Writing! And Fergus falls off the bed.

Woo hoo! I’ve spent this week house hunting, writing, catching up with my oldest friends and trying to make Fergus laugh (he’s getting really good at it )

The funniest thing this week was…

…We put Fergus to sleep on my Aunty’s bed, ensuring he was well padded on all sides. He’s becoming quite mobile and can wriggle backwards and roll over, so we walled him in with pillows and cushions to make sure he didn’t roll off the bed or wriggle into an awkward position.

Back outside, we could hear Fergus crying himself to sleep…no big deal, he usually whimpers for less than a minute before zonking out. My little cousin, aged 4, wanted to check on him, but we instructed her to wait until he was properly asleep. But this time, he didn’t sleep. Instead he cried and cried some more.

“Please,” said my cousin.

“OK,” we said. “Sneak in there and see if he’s lying  on his back or on his stomach.”

“Terrific,” she said. And in she snuck.

The theory was this: If he was lying on his stomach, we’d go in and turn him back on to his back, and this might help him sleep. If he was still lying on his back, then maybe he’d drop off to sleep in a few more minutes.

Anyway…my little cousin came back with the report: “He’s on his back.”

“Super,” we thought. “We’ll leave him for a few more minutes.”

But, he cried and cried and wouldn’t settle. Eventually, I went in to calm him down.

SHOCK! He wasn’t there.
Or at least, he wasn’t on the bed.

He’d reversed down the bed, pushed the pillow wall onto the floor, and then rolled himself right off the bed and onto the carpet. No wonder he was crying! The poor little guy must’ve had quite a shock. I gathered him up and went outside.

Further investigation…

My cousin seemed unmoved by Fergus’ tale of woe. It was my Aunty who twigged first: “Was Fergus on the bed or on the floor when you checked?” she asked.

“On the floor,” answered Little Cousin, without hesitation.

And oh, how we laughed. She’d done exactly as we’d instructed. We’d simply asked her to report whether Fergus was on his back or his belly, and she’d done that. We hadn’t asked for further details. We hadn’t requested initiative.

And the moral of the story?
Well, there are two:

1) Never underestimate your child’s intelligence. If we’d asked Little Cousin to check whether Fergus was OK, she probably would’ve told us: no, he’s fallen off the bed and crashed onto the floor. Instead, we asked a closed question and she gave a closed answer, as directed and expected.

2) If your baby cries and cries and won’t settle, check to make sure he’s still where you put him.

My #1 Recommendation for your #1 New Year’s Writing Resolution

Fergus ponders his New Year Resolutions: learn to eat, learn to crawl, learn to walk. What a year!

What’s my #1 Recommendation for your #1 Writing Resolution?

I’m going to cheat here: my #1 recommendation for your #1 writing resolution is half-way down this post, so skip straight there if you’re keen.

It’s all in the words

My #2 recommendation: whatever resolutions you make, make ‘em SMART. Kick those open-ended generalisations out the door: they doom you to failure.

Example?

My big writing goal this year is very clear:

- In 2010 I will finish the next two books in the Takeshita Demons series.

…a truckload more motivating than…

- “In 2010 I will write more.”

“More” is all so vague. It leaves me with a consistent uneasiness, a wondering about whether this week’s writing was “more” or “less” than last week’s.

So what’s my #1 Recommendation for your #1 Writing Resolution?

If you’re an unpublished writer of children’s books, your #1 writing resolution this year should be to enter the 2010 Frances Lincoln Diverse Voices book award. Why? Why not??

• It’s free to enter
• It’s open to any unpublished writer, living anywhere in the world.
• You can enter by email.
• You can win 1500 pounds *PLUS* a publishing deal complete with advance and royalties

WHAT’S NOT TO LIKE?? So, dust off that old manuscript or get your head down writing a new one (15,000 to 35,000 words). Entries are due 26 February 2010.

Not a children’s writer?

Give it a shot anyway…you could find a new voice! Or…check out these writing competitions instead:

• TV scriptwriter? Enter the @NexTV Writing and Pitch Competition
• Budding song writer? Enter this International Song Writing Competition
• Crime writer? How about a “new talent” crime and mystery writing competition?
• Like to eat while you write? Share your chocolate love and win a chocolate pizza (this one closes 31 December…go go go!)
• Prefer to write Western adventures? Romance novels? Young adult fiction? Whatever!! Enter the 2010 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award. Another free-to-enter and enter-by-email nothing-to-lose-but-pride novel writing / manuscript competition.

