Category Archives: New York City/USA

International Blog Against Racism Week

International Blog Against Racism Week is on again. Yay! If you’re confused about racism and race you can ask the awesome Angry Black Woman questions. She’s smart and funny and will treat you with the respect that you will, naturally, accord her. It is a brave and time consuming thing she has agreed to do.

You can find lots of links and posts here.

I was thinking of responding to Scalzi’s post about how he deals with race in his books, but Kameron Hurly has eloquently said what I was gunna say.

I’ve also decided against writing about the miscegenation bruhaha over on lj because so many smart people have covered it.

And I’m definitely not going to write about my nervousness in discussing race and racism. I see no way of doing it that doesn’t go down the white liberal guilt road, which is, frankly, deadly dull.

I would, however, like to post about my theories as to why I get asked about the race of the protagonist of the Magic or Madness trilogy (Reason Cansino) who isn’t white, but I never get asked about the race of the white characters (like Tom Yarbro). I’ve also had people complain that Reason being of Aboriginal ancestry doesn’t “add” anything to the story. As if the story should somehow be “about” her race. (Though it might not happen on account of the whole busy-ness thing—also I’m not sure I’ve sorted my thoughts out yet.)

Then there’s Tobias Buckell’s post on being (not visibly1) mixed race and how it freaks many white people. The assumption that (visibly) white people have two white parents, and that (visibly) black people have two black parents, or that a light-skinned black person has to have a white parent speaks to misapprehensions about how genes are passed on. Not to mention the cultural specificity of race. Black and white are not tidy terms, they leak.

In Australia a black person is, by and large, an indigenous person. In the US of A it usually means someone of African ancestry. In the UK I have heard people of Indian ancestry described as “black” and also as “asian”. In Australia only people from China, Japan, and Southeast Asia are called “asian”. And so it goes.

In Toure‘s review of CHARGING THE NET: A History of Blacks in Tennis From Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe to the Williams Sisters by Cecil Harris and Larryette Kyle-DeBoseof he questioned some of the inclusions and exclusions:

There are some strange choices—they barely mention two Africans now on the tour, Hicham Arazi and Younes el-Aynaoui, both from Morocco, but give several pages to the Wimbledon winner Evonne Goolagong, an Australian aborigine. Aborigines may be oppressed and darker-skinned, but does that make them black? The original Australians are no blacker than, say, Vijay Amritraj of India, who played in the ’70s and ’80s and acted opposite Roger Moore in “Octopussy.” Alas, he’s not in the book.

Today in a review of a new reality TV show set in an affluent black suburb of Los Angeles the term “white” is jokingly used to described a group of affluent black teenagers:

This leaves “Baldwin Hills” in constant danger of turning into “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” albeit with better jokes. The show avoids that fate by focusing much of its attention on the hugely charismatic Staci, the only cast member to live in the low-lying, less wealthy district known as the J’s (for “the jungle”), and her constant nemesis, Garnette, the self-possessed queen bee of the girls up the hill.

In one of the show’s main plot lines so far, Garnette, against her better judgment, invites Staci—whose sense of humor makes her popular—to a party and then watches in horror as Staci, the “party starter,” takes center stage and shows everyone how to dance. Back in the J’s with her friends, Staci is asked where she’s been and sums up the whole situation in six words: “Hanging out with the white chicks.”

Black people are often accused of being culturally “white”. Do white people ever get accused of being culturally “black”? And if so how different are the effects of those accusations? Working class whites aspiring to upper class tastes and culture are pursuing the great [insert country here] dream or at worst getting above themselves; black people are trying to be “white”.

Then there’s the Brazilians who are white in Brazil, but black and/or hispanic (even though they speak Portugese) in the US of A (sorry can’t find the link to the fabby article about this—will keep searching).

It would be comforting to think that this was all a matter of linguistics, but way too often it’s a matter of life, death, and freedom.

  1. Whatever “visibly white” means. One person’s white person is another person’s Jennifer Beals. []

Lauren Jackson

My favourite basketballer in the entire universe is Lauren Jackson, which every so often puts me in the weird position of barracking for the team she’s playing against. See, I’m a New York Liberty fan and she plays for the Seattle Storm, which very confusingly has the same colours as Australia (green and gold).

Last Sunday her team narrowly beat my team, and on the one hand, I was deeply bummed—it was so close! We almost had them!—on the other hand, damn she’s a fine fine player. And, oh, how much I love watching her play. I just prefer, you know, when she’s playing for the Opals and they’re winning the world championships.

How good is Lauren Jackson? So good that we have to triple team her:
Don't hurt Loz!
That’s Tiffany Jackson, Ashley Battle and Shamika Christon doing the honours. Go Liberty!

She’s 196cm (6ft 5in) but she can run like the wind:
Go LJ, go!

She’s so mighty that mere chairs cannot contain her:
Check those knees!

She smiles like a goddess:
Awwww!

And battles like a warrior:
Grab that ball!
That’s the Liberty’s Janel McCarville attempting to battle back.

She’s my hero:
Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi!
Cathrine Kraayeveld (obscured by the non-corrupt WNBA ref) and Shamika Christon attempt to shut the mighty Loz down.

Oh, and um, just in case you think I spent the whole game stalking LJ, I also saw this great hat:

Best hat ever!

All photos by Scott Westerfeld. Thank you, Mr Husband!

Awards

So, um, I seem to have won three awards this year. I know! I was as shocked as you. Anyways, I thought it might be fun to have a squiz at ’em. For annoying scheduling reasons I managed not to be at any of the award ceremonies so I’ve only just got my hands on two of them and have yet to see the third. It’s back home in Sydney being babysat by my parents (thanks Jan and John!).

Here’s the Susan Koppelman (thanks for accepting it for me, Brian):


Photo by Scott Westerfeld

The Norton (thanks, Eloise):


Photo by Scott Westerfeld

And the William Atheling (thanks, Sean):

William Atheling Jr. Award
Photo by Niki Bern

Contrast in awards styles, eh? I loves it!

Guests of honour

Scott and me are gunna be guests of honour at ConFusion 2008 in Detroit in January. This is the first time either one of us has ever been a guest of honour at a science fiction convention (or any con for that matter) and we are dead excited. And to add to the joy—lots of other splendid people will be there, including Mr John Scalzi who is toastmaster. What bliss he will have saying mean things about me and Scott. That bastard!

I can’t wait!

We also get to suggest panel topics. We’ve come up with a few cunning and provocative (wink, wink) ones like “Originality is Overrated” and “Science Fiction is Not Dying”, but if you guys can think of any panels you’ve seen at cons that you thought were particularly excellent, or have some ideas for panels that have never been used, let me know. It will be a lot of fun to do some that aren’t your bog standard “Women in Science Fiction” or “Fantasy versus Science Fiction” or “I’m so bored I’ll eat my own eyeballs”.

La la la! I’m going to be a guest of honour!

Sex

Certain folks are uncomfortable with books aimed at teenagers depicting them thinking about or, even worse, having sex.

Problem is many many teenagers think about sex. Quite a lot of the time. And way more of them have sex than most people are comfortable with. In the US of A a rather large percentage of teenage girls wind up pregnant. Last time I looked it was a bigger percentage than any other first world country.

Yet the US of A is the first world country most concerned about books that address these issues. More books are banned here than anywhere else in the western world. And a fair few of them are banned for “inappropriate content” which often enough boils down to sex.

This is the great dilemma of writing for teenagers: the tension between writing to reflect teenage experience or writing to be instructive and good for teenagers. I think teen books that don’t touch on sex in some way are fundamentally dishonest to the experience of being a teenager.

Afterall, even those teens who have no interest in sex are wondering why they’re not like everybody else. They’re getting hassled by their peers for not dating. Sometimes their parents are worried about them too.

Sex is inescapable. And restricting a teenager’s reading to Anne of Green Gables (which, by the way, is kind of a sexy book) and their viewing to the Disney channel is not going to stop them from thinking about it and wondering about it, but it may well keep them from useful information that could help them. And from finding books that reflect who they are.

Cause that’s one of the many fabulous things books do: reflect who we are back at us. Let us know that we’re not alone, we’re not a weirdo (or, at least, not that weird), that there are other people who look like us, think like us, and who are freaked out by the stuff that freaks us out.

The idea of sex is scary and weird and compelling and dangerous and funny—so’s the idea of becoming a grown up. There are teen books that cover almost every possible permutation of that strangeness. That is a good thing.

It seems to me that the tension I mentioned above—between writing to reflect teenage experience or writing to be instructive and good for teenagers—isn’t really a tension. Because if you write well, if you manage to reflect some teen experience and tell a compelling story—story’s key!—then odds are that the book is “good” for them and for any adult who reads it. But not good in a castor oil way. Not good in a what-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-grow kind of way.

Meg Cabot’s All American Girl: Ready or Not tackles the whole when-to-have-sex thing. It’s light and funny and I raced through it. Sarah Zarr’s Story of A Girl deals with early sex (the girl is thirteen) with a manipulative older boy (seventeen) and the consequences (she’s branded a slut by her father and everyone at school; the boy goes about his life with no ill effects). In their own way both books are powerful and moving—Cabot’s made me laugh; Zarr’s made me cry—and I wish they’d been around for me to read as a teenager.

I do believe that writers for teenagers have a special duty of care, but then I believe that for all writers: we should strive to get it right, to be honest to the emotions and experiences we’re writing about. We don’t all of us manage it all of the time, but we bloody well try.

Quessies for New Yorkers

Anyone know where I can buy preserved lemons (Morrocan style)? (Yes, I know I can get them online, but I like to shop in real life with actual people. I also know I could make ’em but I ain’t in the mood for sterilising jars.)

