This is how I wrote my book

I can't begin to explain how excited I am to hold this wad of paper in my hands, finally. Writing a novel has been a life goal of mine for a very long time. When I was a kid, when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said 'Author'. Not writer. Author. I wanted to write novels. To tell stories. That is, after I discovered that being a Vet wasn't just about cuddling animals, but touching poo and vomit (much like parenting), healing injured ones and putting some of them to sleep. 

I started writing this book ten years ago. I was in my early 30s. I had just skidded out of my 20s, bruised and battered by failed relationships, disappointment and instability. I'd been bouncing from one job and rental property to another for the best part of a decade and had finally settled down in a flat for a couple of years straight, and a job that looked like it could be a long term thing. I went overseas on my own, doing a Contiki through Europe on the cusp of my 31st birthday, when the tour guide himself was still negotiating his 20s. I came back determined to be a grown up.

In the meantime, my now husband had returned to Australia from a year long working holiday in the Canadian Alps and our paths crossed shortly after. My lease was up and my brother needed a flat mate, so I moved in with him the weekend after we met.

So, I finally found myself adulting. Living in stable accommodation, holding down a secure job and in a serious relationship. It was time to write. Then, I began this story. About a young woman, much like myself, who was living with her brother and working as a public servant. I had some ideas in mind about what I wanted her to experience. In some way, to tell my own story and reveal the themes that had guided my life to that point. I didn't have a set plan, just a bunch of thoughts and ideas and the desire to write.

I did that. On a regular basis. I would fish out my cheap laptop, turn it on, punch away at the keys, and develop a story. In fact, it was the characters I was creating. The people in my story who would come to life in my mind and embark on their own journey, sometimes seemingly separate from me.

But as is the case with being a grown up, life gets busy. My partner and I went overseas, feeling the urge to travel together before we settled down. We came home and bought our first property and got hitched. Then we started a family. Things literally snowballed. A year into our marriage we had our first child and then ten months later we conceived twins. To say things got a tad chaotic is an understatement. I suddenly found myself at home, unemployed and looking after three children under the age of two.

A short time before I gave birth to my first baby, I found out about 'Push Presents'. Apparently, people buy or are given a material incentive for giving birth. I'd never heard of this, but wanted to cash in. Side note here, I never pushed. I had two cesareans. But that's beside the point. Instead of wanting jewellery or a fleeting massage or some other pointless commodity, I told my husband that I wanted a writing class. 

Image via: catherinedeveny.com

Catherine Deveny was running her first Gunnas Writing Masterclass in Sydney for the Sydney Writers' Festival and I wanted in. Heavily pregnant, I waddled into the city and sat through a day of 'aha!' moments among my kind of people. It was the fuel I needed to resolve to finishing my book. The perfect opportunity was about to present itself, in the form of a longer than expected maternity leave. I would put the nine-to-five grind of working a day job behind me for a while, in fact much longer than I'd expected, and this gave me the time I needed to focus on finishing the book. I started to see myself as a novelist and when I found out about self publishing, it only propelled me even further forward. I realised I wouldn't have to send out a manuscript to a whole bunch of publishers and then have to sit on my hands and wait for someone to 'get me'. I could make a book myself. I would have complete control over every aspect of its design and construction and I would be able to create my own deadlines and basically own and oversee every step of the process. It was completely irresistible.

In the weeks before I had the baby, I started this blog. I found an online site that would pay me for writing articles called Lifehack.org and I pushed myself to finish my book. I made writing my full time job. Albeit mostly unpaid, but whatever. I had savings and a financially supportive partner and was in fact working harder than I'd ever worked in my life. I knew that eventually I would return to paid employment once the kids were in care and that this short time was a drop in the ocean in my working life. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I had to at least try. I'd kick myself if I didn't at least do that. 

As busy as it is having a newborn, I found the time. When the baby napped or was settled, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. It kept me sane during the days I felt isolated and motivated me when I was exhausted. When the twins came, everything was magnified again, but I did another Gunnas Masterclass - Self Publishing with Julie Postance and a further writing one with Catherine, and I became even more determined to finish what had become a project, beyond merely writing a book. In fact, the story and characters had grown so much in me, that I envisaged a second and third book and a business plan started to take shape.

While wrangling three toddlers, I pushed on with not only writing the stories, but conceiving the cover, registering a business and getting a logo designed, starting a Facebook page and website; editing, proofreading, typesetting and building the architecture of a book. It was daunting and I was riddled with doubts and insecurity, but those niggles weren't strong enough to defeat the joy and the satisfaction I got from doing it. I grew attached to the narrative, the fictional people, their lives and relationships, and the process of making a book. I worked in small increments of time, whenever I had a moment to myself or the kids were occupied with themselves. Even five minutes of writing or organising fulfilled me and gave me pleasure.

Before too long the book was finished and while it was being proofread and edited, I busied myself with the business side of things and commenced the sequel. The second book has been much easier to write in some ways. I have experience and a premise. The sequel's protagonist is a character from the first book, it reveals her back story, and the stories intersect. In other ways, different challenges have presented themselves as I can't just let the characters lead me into the story, I have to adhere to the established narrative and characterisation. In so many ways, these obstacles have made me a better and more creative writer. 

The editing process of the first book educated me about the pitfalls of writing, such as style, grammar and punctuation and I think, I hope, that I have improved. The third book is swimming around in my mind. The business end is established and I believe that it won't take me as long or be as arduous a process, in terms of creating a physical book and making it available for purchase.

All in all, I decided one day, that I was going to write a book and when I took that first step, and kept putting one foot in front of the other, eventually I got there. And looking back, it's been a huge and very satisfying learning curve.