Here’s to 2010! Twenty-ten. Two-oh-ten. Year of Grabbing Opportunities. May it be a good one!!

“Will I Ever Be Able To Write Anything Good Ever Again?”

Fergus and the toe-munching dread

I am writing again!
Yeeee ha!

Over recent months I’ve been taking excellent care of a Growing Sense of Dread, watering it daily and keeping it in a special place in the corner of every conscious thought.

The feeling is part the dead-wood of procrastination, and part the claustrophobia of being a new mum. I call it “Will I Ever Be Able To Write Anything Good Ever Again?,” subtitled “What If This Next Book Is Rubbish, And When Will I Ever Have Time To Write It Anyway?”

Everything happens for a reason

Thankfully, I have a head-start: I used the last trimester of my pregnancy to slam out a few chapters of Forests and Filth-Lickers, the next title in the Takeshita Demons series.

And, as my lovely mum always says, “everything happens for a reason,” so maybe that’s why Fergus arrived so late. If he’d come on time (like I’d wished and ate curry and drank raspberry tea and hoped that he would), I would’ve had less Pre-Baby time to write, and would be in an even larger pickle.

As it is, I think things will be OK.

Writing, one hour at a time

Last week I finally found a few hours to string together and call my own, and voila! I read what I’d written all those months ago with much excitement. It’s a rollicking beginning, plus, the outlined plot is terrific and getting better as characters start to assert their own ideas about what will happen and change things along the way. I may not be able to write all weekend or in 12-hour stints like I used to, but I’m a step closer to adopting a more sustainable regime.

Funniest prank of the week

And PS: this made me laugh, all week. I recently emailed my sister, who’s kite-surfing the planet while we housesit her house, carsit her car, and dogsit her super-slim super-energetic two-year-old kelpie, Roo.

I filled her in on all the news — her leather couch is covered in spew, the house insurance is due, the lawn is doing OK, and the neighbours think Roo is putting on weight. I attached the photo below and asked her to double-check how much we should be feeding him: And oh, then I laughed and laughed. Apparently she did too.

PPS: I don’t know if that is as funny if you don’t know Roo. But I include it anyway because it makes me cry from laughing everytime.

It’s one of the funniest thing that happened this week. Up there with Fergus eating watermelon for the first time. And Fergus swimming in a friend’s pool for the first time.

Oh, how funny are dogs and babies!!

Fergus pooed his first words.

We’re so proud. This week Fergus pooed his first words. If you’re not keen on poo stories, you should probably skip this post. It mostly contains poo jokes and GPDs (Graphic Poo Details).

Goodbye, MSI! Never again, PWM!

This week we made the change from disposable nappies to modern cloth nappies (Green Kids), and we’re loving it. I’m the ultimate in lazy: if it’s less hassle, I’ll give it a shot. This means we’ve been using throw-away nappies, because, despite being greenly inclined, I kind of assumed they’d be easier. How wrong I was!

Using major brand disposables we’ve had constant trouble with leakage disasters, including major MSIs (Mustard Spouting Incidents) and PWMs (Public Wardrobe Malfunctions).

At the time I wondered: What’s the point of a nappy if you can’t count on it to work? What’s the point of a nappy if you live in constant fear? I couldn’t leave the house without packing spare everything and at least two changes of clothes; one time we pooed through four different outfits in 24 hours.

Use cloth: save on washing!

So far, touch wood, these new nappies are doing a much better job of containing the mess and keeping Fergus’ skin clean and happy. And…no poo leaks! This means we can focus on washing his *nappies* instead of his clothes, my clothes, his car seat cover, my sister’s couch. And isn’t that the way things should be?

These nappies are super-easy to clean and dry  (it helps when it’s 40 degrees centigrade outside), plus they look fabulous, they’re one-size-fits-all (they’ll last him ages), and I feel great about slashing the number of disposables we use. YAY all round!

And the funniest bit?

How do we know these nappies work? We unwittingly put them to the ultimate test.

Attack of the poo queue

Now he’s a bit older with a digestive system to match, Fergus usually poos about once a day. This is great because I can pretty much relax once he’s finished doing the pooing. HOWEVER, for the last few days there hasn’t been much action in the poo department. Something, and we knew not what, had caused a slow down, a back up, a poo queue.

As each hour passed poo-less, we grew more and more worried. How would the new nappies cope? Could cloth really pass the test when the poo-nami came?