I’m also looking for Thai herbs like pak chii farang and pandanus leaf. And, yes, I’ve tried Chinatown. Couldn’t see ’em anywhere and no one knew what I was talking about.

And how about plain old chervil? (The places round here haven’t even heard of chervil. Is there some strange USian word for chervil I don’t know about? I googled and came up with chervil being chervil. So how come no one knows what it is?)

I’m in the East Village and am hoping not to have to travel too far to get these essentials.

In Sydney these are readily available so I’m cranky with NYC right now. I am hoping that they’re easy to find here too and it’s just that I don’t know where to find them. Otherwise I will start kicking NYC. Also pouting. Lots of pouting.

Next week

Next week the denizens of blogland what care about kids and YA literature will be interviewing many amazing writers such as Sonya Hartnett and Holly Black and Ysabeau Wilce (and, um, me). Check out the full schedule of interviews. If the smart questions I was asked are any guide I reckon they’ll be corkers.

Next week is also the annual summer American Library Association conference. I sadly will not be attending. Waaah! I went to the one in New Orleans last year (or was it the year before?) and it was just incredible. I had such a wonderful time I’d even contemplate going to the midwinter ALA conference. And youse lot know how I feel about winter.

To make me feel like I’m not entirely missing out I have a question for librarians and non-librarians alike.

For the librarians: What do you love most about your job?

For non-librarians: What do you love most about librarians and libraries?

Bloomsbury Girl

My big news is that my next two books are going to be published by Bloomsbury USA. That’s right the great Aussie cricket mangosteen monkey knife fighting fairy YA novel has found a home! Not to mention an actual title: The Ultimate Fairy Book.

I am so excited I cannot sit still. I’m bouncing as I type this. I am all over with yays!

My new editor is Melanie Cecka who is wonderful. We had a three-hour lunch last year where we learned conclusively that we are each girls after each other’s heart. Hot sauce! Mexican food! Dessert! Love of many of the same books!

The whole team at Bloomsbury are incredibly impressive and seem to be almost as excited about my book as I am about becoming a Bloomsbury girl. It’s a match made in heaven. Just take a look at some of the books they publish! I am going to be on the same list as Shannon Hale, Simmone Howell, Susan Vaught, Herbie Brennan, Phillip Reeve! What’s not to love?

Before you ask The Ultimate Fairy Book or the UFB is scheduled to be published in Fall 2008 (ie September or October of next year). I know some of you will think that is a long, long, long, way away, but I was very surprised that they’re going to publish it so soon. Most publishers have already planned their Fall 08 list and are now plannning their 2009 books. I squealed when I heard it was coming out next year. More yays!

Also being on the Fall list in the US of A (and let’s face it where else do they even have a fall1?) is a Very Big Deal. The majority of the books featured at BEA, for instance, are Fall titles.

  1. Where I come from it’s autumn. []

New York Times suckage

New York has a sports team that’s opened its season with a five game winning streak, despite not even making the playoffs last year and no longer having its best and most popular player. How many column inches has the New York Times given this remarkable performance?

Pretty much none. Unless you count the teeny tiny AP reports.

This is because the team is the New York Liberty and it’s a women’s team. The New York Times is incapable of covering women’s basketball unless it’s a profile of a male coach. Especially if that male coach is ex-NBA and coaches a non-New York team.

The New York Daily has no problem covering the Liberty nor does the New York Post. What’s it going to take for the New York Times to send a reporter down to Madison Square Garden? A perfect season? Sex-change operations for the whole team? Pigs to fly? I understand it’s a hell of a hike from the Times’s headquarters to the Garden. They’d want a really good reason to have to travel so far.

Damn your sexist moronic eyes, New York Times!! Grrrr!!!

Best T-shirt ever (updated)

On Saturday I ran into wondrous super-librarian Carlie Webber at Book Expo America (BEA). She was wearing the best T-shirt of all time. Check it out:

The Mary Sue-iest!

And how about the back:

Ha ha ha!!

I laughed and laughed.

For those who do not know what a Mary Sue is or have not read any of the Harry Potter books—where have you been?

Update: The T-shirt of greatness was created by Amy
Tenbrink of Narrate Conferences.

Sometimes basketball makes me cry

Today at the New York Liberty versus Phoenix Mercury game (we won!) the Rutger’s women’s team stood in the middle of the court during one of the breaks. We gave them a standing ovation, stamping, and clapping and yelling for them. At every timeout thereafer they were beseiged by well-wishers and autograph seekers. They may not have won last years’ finals but they definitely won the battle against racist radio announcers. Yay!

Kay Yow one of the greatest coaches of women’s basketball ever and Vivian Stringer the fabulous coach of Rutgers were also there. So was Teresa Weatherspoon the best pointguard the Liberty has ever had. All were applauded and mobbed for autographs. It made me so happy. It made everyone happy. I’m still glowing.

Somewhat relatedly, Amy Fiske says she met Michelle Timms. To which I can only say, “Oh my God! You met Timmsie! She’s a goddess!”

Also check out this article about playing women’s basketball in Russia. Incredible stuff.

Romans a clef

Maud Newton keeps raving about books I used to love as a kid. First she went back and reread East of Eden and found it just as fabby as the first time she read it thus compelling me to do the same and find the same (ah, the bliss of that book!) and now she’s talking about Somerset Maugham with whom I was OBSESSED in years seven and eight. Me and my friend Michal read all his novels and short stories we could find. It was heaven. So much melodrama! So much angst! And unlike (most) Steinbeck—so many funny bits!

My Maugham love is why I booked us into the Somerset Maugham Suite at Raffles1 for Scott’s birthday. Twas a ittle bit naughty seeing as how I didn’t know Scott’s feelings about Mr Maugham. I am so glad I did because on the writing desk of the suite we found several collections of Maugham’s essays and memoirs which I’d never read before. We spent a whole day lazing about reading his thoughts on writing, which led to much reading out loud of particularly excellent passages and then long discussions.2 Most. Relaxing. Day. Ever.

Maud mentions Somerset Maugham’s most excellent roman a clef, Cakes and Ale, which deals with London literary life in the 1920s and is deliciously catty about several writers, most notably Horace Hugh Walpole. Maugham wrote to Walpole to deny having lampooned him even though it was obviously true3. I can just see Walpole’s response: “Please!”

I now have to reread Cakes and Ale because I distinctly remember that it was the one book of his that did not impress me at thirteen. Who cares about a bunch of whingey writers? BORING!

I doubt I will have the same response now that I am a whingey writer myself. And more to the point I’m a whingey writer who hangs out with other whingey writers. This is very strange but somehow I have wound up being part of a literary circle.4 We hang out together. We talk books and writing. We read and comment on each other’s work. We bitch about each other. We are just like Maugham and co way back when.5

Oh. My. Elvis!

Which raises the question who will be the first to write the roman a clef about the YA writers scene in New York? Surely it’s time! I demand that we be satirised!6 Immediately! Hurry up!

Why is no one scribbling away?!

Do I have to do this myself?

  1. Is there any way to type those words without coming across like a wanker? Though actually those words are more wanky back home than in the US of A. When boasting that we were going to be at Raffles I discovered that nobody in America has even heard of it. Good Grief. It’s only one of the most famous hotels in the world! What on Earth do USians learn in school anyway? []
  2. I must get copies so that I can share all the good bits. He has much to say about a working writer’s life. []
  3. He admitted it after Walpole’s death. []
  4. I’m not going to link to those people because I’m jetlagged and it’s the wee hours and I’m bound to leave someone out and offend them. Or include someone and offend them. []
  5. Except not as talented. I speak for myself on that one. There will be no tickets written on this blog! []
  6. By someone other than Gawker. []

Deadly Uni***ns

I’m so stoked to be able to announce that my mate Diana Peterfreund has just gotten herself a new two-book deal and it’s for young adult books. That’s right! Diana is now one of us!

From the Publisher’s Marketplace Announcement:

    Children’s:
    Young Adult
    Author of SECRET SOCIETY GIR Diana Peterfreund’s RAMPANT, about killer uni***ns that can only be defeated by virgin descendants of Alexander the Great, and the teenage huntress whose birthright is seriously messing up her social life, to Kristin Daly at Harper Children’s, in a good deal, at auction, in a two-book deal, by Deidre Knight of The Knight Agency (NA).
    Film: Matt Snyder at CAA.

I read and ADORED the proposal and cannot WAIT to read the completed novel. Congratulations, Diana. You rule!

Top 10 Reasons Banning Books is a Bad Idea

10. It upsets the writers what wrote the books.

9. It upsets the readers what want to read the books.

8. It makes the books cry and books are very sensitive.

7. If you really want people not to read a book, banning it will have the opposite effect.

6. If the content of a book offends you there are more effective ways to deal with your offendedness. Like, you know, engaging with it. Maureen Dowd’s columns frequently drive me spare, but I don’t try to get them banned, I argue against them.

5. Besides banning books does not make them go away. Just ask Chris Crutcher.

4. Banning books might make you feel like you’re in control, but it actually screams of lack of control. You think you can control input but you can’t. Banned books have a way of being passed around mightily and promoted during banned book week and gaining a whole other life they might not otherwise have had.

3. Banning books, you know, it kind of doesn’t encourage literacy. Last time I looked literacy was a good thing that goes hand in hand with increased life expectancy, education, living standards. Little stuff like that.

2. It’s a short step from banning books to wanting to burn ’em. People who burn books, well that is not company you want to keep.

