The Book of Love

variation-of-books-in-library

Recently I had a major eureka moment. I discovered how love works. I should really keep the details to myself and write a best-seller about it. And that’s a clue as to how this discovery was made. Books. Best-sellers, biographies, histories, romances and horror stories.

I went to a charity book sale, just out of curiosity. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular but I do love books. To tell you the truth when I got there I was a bit overwhelmed; so many books, rows and rows of boxes upon boxes of books. I didn’t know where to start, so I just browsed.

I picked up a couple of books, had a look at them and then put them back. I wasn’t really interested. I picked up a book I knew a friend would love but still nothing for me.

Then I started looking seriously and methodically. I walked up one aisle and down the next looking at each box of books as I went. I found a book that I really should read, a book that would be good for me, a book that would look impressive in my bookcase.  And I chose another book that was uplifting and inspirational, I knew because it said so on the cover.

But still, nothing that excited me.

Then I saw it. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my luck. A book by my favourite author, a book I didn’t even know I was looking for until I found it. And then I knew why I’d come to the book sale. It was purely to find that book. It was fate. The book and I were meant for each other.

That’s how love works.

You don’t know what it is until you find it. You don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing and then suddenly everything becomes clear.

Occasionally you’ll find a great boyfriend for a friend while you remain single. You choose the person you think you should be with, or someone your mother thinks would be good for you, or someone whose cover looks impressive, but none of them really excite you. Plus you’ve got to sort through a lot of stuff that you don’t want first. 

But when love does arrive, it’s totally unexpected and totally wonderful.

So, when I got home did I curl up in bed with my miraculous discovery? No. I put it on the shelf and started reading the book I thought I should read because it would be good for me.

Books may be meant for the shelf but I think I still have a few things to learn about love.

Photo via Glen Noble via Visualhunt

The Best-Selling Author Who Changed My Life

A couple of years ago I wrote a book. My publisher said they wanted it and then they changed their mind. My agent at the time told me if my publisher didn’t want it then no one else would, she couldn’t sell it.

‘Write me something I can sell,’ she said.

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘Women’s fiction.’

‘Oh.’

Up until that time I’d written a novel about a sixty-something woman who was actually an energy being from another galaxy and two memoirs. I knew nothing about writing women’s fiction.

Shortly afterwards I interviewed a best-selling author. I’d interviewed her before, more than once. She’s a prolific writer. After the interview she asked me how my writing was going.

‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘My agent wants me to write women’s fiction and I’m not sure that I can.’

‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘Come to my masterclass and I will teach you how.’

‘Masterclass?’

That’s how I found out about Fiona McIntosh’s commercial fiction masterclass, the masterclass that changed my writing life. I paid the money (it’s not cheap but it’s worth it), flew to Adelaide  and spent five days having my world turned upside down. Imagine this; you’ve spent a lot of money to be at a masterclass, you arrive on the first day and are surrounded by other keen writers, you await the pearls of wisdom that are going to drop from your teacher’s mouth and the first thing she says is this:

‘Nobody cares. Nobody cares about your writing. Nobody cares about your book. The world does not need your book.’

I felt as though I’d been slapped. I was a writer. I was special. I was a published writer. I was even more special. Of course the world cared. Of course the world needed my books.

I cried, I fought, I struggled and eventually I got over myself and remembered the rest of Fiona’s opening speech. She said, ‘The less I care the better I write.’

At the time I thought, Well that’s certainly not true, she researches her books impeccably, she’s written thirty best-sellers, she cares .

It wasn’t until I was deep into my next novel and struggling with a worrisome chapter that her words made sense. This chapter had to be in the book but I didn’t know how to approach it or how to make it work. Hell, I didn’t even know where to start. Then I remembered, ‘Nobody cares.’

It was if a weight lifted from my shoulders. Nobody cares. It doesn’t matter. This book doesn’t matter. This chapter certainly doesn’t matter. The world doesn’t need this book. Nobody cares. All the stress and worry of the tricky chapter disappeared. I began to write. The words flowed. The chapter sang. And all because nobody cares, not even me. Hooray!

Fiona McIntosh’s latest book, The Chocolate Tin, has just been released and she’s touring the country to talk about it. (You might have seen her in the latest edition of the Women’s Weekly.) She and I will be having a chat at a literary lunch in Noosa on the 25th of November. You can find the details here. And yes, there will be chocolate.