The hardest part now, and I think what has been the most difficult all along, is sharing it. You want people to like what you do. Especially if it's an artistic pursuit. You want people to connect and to feel the things you felt when you created it. It's not about being liked or feeling good all the time or getting approval. It's about connection and you want people to have a positive and constructive response. So, for example, even if people don't like something a character says or does, you hope that it is within the context of empathising with them. The fact of the matter is that some people will like your work and others will hate it. Some will be completely indifferent. I am prepared for that. What I wish for most is that the story and the characters are interesting, believable and at least a little bit entertaining. 

More than anything though, I wrote this book because I liked writing it. I am writing the next two because I want to finish telling this story. I will keep writing because that is the one thing I do that makes me want to punch the air in jubilation. I am so lucky to say I have found that thing that makes me go 'fuck yes!'. It is something that everyone should find in their lives.

Space: Everybody Shut Up, I'm Trying To Think will be available for purchase through my website and Facebook page from February 14th 2017.

I'm Addicted to Crochet

It might seem like a strange hobby for a young woman. When I say young, I mean 40ish, which isn’t that young really, but I’ve been crocheting for years. I must have been in my late teens when I first learned and completed my first project, a granny blanket.

Crocheting is one of my favourite, if not at the top of the list, pass times. I was taught by my mum and my aunty and it is something passed along from one woman to another in my family, no doubt most families, of women who crochet, knit, stitch, sew. It is one of those oral traditions and practical skills that women just show and teach each other. Although these days, with Pinterest and super crafting websites, the abundance of materials, design and information sharing, it’s no longer just a pass time for old grannies. It’s a global art form ranging from the humble beanie to elaborate creations, like the art works of Shauna Richardson who crochets giant animal sculptures that were featured in the London Olympics. Her work is known as crochetdermy – literally crocheting life size and larger, true to life animals. 

I remember traveling through Europe in my early 30s and being completely enamoured by the lace making traditions in Venice and Malta. Those artisan crafts are at risk of disappearing and they were urging young women to take an interest, to talk to their elders about the craft and perhaps even learn, so they can pass it on to future generations. 

Lace Displays in Venice - Own Photos

Maltese lace making – Image via maltainsideout.com

     

I once attended an exhibition at the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney that showcased some incredible lace and crochet creations. From wall hangings to garments and jewellery. Even crochet inspired urban fencing! It was truly incredible.

Crocheted Tea Set – Own photo

Wall hanging - Own photo

Garments – Own photo

Jewellery – Own photo 

Crocheted fence – Own photo

I love everything about crocheting. I love buying the yarn. Here I am holidaying in New Zealand in 2010 in a yarn shop. Happy much!!!

I love the feel of the hook traveling through the soft yarn and the rhythmic repetitive knot making, which is all crochet essentially is. Over the years I practiced the basic stitches over and over until I could do it without looking and gradually learned to not only understand the combinations and designs by reading written patterns, I also taught myself to read diagrams, which are much easier and less prone to errors.

It’s easy to learn how to crochet these days. There are YouTube tutorials for everything and the simplicity of crochet, once understood, demonstrates the endless possibilities that you can create and make. From garments to dolls, blankets, homewares, bags and anything else you can come up with. And it doesn’t have to look daggy. Some of the most well known designers like Dolce and Gabbana have released crochet lines. But who would want to spend exorbitant amounts of money on a homophobic and misogynist brand when you can make shit for yourself.   

Crocheting gives me peace of mind. It is incredibly meditative and relaxing, but it isn’t mindless. There is a lot of concentration and problem solving involved. Also mathematics, logic, creativity, ingenuity, patience and generosity. Crochet is a wonderful avenue for gift giving. I love nothing more than to make something for someone else and there are many opportunities to crochet for charity; from blankets for refugees, little pouches for orphaned baby animals and tiny beanies and booties for newborns and premature babies in hospitals.

Crochet as therapy is undeniable for me. It puts me into a meditative state, regulates my breathing and distracts me from negative thoughts. It’s a great time filler and lets me surrender to a productive experience when I’m feeling idle or am procrastinating. Best of all, it keeps my mind active and alert, but at ease. There have been some suggestions that crafts like crocheting can improve the health of the mind, even preventing or delaying the onset of dementia. It can improve memory and trigger recollection of treasured events in one’s life. The book Crochet Saved My Life by Kathryn Vercillo talks about how crochet can help with depression and stress at the very least. There isn’t a lot of scientific evidence to support the health and psychological benefits of crochet. Most of the information tends to be anecdotal and comes from people’s individual experiences. My uncle told me that his mother once had a stroke and the doctors weren’t optimistic about her recovery. She was a champion level crocheter. She invented stitches and patterns in her mind and could make absolutely anything from crochet. She did absolutely beautiful work. He tells me that after her stroke, she resumed crocheting and her facial paralysis improved. In fact, she made a complete recovery and astounded her doctors. It is hard to prove if there was a link between her crocheting and her recovery, but the doctors thought it was possible. It certainly didn’t do her any harm and she lived a healthy and productive life for many more years. 

I have made so many things over the years. For myself, my friends, their babies, my babies, for raffles and for strangers. I’ve photographed most things because I part with most of them. Someday I hope to share this skill with my daughters. They watch me now, mesmerised by my hand movements and the colour of the yarn. Ok, so mostly they play with the balls of yarn like kittens and undo my rows by pulling at it, thinking it's a game, but I do see that glimmer of curiosity and they love trying on their hats and ponchos as I make them. They watch me wear my beanies and scarves and gloves and smile at all the colours of yarn in the big bucket by the lounge. When all else is just too hard, I crochet. I sit quietly and knot and knot. Mostly I make little projects that are easy to complete and give me instant gratification, but there’s nothing more satisfying than finishing a big job like a blanket. The girls have one each and I made all three while carrying them in my belly, those memories woven in every stitch.