1. Book banning clashes with everything in your wardrobe. Every. Single. Thing.

Yes, we are in Paris

But I want to update you on the Bermudez Triangle liberation efforts. As I mentioned it was banned. Maureen Johnson, its wonderful author, has just posted about the campaign to get it put back on the library shelves with some truly excellent suggestions of what we can do to help.

And John Green has posted his letter protesting the banning. If you felt like doing the same thing, the email addresses are over here.

One of the librarians from Bartlesville’s public library, Beth Degeer, has also written a wonderful letter to the local newspaper.

I must dash—I’m about to have lunch with Scott and one of our wonderful French publishers.

My quick verdict on Paris thus far: Gorgeous! Yummy! Mmmmmm!

Paris, noon, 2 May 2007

Another book banned (updated)

Maureen Johnson‘s excellent and extremely clean (no sex or violence) book, The Bermudez Triangle has just been banned in a school in Bartlesville, Oklahoma because it is about (among many other things) two girls who fall in love.

A parent read it, hated it and complained, demanding it be removed from the shelves and suggested the bible as a replacement. I’m very fond of the bible myself, but it has way more sex and violence than Maureen’s book. There’s incest in the bible, people!

There’s also excellent bits like this:

“There is no longer male nor female, bond nor free, Jew nor Gentile, for we are all equal in Jesus Christ.”

—Galatians 3:28

I believe that includes homosexuals as well as heterosexuals.

If anyone who reads this is from Bartlesville, Oklahoma and cares about first amendment rights, you are in a position to be able to complain to the school and to the local newspapers. I really hope you will. Bermudez Triangle is a lovely warm book about the importance of friendship.

For the rest of us, I think now would be a really good time to invest in a copy of Maureen’s book. She’s a wonderful writer and it’s a wonderful book.

Update: Maryrose Wood eloquently explains what the first amendment means when a book is banned in the US of A.

Back in NYC (briefly)

The last ten days were bloody AWESOME. I don’t have words. I met so many wonderful librarians, writers, students, teachers, booksellers, readers, and other peoples. All the appearances went splendidly. Texas rocks! I loves it! More details soon.

I plan to blog ever day for the next ten because after that we bugger off to Paris, Singapore and then three weeks back home in Australia and blogging opportunities are probably going to be thin on the ground. I read some wonderful books that I want to tell you about. I also have some writing theories I want to share. Not to mention all the appearances I’m doing this week.

There’s been a micro kerfuffle while I was away because some commenters have strayed far off topic in some of the comment threads. While this doesn’t bother me in the slightest, it led to some folks being deluged with comment notifications. I’ve now put up an open post for those who want to chat about whatever. Enjoy! If folks enjoy it, I’ll put up more open posts in the future.

While I was in Texas, my good friend Cassandra Clare hit The New York Times bestseller list with her wonderful and completely unputdownable novel, City of Bones—it’s right next to Scott’s Specials! She’s now been on the list for two weeks! Woo hoo!!!! Go Cassie! Go Cassie! Go Cassie!

Me, I’m going to sleep in my very own bed. Joy!

I will be brief

We are in San Antonio. The river walk is fun. We have tickets to the San Antonio v Sacramento game tonight. I went to Little’s Boots to get fitted for custom-made boots. It was awesome. The Littles are good people. David Little even drove us back to our hotel. I will get my boots in six months. I cannot wait.

The hotel is lovely. We have a balcony. There is free wifi in the lobby but not in our room. I have yet to hang out with any librarians or writers.

In other news it is warm. I do not need a coat or a scarf or gloves. I love San Antonio.

How’re y’all doing?

Happy, happy

Australia just thrashed England in their Super Eight match. They barely broke a sweat doing it. Ha ha!

I discovered this lovely review of the Magic or Madness trilogy by a future librarian. It’s pretty spoiler free if you want a squizz. I really liked this bit:

The magical abilities are also not what one expects—Reason has an amazing aptitude for math and patterns. Her friend Tom can create magical clothing, and Jay-Tee’s magic is in movement—like running and dancing. (None of this, ooh-look-at-me-I can-fly-or-read-minds . . . etc.)

I did that on purpose! And someone noticed! Woo hoo!

Also Scott just read me the almost last bit of Extras and it is good! So. Very. Good.

And on Tuesday we fly to San Antonio where it is much much warmer than NYC and there are many cool librarians and young adult writers for us to hang with. Happiness!

It’s snowing

What is wrong with this benighted country? It’s snowing! It’s April. Spring in this poxy hemisphere. It’s warmer back home in Sydney where it’s Autumn. I hates it! Snow!!! Aaaargghh!!!!!!

In other news John Green is silly with his friends over here. I knew they didn’t get any actual writing done when they got together. Now there’s proof.

I’m interviewed by E. Lockhart and reveal that I cannot write song lyrics.

And, um, it’s still snowing. I’m going back to bed. Wake me when the snow’s gone.

Norton nominee interviews

John Joseph Adams doesn’t quite have the full set (that would be Scott who’s not done his bit—he’s too busy writing Extras) but here are his interviews with the other Norton nominees:

I finally took a break from inhaling manga to inhale Susan Beth Pfeffer’s Life as we knew it. Wow. I’ll admit I’m fond of post-apocalypse books to start with, but this is a decidely superior example. I read it in one sitting. Could not put it down. Go forth and read! My only complaint: It’d be nice to read one post-apocylpse where New York City and Sydney were not wiped off the face of the earth. Is that too much to ask?

If I were a SFWA member my head would be exploding trying to figure out which book to vote for. They’re all so good (take it as read that I’m not talking about Magic or Madness). Devilish and Peeps are so funny, Touching Darkness so scary and Life as we knew it made me cry.

But I’m still leaning towards Megan Whalen Turner’s King of Attolia. That trilogy is breath-takingly fabulous. I’ve read the first two books, The Thief and Queen of Attolia, many times and King twice. They get better with every read. I hug them to my chest. I honestly can’t think of a better fantasy trilogy. I really hope it wins.

I am a foreignor

This morning at brunch we were subjected to dread awful music played too loudly.1 A whole CD’s worth.

“What is this crap?” I asked. “I’ve never heard it before. I hope never to hear it again.”

Scott looked at me like I was deranged. “You’ve never heard this before?”

I affirmed that I had not and was grateful that was the case. He continued to doubt me, asserting that the band had been huge in the eighties, and unless I grew up under a rock I could not have avoided hearing them.

“What band is it?” I asked. Scott looked blank and waved his hands around. “You know, one of those one-word bands from the eighties. Like Kansas or Toto or Berlin.”

We asked one of the waitrons who told us it was Foreigner Journey. She also expressed amazement that i did not know the band.

“She’s Australian,” Scott pointed out.

“So you like Abba then,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

I admitted as how that was true. “But people who don’t like Abba don’t like sunshine or mangosteens or freedom.”

“I hate Abba,” she said.

“You hate Swedes then,” I replied. “Swedish people are all about Abba and sunshine and mangosteens and freedom.”

“Oh no, I love Swedes! My girlfriend is Swedish,” she said clearing away our plates. “She plays Abba all the time. Ack!”

“You’ve really never heard Journey or Foreigner or Toto or Kansas before?” Scott asked.

I shook my head.

“What a blessed life you Australians lead.”

So, my Aussie readers, is my lack of knowledge of those one-word American bands from the eighties an aberration? Am I the only Aussie who doesn’t know them?

I’ve never listened to commercial radio. Maybe while I was listening to Triple J and 2SER and the other ABC radio stations, those bands were on high rotation on 2SM or 2MMM or somewhere like that. But I did watch Countdown and don’t remember seeing those bands there either. And I just flipped around these charts and couldn’t see them listed anywhere. But I was pretty cursory about it.

Do you Aussies know these bands? Were they as popular back home as they were here in the US of A? Seriously, everyone in the restaurants was playing air guitar and mouthing the lyrics. It was terrifying!

Help me out!

  1. How loudly? It was audible. That was too loud. []

National character

Shashi Tharoor has written a wry op ed piece for the New York Times on the World Cup and how Americans are oblivious to what is preoccupying a billion plus folks at the moment. It ends thus:

In any event, nothing about cricket seems suited to the American national character: its rich complexity, the infinite possibilities that could occur with each delivery of the ball, the dozen different ways of getting out, are all patterned for a society of endless forms and varieties, not of a homogenized McWorld. They are rather like Indian classical music, in which the basic laws are laid down but the performer then improvises gloriously, unshackled by anything so mundane as a written score.

Cricket is better suited to a country like India, where a majority of the population still consults astrologers and believes in the capricious influence of the planets — so they can well appreciate a sport in which, even more than in baseball, an ill-timed cloudburst, a badly prepared pitch, a lost toss of the coin at the start of a match or the sun in the eyes of a fielder can transform the outcome of a game. Even the possibility that five tense, hotly contested, occasionally meandering days of cricketing could still end in a draw seems derived from ancient Indian philosophy, which accepts profoundly that in life the journey is as important as the destination. Not exactly the American Dream.

Ha ha! That makes me giggle. Though to be honest I’m not convinced. Cricket’s popularity in India and elsewhere is an historical accident. If in the early days of cricket in America they’d had some home-grown cricketing heroes demolishing visiting English players and some ambitious entrepreneurs touring the game around the country and bringing in the dosh I reckon things woulda turned out differently.

Cricket’s also bloody popular back home. I’m pretty sure the majority of Australians don’t consult astrologers or believe in the capricious influence of planets (of pollies? yes, but planets? not so much). Or certainly we don’t do it any more than Americans do.

