Go away!

Not telling you anything about the new novel.

It’s a secret!

If I tell you it’ll be spoiled.

Go on then, rack off!

You can just wait until it’s published.

Or for the ARC if you’re one of those lucky bastards who knows how to snaffle up ARCs.

Lucky dog.

I mean why should I tell you anything ahead of time?

How do I know you won’t steal my idea?

And write a more commercial version of it and get a six-figure advance and render my less commercial version unsaleable!

You utter utter bastard!

That settles it. I’m really really telling you nothing about me new book. You can’t be trusted!

Why are you still here?

Go away!

Can’t you read?

Are you touched in the head?

Rack off!

Do you not respect the command of an Aussie?

Oh, all right then, because you’ve been persistent I’ll give you a wee, tiny, small, smidgen of an inkling of what the new novel is about.

You ready?

Right then:

I’ve finally started writing the great Australian feminist, monkey knife-fighting, cricket, Elvis and mangosteens (lots of mangosteens) novel.

And it’s a right corker. Or at least it will be.

When I’ve finished and everything.

Did I not tell you to rack off?