We’d put him to bed each night hoping that the evening might bring some relief. And each morning we’d wake pooless and wondering. When would it come? How much longer did we have?

Well, our questions were answered this morning.

It came, it soaked, it was conquered

The poo-nami splashed down around 10AM this morning. Days worth, all at once. And the cloth nappy swallowed it whole, without fuss, without hesitation. Not a mustard trickle in sight. Yay nappy!

But what was in sight?

Amongst the debris, we spotted tiny undigested bits of something. The source of the go-slow.

Turns out that Fergus had swallowed bits of magazine he’d been chewing on. On closer inspection, we could actually make out letters, read bits of the article. Fergus had pooed his first words! We were so proud!

Hopefully things will return to normal now. I’ll certainly think twice before letting him chow down on trashy printed material in the future. Next time I’ll make sure he eats something more educational.

The struggle to juggle; the joy of letting go

I was never turned on by recipes and shining bathrooms.

Dishes were washed once a day, clothes about once a week. I unearthed the vacuum cleaner at most twice a year. When bored of cooking the stand-by spaghetti bolognaise, I’d toast a cheese sandwich or eat out. I was too busy to feign interest, too interested in other things. I was focused on drafting queries, selling articles, going diving or mountain biking or planning trips… I wondered how other people could be so interested in cook books and tupperware.

But oh, how the un-housewife-ly have mutated.

Farewell to the otherly me

I am now a stay-at-home mum. I am stripped of many of the things I used to care about (work deadlines, work politics, work earnings, work) and must fill my days with something else.

Of course Fergus is a big (and delightful)(and gifted and talented)(and did I mention lovely?) part of that something else. But in the hours when he’s playing, it’s easier to be hovering and hoovering than furthering the strategic planning of my business empire.

I’m not moaning about staying at home. It’s an enormous privilege to be here to see Fergus smile and struggle and spew and grin. But I do lament the loss of the otherly me, the me who worked hard at school and university to create a career I loved, the me who was good at her job.

My (short-lived) valiant attempt: Super-Mum

For the last couple of weeks, since arriving back in Australia, I’ve felt the loss of this otherly me quiet keenly. I guess I half-expected life would return to ‘normal’ now we’re not jet-setting around the world on a never-ending honeymoon.

But there is no normal now. Fergus is rubbish at mountain biking and scuba diving and he’s certainly not conducive to the completion of any task requiring more than 45 minutes of my undivided attention.

For a while I tried to deny the change. I tortured myself trying to juggle my old life and my new life and I got more and more tense and felt more and more boxed in. It really wasn’t working. (I scored “8″ on the post-natal depression questionnaire and was too scared to ask “out of what?”)

So this week I’ve given up.

Choosing to drop the ball

This week, I’ve ditched all thought of returning to work or spruiking for freelance contracts and instead I’ve embraced Being A Mum. I decided not to feel guilty that I was staying home and not contributing to the household income and not growing my career. Instead I took Fergus to Rhyme Time at the local library and we sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with all the actions. And I vacuumed the house. And today I actually opened a recipe book AND cooked something from a recipe!!!

And you know what?

It tasted good! All of it. Fergus loves Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The house looks great without dog hair everywhere. And although I won’t cook chicken broccoli casserole again (perhaps a little bland), it was kind of fun to prepare and I felt kind of proud to serve it up to my in-laws (who thought it was very good ).

So now I’m beginning to understand why people take so much care in their cooking and pride in their homes. It’s not scuba diving or mountain biking, but it is fun and delicious and satisfying. And, lucky for me, most of it takes less than 45 minutes of undivided attention

And the funny thing is, now that I’m not stressing about how to fit so much in, I seem to have more time. Hopefully, all going to strategic-business-plan, I should begin a weekly Fergus-free writing slot, starting next week (no really! starting Tuesday, I promise!). I’ll miss Fergus for the few hours that I’m neck-deep in words and plots and imaginary adventures, but all that stuff is a part of the otherly me that is too precious to give up completely (and plus I really need to get a move on with the next Takeshita Demons book!).

I bite my thumb at physics

And as a final thought: it’s a real bummer that women have to choose between family and career, it’s really rotten and a mean trick. I know there are other ways and exceptions and all that, but for the most part “1″ (family) + “1″ (career) just cannot equal “2″.  Bollocks to you, physics!

Japanese ghost stories: the yokai without a face

Born on Greek island in 1850, Lafcadio Hearn was quite the traveller, living in Ireland, the U.S., and the West Indies before settling in Japan.