If you can’t make it to Noosa details of her other events are here.

And if you want to change your writing life then you can find out about Fiona’s masterclasses here.

But no matter what you do, whether you’re a writer or not, that simple lesson of ‘nobody cares’ may change your life.

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Do The Mashed Potato

dee-dee-sharp-mashed-potato-time-columbia-2My friend Fiona was a career woman. Like a lot of my friends at the time she had a great job, plenty of money, all the perks she could possibly demand… and a part-time man.  There was an era of my life when the latest accessory for the woman who had everything was the no-commitment relationship.  Fiona called one such relationship  “Three Days”. Once a month he’d fly up from Sydney and they’d do the long weekend thing, an arrangement she was perfectly content with.  Many of my female friends longed for the perfect relationship – not true love, commitment and roses, but a man who’d leave them alone to get on with their busy lives and only be around when it was convenient.

Fiona asked me around for dinner one night, at that stage she was going out with a sailor, a Rear Admiral no less, whose home port was San Francisco. How marvellous we all thought, she has a boyfriend she only sees every 6 months, very clever.  She asked me what I’d like to eat; Thai, African, perhaps Japanese.  She was a rather put out by my reply. At the time I was working on average 14 hours a day (a relationship with a hermit living in a cave in Estonia would have been too much for me) and I wanted bangers and mash for dinner. I think the trend for good old-fashioned home cooking, like mashed potatoes, was spawned by exhausted careerists who needed to feel looked after, just for a while, before chaining themselves to the corporate juggernaut once more.

Fiona did her best with what should have been a simple task; boil potatoes until they’re falling apart, drain, add milk, lashings of butter, salt to taste, and then go to it with the potato masher. Worked for my mum every time. Unfortunately a glossy coffee table book detailing these instructions hadn’t been released and Fiona was way out of her depth.  What should have been the pinnacle of comfort food arrived on our plates as grey, lumpy soup.

Fast food, disposable music and no-commitment relationships left me feeling empty and homesick. But I didn’t have time to dwell, there was too much work to do. I was dishing out instant gratification on commercial radio, highly researched and tightly formatted for maximum monetary gain. My head was full of call-out figures, familiarity scores and burn factors, that was what music had become to me.  Slow cooked food, slow music that cooks and a slowly cooking relationship were way too inconvenient. But the day after that dinner I found time to buy a potato masher.

These days my life is a lot slower and I love it. Everything has changed. Who would have thought that the career-frazzled woman I used to be would become a happily married writer? Not me. Now I have time to think and cook  and write a book that’s coming along way too slowly. And that’s okay. Other things have changed too. The Hubby and I no longer eat mashed potatoes but have discovered the delights of mashed cauliflower and it’s just as delicious and comforting. Fast food no longer enters the building and I’m feeling well and truly committed after 12 years of marriage. But one thing hasn’t changed. I still have that potato masher.

The Famous Author Who Dressed Like a Duck

Recently a friend of mine was talking to me about a writing project she was keen to pursue. Trouble was she wasn’t sure whether to write it as a novel or a screenplay.
‘You could always do a Graeme Simsion,’ I said.
‘What did he do?’
‘He originally wrote The Rosie Project as a screenplay but couldn’t get any interest. So he wrote it as a novel and what do you know, he got a movie deal.’

Graeme Simsion is famous for the massive advance he received for The Rosie Project and fair enough too because the book sold all over the world to the tune of over a million copies. He’s also very well known thanks to Bill Gates who read the book and told the world how much he loved it. But the other thing Graeme is famous for is dressing like a duck. He only did it the once for a conference presentation (to brighten up a very dry topic) but it’s become a thing of legend.

The last time I spent time with Graeme was at The Byron Bay Writers Festival in 2013. He was dressed casually without a feather to be seen. I remember being backstage with him while he was checking his phone for the latest rankings of The Rosie Project. He was very excited to discover that his book had made the best-seller list in Italy. Ah, the joys of being a mega-selling novelist.

Since The Rosie Project’s huge success Graeme has written two more novels, The Rosie Effect and now The Best of Adam Sharp which is being released next month. This latest novel is about love, music and coming to terms with the past. Hmmm, I think I can relate to that 🙂

Recently he got in touch to suggest we do something for The Best of Adam Sharpe. Naturally, I said yes and Noosa Libraries got on board. The result is a literary lunch in Noosa on Thursday 22nd September. You can find the details here. It’s a good excuse to visit Noosa but if you can’t make it Graeme is going to be a very busy man in September with multiple appearances. Perhaps he’s going to be in your town. Here’s his schedule.