I’m always suspicious of sketches of “national character”. I’m not saying there aren’t difference between nations. I’m often amazed by the extraordinary confidence of the middle and upper classes in the US, especially the white folk. So many of them seem to have this sense of the inevitability of their own success (whether it’s happened yet or not). I’ve never met so many people who are just waiting for their first million, their first broadway show, big movie role, bestselling novel. No question in their mind that it will happen. Even if they’ve never acted or ever written anything longer than a limerick.

But I’ve also met enough Americans who are not like that, and Australians who are, to be wary of typing a whole people. People are complicated and large groups of them even more so and you can never discount regional and class and racial and gender differences.

I also wonder how much of that disturbing confidence is real and how much of it is people saying what they think they’re supposed to be saying.

Back home you’re emphatically not supposed to say stuff like that. If you do you’re a wanker who writes tickets on yourself. Being up yourself is one of the worst things anyone can say about you.

Here that attitude doesn’t seem nearly so wide spread. For instance American English has no home-grown synonyms (that I’ve heard) for “writing tickets” “being stuck up”, “getting above yourself”, “being up yourself”, or “being a wanker”. Mostly because they almost never accuse anyone of that kind of behaviour. Nor do they have the terms “tall poppies” or “cultural cringe”.

So while it might be true that on the whole Americans=confident and Australians=not confident. It could also be that we just know what we are and aren’t allowed to say out loud. If an Aussie says “I’m a genius!” odds are they’re being sarcastic. If a Usian says it not so much. But does the Aussie secretly think they are a genius while the Usian secretly fears they are not?

There are, of course, lots of exceptions to all of this. And things are changing in both countries. I even know Americans who adore cricket.


And, um, did I mention that I have a new book out, Magic’s Child? And, er, it’s not too foul. Really. Well, um, other people think it’s okay. Sorry. Don’t mind me. I’ll get out of your way now . . .

My very first online ad & other matters

For the next month, there’s an ad for Magic’s Child up on Locus online. Tis my very first one and I’m dead excited. Ordinarily, I can’t stand ads but somehow it’s different when it’s an ad for one of my books. That makes me want to pat it and sing it songs. Lovely, lovely ad. Designed by the fabulous Courtney Wood who also made those beautiful screensavers which you can now download from the links in the sidebar.

There is now a cover for the Science Fiction Book Club’s 3-in-1 version of my trilogy. It’s called The Magic or of Reason.

In other vainglorious news, the Hathor Legacy likes Daughters of Earth, describing it as the “perfect marriage of fantastic stories and excellent critical analysis”. Yay! That’s what I was going for.

And to stop skiting for a second, wouldn’t it be great if this happened? An ODI series between India and Australia right here in NYC? I could bring all my USian friends what want to learn about the noble game and convert them to the glories of cricket in their own country. Bliss!

Also this could be the day Magic’s Child is released into the wild. i await reports. Remember there is a prize for the first person to send me photographic evidence that my latest book exists and it may not be as crappy as I said.

An appearance + prize

If you’re around the fair city of New York in the Manhattan vicinity on Saturday, you might consider wending your way to the fabulous Books of Wonder children’s book shop where me and some other writers for teens will be talking about our stuff. We will even sign books for those who desire it:

Saturday, 24 March 2007, Noon to 2PM
Great Teen Reads
Lisa Barnham, Olivia Birdsall, Celeste Conway,
Justine Larbalestier, Lauren Myracle and Margo Rabb
Books of Wonder
18 W. 18th St
New York, NY

I met Olivia Birdsall last night (thanks for putting us in touch, Kelly!) and I can vouch that she is decidely witty. I have never met Lauren Myracle but her wit is legendary and New York Times bestselling certified! And I’m sure Lisa, Celeste and Margo are also wit personified. You would be crazy to miss this appearance.

I’m now hearing that Magic’s Child is actually out on Thursday. First person to spot it in a shop and send me photographic evidence wins a prize. It may be a crappy prize, but it will be a prize!

Accents

Enough of you have been asking me what accents I think are sexy that I figured I’d best respond. My answer:

None.

There is no accent in the world that’s intrinsically sexy.

When I was little I thought Southern USian accents were sexy. Then I met more people from down there, travelled to Texas, North Carolina, Florida and Louisiana and heard many decidely unsexy voiced Southerners. Turned out I just thought Elvis’ voice is sexy. Which it is. But his accent is neither here nor there. He’d’ve had a sexy voice no matter where he lived.

Same for Clive Owen, Denzel Washington, Charlotte Rampling, John Clarke,1 Lauren Bacall and Grace Jones. It ain’t their accents—it’s their voices.

Being into accents is being into the other, having a yen for someone cause they’re not from round here. Nobody ever told me I had a sexy accent until I was many thousands of ks from home.

To sum up: voices sexy not accents.

And, um, Magic’s Child pubs on Friday.

  1. And a few more because I love Messers Clarke & Dawe so much. []

I have a theory

Every single USian woman I have ever known finds English accents unbelievably sexy. No matter that there are gazillions of different English accents, they think they’re all sexy: Yorkshire, Chav, Geordie, Sloane Ranger, cockney—they don’t care. If an English person speaks they are ipso facto sexy. There is not a USian woman on the planet who does not hold this view.

As an Australian it is difficult for me to express my extreme horror so I will not bother. My true compatriots understand. Enough said.

But how is it possible for every woman of one nation to hold such an insane belief?

I have a theory.

The British tourist authorities have been secretly brainwashing USian women. And I suspect they’ve done it by implanting a tiny chip that emits brainwashing English-accents-are-sexy rays in every copy of Pride and Prejudice and every Hugh Grant movie.

I believe the folks responsible for attempting to convince the rest of the world of the existence of “Cool Britannia” (as if!) are capable of anything.1

So USian women quit reading, watching or thinking about Pride and Prejudice and Hugh Grant. Let your ears hear unhindered. The way Tony Blair talks? Not sexy. David Beckham? Not even close. The Prince of Wales? Aarrghh!!!

In the meantime we unbrainwashed folk have to learn compassion for those so afflicted. Especially for those whose brain damage has led them into unfortunate relationships. They know not what they do.

  1. Or it could be bunnies. You know, cause they’re not cute like everybody supposes. []

Getting paid, or, don’t quit your day job

I promised some friends that I wouldn’t blog about the business of writing for a while and I haven’t in ages so, um, you two? Avert your eyes.

Recently some dear friends of mine sold books for the very first time. A small round of applause for their hard work and good fortune! Yay, them!

And as you do (and as I did) they’ve started planning how to spend their advance money (such that it is). They were suffering from the missaprehension that they would be seeing the money sometime soon. I disabused them.

Now I would like to disabuse you.

Before I begin two things:

    1. I’m only talking about publishing payment practices in the US of A and I’m only talking about mine and my friends’ experiences of them. I have never worked in publishing. I’d be grateful and interested to hear about varying experiences both here and in the rest of the world. And I’d love to hear from those who pay as well as those who receive.

    2. I suspect some of you are hazy on what exactly an advance is. (I was.) An advance is a sum of money that is paid (or advanced) to a writer by a publisher against the future earnings of a book. So when a writer is made an offer of money for their book that offer is an advance.

    I sold my first book (not a novel) to Wesleyan University Press for US$1,000. I got to keep that money no matter what happened, but I didn’t get any more dosh from Wesleyan until the royalties (a percentage of each book sold, can vary from 5% to 12% depending on format) on the book exceeded the $1,000 needed to pay Wesleyan back.

Here’s what happens when you sell a book:

A choir of angels sing and fairy dust descends from the air

Once you have accepted an offer on your book the nitty gritty of the contract must be negotiated. This is tricky to do and involves things like “escalation clauses” and “sub-rights” and is why it’s a stupendously excellent idea to have an agent do it for you. Believe me they earn their 15%.

How long that process takes depends on whether your agent already has a specific pre-negotiated contract with the publishing house or not. When I negotiated my contract with Penguin USA for the Magic or Madness books it didn’t take very long because I had no idea what I was doing and said yes to pretty much everything. Ah, the perils of negotiating a contract agent-less.

Once that’s done the contract has to be drawn up. How long that takes depends on the publishing house. Once it’s done your agent checks it. Believe it or not, sometimes there are things in the contract that shouldn’t be there, items that have specifically been negotiated out. This is another reason it’s such a great idea to have an agent.

One of the items specified in the contract is not just how much you will be paid, but how you will be paid. Typically (but definitely not always) your advance is split into thirds. The first third you get upon signing the contract, the second upon delivery and acceptance of your manuscript, and the third upon publication.

If you have a three-book deal of say $15,000 a book1 your total advance is $45,000. Thus you get $15,000 up front as the third on signing because you are signing for all three books. Then you get another $5,000 when the first book is delivered and accepted because that is a third of the $15,000 advance for that book. Then another $5,000 on the publication of the first book. And so on for the second and third book. Your $45,000 winds up being spread over at least three years, but sometimes more than four or five. This depends on how long before your first book is published.

Back to the contract:

Once your agent approves it, you sign it, and the contract is returned to the publishing house where the department that handles payments issues a cheque. I have seen the gap between signing the contract and receiving the cheque be anywhere between two weeks and a year. Any of you had a quicker turnaround? Slower?

The gap between accepting the offer and the contract being offered can also be many weeks. So it’s not only possible but usual for it to take at least six weeks between the intial offer and your cheque showing up. And, frankly, six weeks is fast.