Lafcadio Hearn, also known as Koizumi Yakumo, was a journalist best known for Kwaidan, his book of super-spooky Japanese ghost stories.

Hearn’s ghost story “Mujina” appears in Kwaidan and features a faceless yokai he calls a mujina, also known as a noppera-bō.

“Mujina” is reproduced below…
ENJOY! And…as you read it, just remember that similar mujina sightings have been more recently reported in Hawaii!

MUJINA, from Kwaidan
by Lafcadio Hearn

On the Akasaka Road, in Tokyo, there is a slope called Kii-no-kuni-zaka, which means the Slope of the Province of Kii. I do not know why it is called the Slope of the Province of Kii. On one side of this slope you see an ancient moat, deep and very wide, with high green banks rising up to some place of gardens; and on the other side of the road extend the long and lofty walls of an imperial palace.

Before the era of street-lamps and jinrikishas [rickshaws], this neighborhood was very lonesome after dark; and belated pedestrians would go miles out of their way rather than mount the Kii-no-kuni-zaka, alone, after sunset. All because of a Mujina that used to walk there.

The last man who saw the Mujina was an old merchant of the Kyobashi quarter, who died about thirty years ago. This is the story, as he told it:

One night, at a late hour, he was hurrying up the Kii-no-kuni-zaka, when he perceived a woman crouching by the moat, all alone, and weeping bitterly. Fearing that she intended to drown herself, he stopped to offer her any assistance or consolation in his power. She appeared to be a slight and graceful person, handsomely dressed; and her hair was arranged like that of a young girl of good family.

“O-jochu [young girl],” he exclaimed, approaching her, “O-jochu, do not cry like that!…Tell me what the trouble is; and if there be any way to help you, I shall be glad to help you.” (He really meant what he said; for he was a very kind man.)

But she continued to weep, hiding her face from him with one of her long sleeves.

“O-jochu,” he said again, as gently as he could, “please, please listen to me!… This is no place for a young lady at night! Do not cry, I implore you! — only tell me how I may be of some help to you!”

Slowly she rose up, but turned her back to him, and continued to moan and sob behind her sleeve.

He laid his hand lightly upon her shoulder, and pleaded: “O-jochu! O-jochu! O-jochu!… Listen to me, just for one little moment!… O-jochu! O-jochu!”

Then that O-jochu turned around, and dropped her sleeve, and stroked her face with her hand; — and the man saw that she had no eyes or nose or mouth,— and he screamed and ran away.

Up Kii-no-kuni-zaka he ran and ran; and all was black and empty before him. On and on he ran, never daring to look back; and at last he saw a lantern, so far away that it looked like the gleam of a firefly; and he made for it.

It proved to be only the lantern of an itinerant soba-seller who had set down his stand by the road-side; but any light and any human companionship was good after that experience; and he flung himself down at the feet of the soba-seller, crying out, “Ah! — aa!! — aa!!!”…

“Kore! kore! [Here, here]” roughly exclaimed the soba-man. “Here! what is the matter with you? Anybody hurt you?”

“No — nobody hurt me,” panted the other, “only… Ah! — aa!”

“Only scared you?” queried the peddler, unsympathetically. “Robbers?”

“Not robbers, not robbers,” gasped the terrified man… “I saw… I saw a woman — by the moat; — and she showed me… Ah! I cannot tell you what she showed me!”

“Ha! Was it anything like THIS that she showed you?” cried the soba-man, stroking his own face —which therewith became like unto an Egg

… And, simultaneously, the light went out.

Oooooooo! Spooky!

Snugglepot and Who-dlepie?

You know how sometimes you have a belief in something, a something so basic it helps you make sense of the world…

Well don’t count on it.

The awful truth…

I’ve just had a tiny faith ripped away, a belief so set-in-concrete I took it for granted, something that needed no champion because it was so blindingly obvious.

Or at least, I thought it was.

This thing was my belief in the global love of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie.

***Never heard of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie?
Read on because you’re missing out!

I have always assumed that everyone must know of May Gibbs‘ Snugglepot and Cuddlepie. Such a fabulous wondrous storybook must surely have sailed through the hurdles of culture and language to be loved all over the world.

This was certainly the case for us. My sisters and I grew up on a green New Zealand farm, far from the sunburnt country of my Australian mother’s childhood.

But never too far: Mum always read to us of naughty koalas, bad-tempered puddings and, of course, brave and hilarious and exciting and utterly delightful gumnut babies.