I hope to see you in Noosa but if not I’m sure we’ll bump into each other in the virtual world somewhere.

GraemeSimsionLiteraryLunchNoosa2016

How I Discovered One of Australia’s Best Selling Authors

flinders rangesA while ago I was staying with a friend at her house in the Flinders Ranges. I found it hard to understand why anyone would live there, in the driest place within the driest state on the driest continent. Unsurprisingly almost every name on the map was a ghost town. Years ago she and I shared a flat near the beach in Sydney, lots of water, lots of green. Since then I’d spent most of my time living in Queensland, lots more water, much greener. My friend’s choice of surroundings didn’t make a lot of sense to me, literally. My senses didn’t understand it. But she and her husband love the outback and within a few days the colours, the starkness and the flocks of emus began to win me over with their specific kind of beauty.

The bedroom I was staying in was upstairs in their converted church. It had a verandah that overlooked the rocks and saltbush. One of the windows was propped open by a book. I said to my friend, ‘If I find you another book to prop open the window, can I read this one?’ She laughed and said I could have it and she’d find something else to keep the window open in the hope of a breeze.

And that’s how I discovered one of Australia’s top selling authors. (That’s right I didn’t discover discover her, although I wish I had, imagine having a percentage of those royalties!)

The book was Three Wishes. The author? Liane Moriarty. Since then I’ve read just about every book she’s written. I’m saving a couple. It’s always nice to have something to look forward to.

Despite going straight to number 1 on the New York Times best-seller list, a TV series based on one of her books being made in the US by famous people, movie options and more, she’s still referred to as ‘the most successful Australian author you’ve never heard of’ in this recent article. (Worth a look for the photographs alone.)

But in case you have heard of her and, like me, love her work, Liane has released a new book and is touring to chat with people like me in a town near you. Here’s her schedule and if you’re on the Sunshine Coast, or looking for an excuse to come to the Sunshine Coast, she and I will be having a chat at the Surfair in Marcoola on Wednesday 3rd August, thanks to Sunshine Coast Libraries. You’ll need to book and all the details are here. It would be great to see you there.

So, how about you? How did you discover your favourite authors? Were their books propping open a window in the desert?

The Song That Broke The Band

There are some songs that stay with you, not just for the week that they might be on high rotation on the radio, but for a lifetime. Songs are highly emotive creatures. They plug into us for all kinds of reasons.

I was very young when I first heard this song and yet it’s stayed with me through the years.

I was reminded of the song and of the writer, Greg Quill, when I read this article about a new tribute album recorded in his honour – Some Lonesome Picker.

If you know Gypsy Queen you’ll know why it’s such a special song. If not this quote from the article might help.

Gypsy Queen is a song of the road no less than the poem Walt Whitman wrote a century earlier. It was a song about going on an adventure where your horizons would be expanded, and you’d live a larger life because of it.

But for me it has extraordinary significance. Why? This is the song that caused the demise of my band.

If you’ve read Sex, Drugs & Meditation you’ll know how devastated I was when my band broke up. The story behind the story is that we’d been playing together for years, touring and releasing CDs but we’d never really cut through. I had the idea of recording a cover version of this song, it was perfect for us with our line up and stunning harmonies. We’d never released a song written by anyone else – all originals up until that point – but I thought this song was worth it. It was such a brilliant idea that one member of the band quit. Why? Because she knew it would work, that we’d get airplay with it and therefore success and she didn’t want us to succeed. She wanted out. She wanted to pursue a solo career. And thus our band became an ex-band.

Ironically a few years later Adam Harvey recorded a cover version of this song and had a hit with it but by that time I was well ensconced in the world of radio and being a music director I got to decide what got played on radio and what didn’t.

When it comes down to it I’m grateful. If the band hadn’t broken up I never would have got into radio, I might never have started writing books instead of songs and I definitely wouldn’t have the superannuation that enabled me to retire early and have the freedom I now have – to write more books and to pick up my guitar whenever I feel like it.

And all these years later, I still love this song.

“I’m singing for the dark and lonely highway, I’m singing for the rivers and the trees, I’m singing for the country roads and byways, And I wonder as I go, Is there anyone I know, Who’ll sing for me.”