And remember that’s just the first third. The other two thirds will come to you in third of a third parcels over the next few years. It means that your writing earnings could well look like this (minus your agent’s 15% which I haven’t taken out on account of my mathematical ability is not up to it):

2007: $20,000 (payment on signing, delivery & acceptance of 1st book)
2008: $10,000 (publication of 1st, delivery & acceptance of 2nd)
2009: $10,000 (publication of 2nd, delivery & acceptance of 3rd)
2010: $5,000 (publication of 3nd)

It will especially look like this if, like me, you didn’t know enough to make sure that your three-book deal wasn’t joint accounted. I sold my trilogy in 2003 and although the first two books have already earned out their advances I have not seen any royalties. Nor will I until the third book earns out as well. That’s what joint accounted means: The accounting for all three books is tied together.

It’s also increasingly unusual for a book to come out that quickly. I have several friends who sold books last year that aren’t scheduled for publication until 2009 (or in one case 2010). In which case their spread could look like this:

2006: $20,000 (payment on signing, delivery & acceptance of 1st book)
2007: $5,000 (delivery & acceptance of 2nd)
2008: $5,000 (delivery & acceptance of 3rd)
2009: $5,000 (publication of 1st)
2010: $5,000 (publication of 2nd)
2011: $5,000 (publication of 3rd)

Obviously living on $5,000 a year is tricky. Most full-time writers I know are getting bigger advances than that, or writing more than one book a year, or doing other kinds of writing, or all of the above. Scalzi did a recent breakdown of his fiction writing earnings over the past few years.

The more salient point: Most writers I know have a day job.

Each one of those payments comes less quickly than you think it will. I naively thought that my payment on delivery & acceptance of my first book would come automatically as soon as my editor had accepted the manuscript. It did not come until I asked for it. Or rather several weeks after asking.

This is not unique to publishing. It is, in fact, the lot of the freelancer: No matter who you work for, no matter what the industry, the gap between doing the work and getting paid is a LOT longer than we freelancers would like.

Hope this has been helpful.

Do please fill the comments thread with criticisms, questions and accounts of how it works in other places. I’m all ears. (Or, you know, eyes. Whatever!)

  1. That’s an above average advance for most genres I know about. I chose it because it’s easier to do the maths with an advance of $15,000. []

Readings and 500th post

Next week there are three readings in Manhattan that you all need to get to:

Tuesday, 6 March, 7PM (Doors open 6:30 PM)
Andrea Kail and Lauren McLaughlin
will be reading as part of The New York Review of Science Fiction Readings
Admission is free but if you want to support the series a $5 donation would be lovely
South Street Seaport Museum’s Melville Gallery
213 Water Street (near Beekman)

I don’t know Andrea Kail’s work but she shares a background in film and TV with Lauren and sounds most interesting indeed. Lauren’s work I do know. She’s awesome and her book Cycler is hilarious. It’s about a girl who turns into a boy once a month. It comes out from Random House in 2008 so this is your chance to say you knew all about Lauren way back when. Cycler‘s going to be a hit.

Wednesday, 7 March, 6-8PM
Me and these other fabulous YA authors will be reading our little hearts out:
Eireann Corrigan (Ordinary Ghosts)
Erin Downing (Prom Crashers)
Leslie Margolis (Price of Admission)
Justine Larbalestier (Magic’s Child)
Maryrose Wood (Why I Let My Hair Grow Out)
Daniel Ehrenhaft and Adrienne Maria Vrettos (reading from the 21 Proms anthology)
Tompkins Square branch
New York Public Library
331 E. 10th Street (cnr of Ave B)

That is a mighty fabulous lineup. How could you not venure out into the cold to see us? Also I may be handing out Magic or Madness trilogy bookmarks. If I remember to bring them that is. Are you sure you can go through life without such a bookmark? I didn’t think so.

Thursday, 8 March, 7-8:30PM
A reading and discussion with Yvette Christiansë author of Unconfessed.
A book signing reception will follow.
Labyrinth Books
536 West 112th Street
between Broadway and Amsterdam

I’ve spoken about Yvette’s work before. So I will be brief: She’s a genius. You do not want to miss this!

So that’s what I’ll be doing this week. I hope I get to see some of you lot at one of these events. I’ll be the one complaining about the cold.

Also this is my 500th post on this blog. Not bad, eh? If only writing novels were as easy as blogging . . . Here’s to another 500 posts!


PS My friend says many thanks for all the audio book suggestions. Do keep them coming.

Two excellent things

1. I am now officially an award-winning author. Sort of.

Daughters of Earth just won the Susan Koppelman Award for Best Anthology, Multi-Authored, or Edited book in Feminist Studies in Popular Culture which is given by the Popular Culture Association. How cool is that? No book of mine has ever won an award before.

As I didn’t write Daughters—other than the introduction anyways—I’m not sure this qualifies me as an award-winning author. I guess what I am is the editor of an award-winning book. I sure did put a lot of work into it and so did all the contributors. We’re very proud and thrilled that someone else likes it well enough to give it a prize. Woo hoo!

Thank you so much Brian Attebery, Joan Donawerth, L Timmel Duchamp, Andrea Hairston, Joan Haran, Cathy Hawkins, Veronica Hollinger, Josh Lukin, Mary E. Papke, Wendy Pearson, and Lisa Yaszek for writing such fabulous essays. What a fabulous bunch1 of scholars!

2. A bunch of us Young Adult writer types will be doing a reading next Wednesday:

Eireann Corrigan (Ordinary Ghosts)
Erin Downing (Prom Crashers)
Justine Larbalestier (Magic’s Child)
Leslie Margolis (Price of Admission)
Maryrose Wood (Why I Let My Hair Grow Out)
Daniel Ehrenhaft and Adrienne Maria Vrettos (reading from the 21 Proms anthology)
Wednesday, 7 March, 6-8PM
Tompkins Square branch
New York Public Library
331 E. 10th Street (cnr of Ave B)

Hope you New York types will be able to join us. Tis quite the lineup.

  1. What should the collective noun for a group of scholars be? A folio of scholars? A vellum? Footnote? A tenure? (Though that’s harsh on those without and the independent scholars.) A reference? []

What I did over the weekend

The short version of the past three days:

  • The Humble Teen Lit Festival was unbelievably wonderful and run by the awesomest group of librarians and teachers ever. Thanks for taking such great care of me, Dawn!
  • The Humble students and the other folks who showed up were smart and receptive and asked lots of questions I hadn’t been asked before. Fabulous!
  • My old man is insanely popular. I mean I knew he was popular, but I didn’t realise he was that popular. I thought I was going to burst I was so proud of him. You shoulda seen his signing queue! Around the block! Mental!
  • Scott’s family are lovely. Catching up with Uncle Ronnie the principal (and wow do his students love him) and Jackie and Ken would have made the trip totally worthwhile without the added bonus of Teen Lit Festival.
  • All writers obsess about their character’s shrugging or smiling or raising eyebrows too much.
  • Apparently there are two airports in Houston. Ooops.
  • Getting from one to the other is a seventy dollar cab ride.
  • Way too many of you lot are deeply deluded about vampires. It saddens me.
  • None of you knows about Scott Pilgrim?! This causes me great pain. Go out and read the three volumes immediately! That’s an order.
  • Although I feared three days without my computer it turned out to be way more of a blessing than a curse. I may now take a couple of days off from its evil thrall once a week. Or monthly. Or possibly every six months . . .
  • It was still lovely to come home to all your mail and comments here. Bless!

And now I go pass out. While being other places is wondrousness, getting to and from them is increasingly horrible. It took us fourteen hours to get from Houston to NYC. That’s how long it takes to get from LA to Sydney . . . That ain’t right.

Zombies, unicorns, scrotum (updated)

What have I started? Arguments about the relative merits of zombies and unicorns rage across the intramanets. And on each thread someone suggests the zombie-unicorn hybrid. Great minds think alike? Or fools seldom differ?

I was greatly distressed that lovely friends of mine like Holly Black, Cecil Castellucci, Meg McCarron and Literaticat have fallen pray to the false glittery charms of unicorns despite the fact that being virgin fascists unicorns would have nothing to do with them. I guess it falls into the whole desiring-what-you-can’t-have camp. Perhaps to resolve our issues Holly and I should collaborate on a Zombies vesus Unicorns novel? I will write the zombies and she can have the unicorns. Though I’m not sure how well that will work given that she won’t read about zombies and I won’t read about unicorns.

Some school librarians are saying that they won’t have Susan Patron’s Newbery Award-winning novel, THE HIGHER POWER OF LUCKY, in their library because it contains the word “scrotum” (in reference to a dog). Apparently “scrotum” is an offensive word. I had no idea. I thought it was an anatomical term for a part of the male body. I’ve never heard anyone use it as a swear word and I come from a swearing people.

The New York Times also covers the story but seems to think that authors sneak words like “scrotum” into their novels solely to offend.1 Um, what now? Rosemary Graham responds eloquently to the extremely unbalanced Times coverage. The best reporting on the whole story can be found at Publishers Weekly which points out the role Jordan Sonnenblick and Asif! had in drawing attention to it.

I write novels to tell the best stories I can for teenagers. I try very hard to write characters who are believeable and I choose the language they use accordingly. I do not set out to offend anyone. I’m sorry when that happens, but I’m not going to write less believable stories in order not to offend people. That leads to the worst possible kind of censorship: When you start second-guessing yourself. Can I use the word “pom”? No, that will offend English people. Can I use the word “pink”? No, that will offend pink-haters (and possibly also pink-lovers). How about “jasmine”? No, Margo Lanagan will come gunning for me. When does it end?

Librarians and school librarians in particular have an incredibly hard job. I admire them tremendously. I just wish we were living in a world where people’s response to being offended was to talk about why, to explain the history and context of the word, and how that has made it offensive to them, rather than trying to wipe the books that contain the word off the face of the earth. I mean I am not advocating banning books about unicorns. I just won’t blurb them.

