus I have misplaced my glasses and my piano-playing wrist is suffering terribly from all the mouse moves. But I mustn't give up. I have some great ideas and want to come up with three cover designs to see if they please. I do hope so!

Other than that school starts again soon and I am oh-so-glad. Free quiet mornings (apart from my university-bound son who hasn't yet left for Milan, nor even passed the entry exam yet) and slabs of concentration.

Now waiting to see when the novel will be launched. I am hoping April, when I will be free to move across to the UK and get peddling. In the meantime, I hope to get to the Women's Fiction Festival in Matera with a sheath of bookmarks to distribute and garner some interest. It will be my first literary festival and I haven't a clue what to expect. The englishwritersinitaly crowd seem very professional, slightly prim and very very published. Meanwhile this country bumpkin will just have to smile and sit tight. And will probably be crippled by shyness in any case!