As soon as it is warm enough to go outside I’m off to buy a copy of The Higher Power of Lucky from my local children’s bookshop.

Update: Scott adds his two cents’ worth.

  1. For the record, if concerned adults can find the naughty words we wicked authors sneak into our books then we clearly haven’t been sneaky enough. []

Maureen Dowd Makes Me Cranky

I am cranky. Two main things are contributing to this state.

1. As some of you may have noticed my site has been down on and off today. Grrr. Also for the last two days my email has been mostly down. Double Grr.

2. Maureen Dowd.

To try and uncranky myself I sat down to read today’s New York Times. I carefully skipped the newsy parts cause they often cause crankiness to multiply. Unfortunately, the first thing I read was Maureen Dowd’s breathtakingly stupid column about chicklit.

Bloody hell! What a morass of ignorance and misinformation. On the one hand, she’s trying to say that all chick lit sucks. On the other, she talks about books like Sylvia Plath’s The Belljar and Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet being rebranded in pink. Presumably, she does not think those texts are worthless.

As it happens many books are billed as chicklit that are not, and some that are, well, they’re very bloody good (Love Walked In for instance).

Dowd starts by talking about chicklit’s invasion of the serious adult literature shelves (Heels over Hemingway! Run for the hills!). But the only text she quotes is a young adult title, Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging. Of course it sounds young! Its protag is a teenager! It was written for the twelve years old and up market. It’s also bloody funny. But Dowd is too pure of mind to have noticed. Sloppy journalism much?

And then there’s this:

Giving the books an even more interchangeable feeling is the bacholerette party of log-rolling blurbs by chick-lit authors. Jennifer Good in Bed Weiner blurbs Sarah Mlynowski’s Me vs Me and Karen McCullah Lutz’s The Bachelorette Party. Lauren Weisberger blurbs Emily Something Borrowed Giffin.

Stop the bleeding presses. Someone in the same genre is blurbing someone else in the same genre? Oh. My. God. It must be stopped.

But wait! Here is the back of a Peter Carey book. He is blurbed by Salman Rushdie. They both write mainstream literature that gets reviewed and lauded by the NYT. They know each other! Another freaking conspiracy.

Hmm, I wonder why the publishing industry would do something so bizarre as have people in the same genre blurb each other? Could it be because folks who’ve read Jennifer Weiner are the folks likely to enjoy Sarah Mlynowski? And those who love Salman Rushdie may well get into Peter Carey? No, that can’t be it.

Here are my questions:

Why the endless deriding of this genre? Why aren’t there people getting het up about the pernicious influence of techno thrillers? Some of those are shockingly written, but I’ve never seen a columnist lose any sleep over how well those books sell, or the fact that they’re mostly written and read by men. In all genres there are many badly written books. Including mainstream literature. What makes chicklit so evil?

Also how come it counts as journalism to walk around a bookshop mouthing off ignorantly about a genre you know nothing about, grabbing three dozen of them to take home, flip through, and then mock in your newspaper column?

Why did it not occur to Dowd to interview some of the writers, editors, publishers and consumers of the genre? Or to ask them what their faves are and why? Too much hard work for you, Ms Dowd?

Why does Dowd not explain exactly what’s wrong with the existence of chicklit? I mean, seriously, what is the point of her column? Why is she so threatened by the colour pink?

Okay, that didn’t help. I’m still cranky.

I’ll be stomping off out of your way now.

Cold

I have been whingeing more than somewhat about the cold since we landed in NYC. As I type this it’s -9 (15.7F) outside and the winds are howling. Both of which strikes me as just plain wrong.

But rather than focuss on the utter misery and horror of it, I’m trying to think of some positives. Like, um, er, ah, um, . . . Okay, I got nothing. I can think of nothing good about weather this cold.

Can any of you help me? Do any of you like the cold? See something positive about it? Do please share. Because I haven’t left the flat since Friday and I’m kind of not planning to until we get to June and warmth.

Give me a reason to go outside. A good reason.

Hollywood sucks: a rant

On the plane from Sydney to NYC, I watched a lot of films and most of them were awful. Especially The Departed. Once again, I sat there, jaw dropping, thinking this is what racks up gazillions of award nominations? What are they seeing that I am not? Am I the only one who cares that no one’s motivations make any sense? That there are plot holes so deep and wide you could ride all the world’s horses through them?

Warning: Spoilers follow.

Not that you will care within about ten minutes of the film starting. Frankly I was hoping they would all die. It was the only way in which the film gratified my wishes.

Like why would you, on finally (at long bloody last) figuring out who the bad guy is, go arrest him yourself? Why would you not take the ample evidence you had straight to the authorities? Or at least go arrest him with lots of back up? Why do female psychiatrists in Hollywood movies have absolutely no ethics and sleep with their patients within seconds of meeting them? And why are they not in the slightest bit conflicted by this?

(Side questions: Why did all the white lead males under forty look and talk exactly like one another? I could not tell them apart!)

There were no real people in The Departed. Not one. Maybe that’s what the title really refers to: the departure of charcterisation and coherent plot. None of them had families. None of them had remotely believable pasts. They only existed—and that barely—for the duration of the movie. It wasn’t a movie. It was a shell of a simulacrum of an impression of the photocopy of an idea of a movie.

There’s a reason films and television like this spawn no fanfic. There’s no there there for fans to run and play with. Everything is cardboard. Shiny cardboard with way-too-white teeth.

I also saw Miami Vice which was just as ludicrous. Colin Farrell wins my award for worst American accent ever. But at least it was cheerfully and colourfully stupid and way more stuff blew up.

If I hadn’t seen Pan’s Labyrinth and The Queen recently I’d be concluding that all movies suck. (You know, just like all those folks who conclude that all YA sucks after reading one Gossip Girl book.) But wait a second. They’re not Hollywood films, are they?

Why does Hollywood keep spending gazillions of dollars making so-called A grade movies that make no sense at all, are badly written, cliche ridden, and boring, and why does it keep giving such train wrecks a gold statue with no penis? I’m looking at you, Crash.

I can’t remember the last time I genuinely enjoyed a Hollywood A grade prestige flick. Quite frankly I’ve reached the point where I will never spend money on such movies again. Bugger ’em. I’ll stick to the much-better B grade and independent and non-USian films from now on. Some of them will suck too, but not in the same glossy, vampiric, scary simulacra way that the Hollywood monstrosities do. A pox on the lot of them and their shiny interchangeable stars.

Gah!

RW6: Sydney and New York

Orangedragonfly wants to know

When you are in sydney, what do you miss most about new york?

and (of course) when you are in new york, what do you miss most about sydney?

My answer is much the same for both questions: above everything else I miss my family and my friends. My parents live in Sydney so when I’m there I don’t miss them, but I do miss my sister who lives in Los Angeles. So I miss her and my parents when I’m in New York.

I mentioned in an earlier post that no matter where I am I’m always missing someone. That’s pretty much a definition of what it is to be human. Even the most stay-at-home types have friends and family who have moved away. And people we love die. We’re always missing them as well.

I’ve yet to get truly homesick for New York City, the way I do for Sydney. When I’m not in the big apple it’s pretty much out of sight, out of mind (except my friends, natch!). But sometimes my homesickness for Sydney is a physical ache. I long for the smell of it. Truly, Sydney is one of the best smelling cities I’ve ever known. I miss the light and the big skies. I miss the easiness of it. It’s where I’ve spent the majority of my life. I know how Sydney works; I’m not sure I’ll ever really know NYC so intimately.

Which is not to say that NYC isn’t wonderful. It is in many many ways. Almost four years back I wrote a Sydney/New York City comparison. Most of it is still holds true. There are many, many things that NYC does a lot better than Sydney. But Sydney is my heart, NYC isn’t.

RW5: aaargh, finishing stuff, and Jones and Mahy

Request Week is now over and the comments are closed, but I’ll continue working through the rest of the requests. Cause I’m honorable that way.

Marrije wants to know about

the pluses and minuses of living in several places (i.e. nyc and sydney) and how you do that logistically.

I hope you understand, Marrije, that a question like that is a license for me to whinge. You have been warned.

My answer in short: Aaaaaarrrrrrggggggghhh!!!!!!!

We’ve been saying for a while that we live half the year in Sydney and half in NYC. But it’s not true. It never has been.

We haven’t lived anywhere for six months straight since we lived in Sydney for almost two years way back in the olden days. The last time we were three months anywhere was San Miguel de Allende. In 2006 I spent time in Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne, San Francisco, Bologna, Madison, New York City, Kyoto, LA, Seattle, Lexington, London and Bangkok.

I have no idea how we do it logistically. Every time I think about it my head explodes. I long to live somewhere for a year without packing and unpacking my bags at least once a month. (I’d prefer that somewhere to be Sydney.)

Pluses: Lots of different friends in lots of different places. Seriously, the list of cities I could happily live in just grows and grows. Seeing more of the world is wonderful. (The whole airplane/airport thing I could live without.) There are still so many more cities I’d love to see: I’ve never been to Istanbul or Paris or Rio de Janeiro or Dublin or Capetown or Amsterdam or Tokyo or Moscow or Kinshasa.

Minuses: Too much jetlag and travel (seriously I think we lose at least two months every year to travel and dealing with jetlag. Not good.), getting sick A LOT, being desperately homesick for at least one month of the year (I know, I’m a big baby), never knowing where my favourite coat is, the book(s) I need are always in the other city, doing my taxes is a nightmare, feeling like I’m missing all the important moments in my family and friends’ lives, missing my family and friends (doesn’t matter where I am, I’m always missing someone), whingeing about it all way too much.

A lurker asks:

what if (hypothetically of course) one is an adolescent writer, who writes sporadically – poems, first pages, occasionally a whole short story! – but never finishes? should i (or one . . . or . . . never mind) push myself to finish a novel if i hope to be a writer someday, even if the process starts to feel stressful and rushed? and any tips to how to reach the end? or should i take my time and enjoy the ride? i’ve never been able to stick with a story more than a couple months MAX on my own. i’ve tried several times to write a nano-novel or similar timed bits but always give it up as more hopeless than usual. i love starting to write novels—just never finish them. thoughts?

Scott has written about this one in detail. Read him! There’s gold in that there advice.

Like he said the only way to learn how to finish a story is to, you know, finish a story. Circular but true. Personally, I don’t reckon writing’s much fun until I have a complete draft to mess around with. You’re denying yourself the best part!

That said I didn’t feel that way when I was a beginning writer. I wrote more fragments than finished stories and novels, and I almost never wrote more than one draft. Finishing and redrafting were skills I learned (to love) later.

My biggest advice to beginning writers is to have fun, enjoy yourself! I have more to say on the subject of beginning writers getting overly obsessed with the publishing rather than the writing part here. Which is not what a lurker was asking about, but is a tiny bit a propos.

Orangedragonfly asks:

if you could sit down and have lunch with any person who ever lived, who would you choose and why? (this is a standard question for me. i ask everyone. i love to hear the responses.)

Diana Wynne Jones and Margaret Mahy. Because they are the two geniuses of my field. I would love to sit down and talk writing with them. Or anything else really. They are goddesses.

For your edermahcayshun

An excellent piece from Daily Kos on the influence foreignors have always had on American politics. To which I can only say, “Well, der, people.” Show me one country in the world that isn’t influenced by other countries. For that matter show me one person who isn’t influenced by other people. Even hermits are influenced by others.

This is my favourite review of Scott‘s latest book, The Last Days. I think she misses Cal. What do you reckon? I gotta confess I prefer Last Days to Peeps, but I hear her pain. For the record, we wanted the book to be subtitled “Companion to Peeps” but we was overruled.

Simonne Howell, author of the fabulous Notes from the Teenage Underground (which Scott just finished and thoroughly enjoyed), is collecting haikus on her myspace account. I contributed a cricket one. Surely she needs more than just one cricket haiku . . .

I learned today that Harry Potter is hugely hugely hugely popular here in Thailand, which made me wonder: is there’s any country in the world where Harry Potter isn’t popular? While in England I learned that quite a few books and writers that are enormously popular in the US of A can barely sell more than a dozen copies in the UK. (No, I will not name them. On account of their lack of success reflects rather poorly on the United Kingdom.)

What exciting things have you lot learned today?

Los Angeles

I ain’t never going to love Los Angeles. Not going to happen. The car thing makes it so difficult. In the last few days I’ve spent more time in cars than the preceding few months! Aaarggh!

But on this—my longest trip to the city—I’ve been eating fabulous food, walking along the beach, visiting amazing cool places like the Getty Centre, and getting to hang out with my sister and my other fabulous friends here like Doselle and Janine Young, Cecil Castellucci (at last we meet!), Alice Taylor, and Rachel Cohn. If only our insanely jampacked scheduled had allowed us to see all our friends here . . .

And you know what? If LA had footpaths and decent public transport it would be awesome! Just fix the car thing and I’m a total convert.

And tonight I get to go the cast and crew screening of Flags of our Fathers thanks to my fabulous sister, Niki.


Yes, the being-in-Los Angeles thing is why I’m behind on email and responding to comments and all of that. In the next few weeks we’ll be in Seattle, Kentucky, Indiana in the US of A, as well as London and Birmingham in the UK. Normal service is not going to be resumed any time soon. Sorry!

Brrrr

Wow, it’s cold here in NYC. Must be close to time for me to rack off back to Sydney where it’s heap big much warmerness. But of course I’m doing my usual thing of being completely besotted with the place I’m in and not wanting to leave.

So here’s a short list of things I love about NYC:

  • The crystalline light in Autumn (I’m betting Margo’s against crystalline)
  • Getting to wear a hat and coat and scarf
  • Hearing two perfectly civilised people come close to killing each over who has dibs on a cab
  • Being able to hang out with some of the best writers in the business pretty much any day of the week
  • Watching steam rise up through the street
  • Being able to order awesome food to come to my house any hour of the day or night

New York may be way too cold right now. But it’s also inhale-and-hold beautiful. Sometimes I wish I could stay just a little bit longer.

Arduous Research

So I have a genius idea for a book1 that requires me to watch lots of old American movies from the 1930s, 40s and 50s. It’s tough but someone has to do it. Plus Scott’s never seen a lot of these movies and I consider that to be criminal. Do you know before he met me he’d never even heard of Preston Sturges? What kind of a life is that?

So far we’ve worked our way through the films of (natch) Preston Sturges, George Cukor, and Douglas Sirk. As well as almost all the ones starring Rita Hayworth (Yay Gilda!).

Today we watched Mildred Pierce. Bless it. Bless Joan Crawford and Anne Blythe. The role of Veda is such a hoot. Has a greater bitch ever graced the silver screen? Sure, probably, there’s always Eve Harrington in All About Eve which we watched the day before. Scott had never seen it and is now smitten. Who wouldn’t be? Such a fabulous movie!

Yes, that's Fredi Washington again. Write a book about her already!Watching these more-than-fifty-year-old movies I’ve been struck by how many of them are written by women and how many of them are driven by women. They have not just genuine starring roles, but also lots of juicy supporting parts. There are women older than forty in these movies.

Last time I went to the movies I sat through the regulation ten minutes of shorts and did not see a single woman. Not one. The time before that there were two women and both seemed to be in the girlfriend role and were a long, long, long way off forty. What on Earth happened in the intervening years? How come most of the good roles for women are now on the tellie?

I’d love to hear your theories. Lauren, ex-Hollywood producer friend of mine?

And bonus question what are your favourite movies from the first three decades of talking pictures? (Doesn’t have to be American.) I’d tell you mine but it would take hours . . .

  1. Scott does not believe in the existence of this genius idea. He thinks I just like watching the same old movies over and over. I’ll show him! []

More on banned books week

Us Asif! authors have been chatting more than a little about the whole books-being-banned situation and we don’t always agree. Some of us do think there are books that are inappropriate for kids. For instance, I would not be totally wild about a ten-year-old reading the Marquis de Sade.

On the other hand, when I was ten I picked up Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer (I blame my parents!) and promptly put it back down ’cause it was not only gross, it was really really really boring. I read it again in my late teens and had the exact same response. I imagine the ten-year-old me would have had the same response to the Marquis. As a kid, much like the kid in The Princess Bride, I skipped all the kissing bits. Boooring!

nullMost of us Asifers agree that there are books that kids shouldn’t be reading, but none of us can agree on what those books are or what the magic age of being able to read “adult” stuff is. I read and loved Alexander Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet at an early age, along with a slew of other “inappropriate” books. I think it had no ill effects on me (others may disagree).

The problem with the banning of books in the US of A is that there are different rules in every state. Hell, there are different rules in every school. In a lot of cases individual principals (head masters) and school librarians are removing books from shelves, or not ordering them in the first place.

Now, obviously school librarians need a certain amount of discretion. They have budgets. They can’t buy every book and it’s their job to buy books that are appropriate for their students. You can’t do that without making judgements.

The school librarians and principals are the ones on the frontline. They’re the ones dealing with parental complaints. They’re the ones looking at catalogues and deciding what to order. If their school is in a particularly conservative area they might see a book titled Sex Kittens and Horn Dawgs fall in love listed as a middle grade book and decide that ordering it just isn’t worth the grief, no matter how tame the content.

As it happens that’s exactly what’s happened to Maryrose Wood’s book despite it being as pure as the driven snow and its title being the raunchiest thing about it. And yet the title fits the book to a tee. Should her publishers have called it something else? Should people read books before they rush to ban ’em?

Is banning books ever a good idea? How about just limiting access? There are some kids who are horribly freaked out by books. I babysat for this one little boy and if I read him stories that were even a teeny tiny bit scary he would not be able to sleep for a few nights. When he was a little older and reading on his own, Grimm’s fairy tales deprived him of sleep for weeks. He wasn’t ready for it and was a much happier and saner kid when he stuck to sport and pony books.

But there are young kids who adore the scary stuff. Why should they be deprived of their reading pleasure cause some other kid is scared by the same books? Kids mature at different rates. One size really does not fit all. And besides, that kid I babysat for—he self-regulated. He stopped reading the fairy tales after the first two. Every time he decided a book was scary he stopped reading. I suspect a lot of kids do the same thing.

So usually it’s not a question about what a kid does or doesn’t want to read; it’s about what their parents do or don’t want them to read. And, yes, parents have every right to do that. But they do not have every right to regulate what all the kids at their child’s school can read.

And, frankly, I worry about parents who are that controlling. When I was in primary school one of my friends was not allowed to read any books her olds deemed sexist or racist. So she read those forbidden books (mostly by Enid Blyton) over at my place and we’d pretend to be members of the Famous Five (with huge fights over who got to be George) or pretend we were in boarding school at Mallory Towers and have midnight feasts (though sadly we never managed to stay up till midnight for them).

Forbidding her those books and not allowing her to watch television did not protect her from racism or sexism. It just made the forbidden items more desirable. It’s incredibly hard to control the cultural artefacts your child comes into contact with and even harder to control what they make of them.

I understand the impulse, but that doesn’t make it a good idea. (I also understand why authors feel compelled to respond to bad reviews.) I also wonder what exactly is the harm that parents think their child will contract from reading books they deem “inappropriate”. Is it a bid to put off having awkward conversations? To protect the child from how foul the world is? Is it an attempt to mould your children in your own image? (Good luck with that, by the way.)

What do you lot reckon?

Changeling

Delia Sherman’s latest book, Changeling, is a middle grade fantasy that doesn’t resemble anything else I’ve ever read.1 It has many recogniseable elements: fairies, changelings, mermaids, dragons, New York City, but they’ve never been brought together like this before.

Delia Sherman's ChangelingSherman’s New York City is unlike any NYC I’ve read about.2 She’s transformed it into “New York City Between”—a wonderland populated by fairy folk and characters from well-known children’s stories like Eloise—and she’s done it in a way that keeps the city entirely recogniseable and yet utterly different. Central Park is just as easy to get lost in, Wall Street is just as crazy busy, but it’s run by the dragon of Wall Street. If you know NYC at all well you’ll be delighted, no matter how old you are, and if you don’t know the city it doesn’t matter. Changeling stands up on its own.

I hesitate to say it because the word has such a bad wrap, but Changeling is utterly charming. I was entranced by Neef and her New York Between from the very first page. I can’t wait to read more about both of them. Here’s to it becoming a series of many, many more books!

If you don’t believe me, check out these other folks who loved it as much as I did.

  1. Except her earlier short stories set in the same world. []
  2. I would love to see the complete list of magical New Yorks. I bet it’s really really long. A truly complete version would have to list Dawn Powell’s New York as well as Eloise’s. []

La la la . . .

I’ve added a new thingie to the side bar: By Popular Demand is a quick and easy link to my most popular posts. If there any other posts you think should be there let me know.

I mainly did this to help keep the Good News Only thread alive. In dribs and drabs people are still adding news. I encourage you alll to keep doing so. Whenever I’m feeling a wee bit down I reread it and it cheers me instantly. So, yeah, I’m trying to keep it alive for purely selfish reasons.

Have you all read Sara Gran’s muy amusing piece on what utter utter hell it is to be a writer in the horrifically writer-infested Brooklyn? If not do so immediately. It is to giggle. (For a login go to bugmenot.com.)

I’m so relieved my NYC time is spent in Manhattan. I wonder what the most writer-infested part of Sydney is? I hope it’s not Newtown, Chippendale or Surry Hills. But I have grave fears . . . Feel free to reassure me that it’s Ashfield, Balmain, Paddington, Chatswood or any other place I’ve no intention of living in. (No offence intended. Well, only a little bit. The teeniest of little bits. Honest.)

Fan art, my next novel, & reading

I got my very first fan art by the lovely Kate of Refrigerate Kate. Here are her sketches of Jay-Tee:


Isn’t that fabulous? (Though for the record Jay-Tee doesn’t smoke.)

There are also sketches of Tom on her site. I’m dead chuffed! I have fan art! Really good fan art! Thank you, Kate.

I’ve also neglected to mention what novel I decided to write next. On account of it was youse lot’s overwhelming favourite (and me having already written 25 thou words of it) I will now be turning my attention to finishing the Great Australian feminist monkey-knife fighting Elvis mangosteen cricket fairy young adult novel.

Anyone who’d like a sneak preview—I’ll be reading the first three chapters later today:

NYRSF Reading Series
Tuesday, September 5, 2006
7PM (doors open at 6:30PM)
Scott and me
Melville Gallery
213 Water Street
New York, NY

Hope to see some of you there. Now it’s past my bedtime . . .

Answers

While I’ve been buried in my book and/or in Kyoto (will tell all about it when my sister sends me photos) you lot asked a bunch of interesting quessies. Here are my answers:

    Quessies from Ken Kugler: I was wondering if the deadline given to you pushes you to complete a book before you are really ready to give it to the editor? It seems that if that is the case, writing the book first and being satisfied with the final results before handing it in would be the way to go if you can hold out for money. Also there is the question of payment. Are there financial incentives to consider such as preselling a series at a lower price?
    A: Sure, that definitely happens. So far it hasn’t happened to me. I’m blessed with editors who won’t publish anything from me unless they’re sure it’s the best I can do. I’m running late on the current book and rather than publish prematurely we’ve chosen to skip doing arcs (advance readers’ copies). If this were a standalone book or the first in a series that would be a disaster. Fortunately it’s the third book in a trilogy so it should be okay. I’d much rather be late and unreviewed than publish a sub-par book.
    Typically a starting writer will get more money for a finished book than for a partial (usually a first-time writer can’t sell from a partial at all). There are exceptions obviously. As you get more established and particularly if you become a New York Times bestselling author like Libba Bray or my old man or other exalted folk you can prolly sell a rough idea scribbled down on a napkin for scads of dosh. In my case I imagine I’ll get more money for a finished book (depends on the book, natch). If an agent or editor wants to step in and answer this one I’d love to hear it.
    Now a bunch from Amanda Coppedge to help flesh out my wikipedia entry:What is your favourite book? Er, um. So hard! It used to be The Master and Margarita. Some days it still is.

    Food: mangosteens.

    Colour: Um again. I am tempted to say puce. Easier to tell you what colour I don’t like: yellow. But that’s only cause I look crap in it.

    Animal: my husband.

    Toothpaste: people have a favourite toothpaste?

    Did you always want to be a writer, or did you have other career aspirations as a youngster? I never wanted to be anything else, but I did work on having a main job so that I could support myself. For the longest time that job was being an academic.

    Any awards, degrees, etc. that should really be up there? Not that I can think of. I am award-less. Though I do have a Ph.D so you must all bow down and call me Dr Justine.

    Anything else that just screams “essential Justine bio factoid”? That my religion is the noble sport of cricket.

    Quessie from Marrije: I wonder what stories the taxi drivers in New York tell themselves and each other about black people.

    A: Here are some theories I’ve heard: Cab drivers don’t stop for black men because they think they are more likely to be robbed and/or assaulted by black men then by anyone else. And they don’t stop for black women because they think they are accompanied by hidden black men who are just waiting for the cab to stop so that they can jump out and assault and/or rob them. And even if there is no assault the black passenger will make the cab driver go to an “unsafe” neighbourhood where they will be assaulted and/or robbed.

    Q from Kristine Smith: Have you run this [the idea of writing a book on spec] past your agent?

    A: Yup. She thought it was an excellent idea.

    In response to those (few) folks wanting to read the Cambodian novel: I may well make it available online some day, but only when all possibilities of traditional publication are totally exhausted.

If anyone else has any further theories, answers or questions fire away.

And thanks again for all the fab comments on the writing on spec post. I feel very encouraged by your responses. My loins are now girded. I shall do this thing!

IBARW: Moment of Clarity (updated)

A contribution to International Blog Against Racism Week:

One time white me was out on the town with a black friend. We were wearing our very bestest clothes and looking very fine indeed. Especially my friend who is gorgeous no matter what she wears.

We needed a cab. She, being the seasoned New Yorker, stepped out onto the street with her arm out while I futzed about with my bag. Several cabs with their lights on zoomed by.

I looked up wondering why there were so many off-duty cabs at a non-off-duty time of night. More empty cabs went by. Not one had off-duty lights on. What the hell? I thought.

“Okay,” my friend said. “You try.”

We switched places. Seconds later. I kid you not—seconds—a cab stopped.

“Noooo!” I said.

“Yes,” my friend replied.

“Is it always like this?”

“Not always, but often enough.”


Update: Lili has a wonderful story in the comments.

Tell me stuff (updated)

You are correct that I have not been blogging much or responding to comments like I usually do or even responding to email a whole lot.

The reason is that I’m on a deadline (yes, the same one, yes, it was moved again, yes I really have to meet this one) and am working my arse off. (Oh, how I miss my arse!)

In the meantime I think you lot should entertain me. Here are some questions:

  1. Does anyone have any recs for best brunch place in NYC?
  2. Who’s going to be the first Australian to win the Tour de France (no, it doesn’t have to be this year)?
  3. What’s the best book you’ve read lately?
  4. I just read Out by Natuso Kirino. Loved it. Can anyone recommend a recent crime novel that’s sort of like? I don’t like mysteries—that is I prefer crime books where you know who done it and it’s the whys that are the thing. So I want something all psychologicy. (My fave crime writers are Patricia Highsmith and Jim Thompson.)
  5. Where do I go to buy buttons in NYC? (Yes, that’s right I still haven’t gotten them.) (Oh, and by “buttons” I mean those things that can fasten clothes.)
  6. Is anyone else following the New York Liberty this year? Testing times, eh?
  7. Apparently I need some kind of formal wear, you know, like a dress. Anyone got any recs for cool interesting designery shops in NYC?
  8. What’s your favourite Elvis song and why?
  9. Without googling explain the difference between the Australian and New Zealand flags. Which is lamer?
  10. What new-to-DVD movie should I get to reward myself when I finally meet the deadline?

Thanks! Hope you’re all having a fab weekend (what’s left of it), that all your deadlines are being met and you don’t look at Monday morning with too much dread. As soon as my deadline is finished I promise to be a good blogger again.

Update: bonus question:

Riemannia‘s question here reminds me that I’ve been wondering what you call those metal door thingies that you see all the time here in the footpaths of NYC. You know, that when you open them reveal stairs that lead down into the basement of shops and restaurants and bars. Do they have a name? They aren’t grates so what are they?