Snugglepot and Cuddle-who?

But…at a writers’ event in the UK, I realised (right in the middle of my talk) that when I spoke of big bad Banksia Men and Little Ragged Blossom, no one had the foggiest idea what I was talking about.

And the attendees weren’t just ordinary people; they were librarians! And still they had never heard of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie!?!

Surely not???

I was dumbstruck, dumbfounded, open-mouthed, gob-smacked.
What’s going on!?!?!

As kids, alongside our Australian and New Zealand adventures we’d also read of Paddington Bear and Peter Rabbit and Ratty and Mole and Winnie the Pooh; surely British kids must have been reading of the Muddle-headed Wombat and Mrs Snake and Mr Lizard and Bunyip Bluegum and the Noble Society of Puddin’ Owners?

And so the question:

What’s with this one-way flow of stories, UK people? I thought we were part of the glorious Commonwealth, and that having the Queen on the back of my pocket money meant she was looking our way, at least occasionally.  (What’s it like in the US? Anyone there heard of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie?)

When our kids grow up and get backpacks and working holiday visas, they’ll be cruising the world and experiencing new places and meeting new people. Why make them wait till then?

Dogs, babies and more cool writing competitions…

This week we’re settling in to our new digs…

We’re housesitting a two-bedroom place near heaps of parks and shops and guess what?

The house comes with a great dog too! Roo is a 2-year-old Kelpie and has been around babies heaps. He’s very generous with his patience when Fergus is wailing and also very interested in Fergus’ smells and toys. Roo has loads of dog toys ripped apart about the place, but so far hasn’t touched any of Fergus’ toys. Instead he quietly sniffs and then settles on his mat (or at my feet when I’m feeding Fergus).

We’re going to keep a constant eye on them while they’re together, but so far it looks to be a great friendship in the making. Fergus loves Roo and is learning already to pat him “nicely” (instead of yank out a fistful of hair!).

Roo’s an inside dog, and lots of people have told us we should shut him outside now that there’s a baby in the house. Turns out that’s not the accepted logic when it comes to introducing babies to dogs…

Roo as a pup...awwwww

Introducing Roo to Fergus

I googled “dog” and “new baby” and found lots of nice tips, mostly:

1) Plan early and bring your baby home to a well-trained dog
Roo walks well on a lead, responds to basic commands, has been around babies before: we’re well ahead on this one, so “tick”!

2) Don’t stop loving your dog when the baby arrives
The dog will associate the baby with bad things. Instead, love your dog a little big extra when the baby is around. He’ll learn to love the baby too. We’re now working on developing this positive relationship, so “semi-tick”.

3) Don’t leave dog and baby alone, ever, even if everything is going A-OK
I put Fergus in his cot and then left the room so see what Roo would do. As soon as I was gone, Roo stood up and approached the cot, sniffing gently, then he left the room and went to Fergus’ play gym, sniffing the edges of that too. He didn’t do anything aggressive, but he did show extra interest when he thought I wasn’t looking. We love Roo already, but we’re planning to be ever-vigilent just the same. So “tick” on this one too.

And the writing?

Still haven’t done any writing :-/ But I did find some more cool writing competitions, including:

- a songwriting competition where you can win a Gibson Guitar

- a travel writing competition (300-700 words) where UK residents can win a trip to Istanbul

- a free-to-enter journalism competition for Canadians wanting to cover the Winter Olympics

- a song-lyric and short story competition for New Zealanders (with a special section for young writers aged 15-24)

- a free-to-enter travel-writing compeition to win a scholarship writing travel for Rough Guides in Japan

- a series of writing competitions for Muslim writers (including sections for young writers from age

- a script competition for scientists and technologists or artists exploring science and technology

And of course, don’t forget to get your entry ready for the 2010 Frances Lincoln Diverse Voices children’s book award. It’s free to enter, anyone around the world can enter, and you can win 1500 pounds plus a publishing deal. Go gettem!

Holidays, with baby

Fergus explores King Arthur's legendary birthplace

I am horribly behind in lots of things, but right up-to-date in playing with Fergus, hugging Doug and having new adventures.

How do you spell “hectic”?
We’ve had a fabulous, if often stressful, month

• tripping to Geneva
• having Fergus’ Nonnie and Poppie come to stay
• leaving and cleaning our East London flat
• spending a week in a newly renovated and very beautiful cottage on a dairy farm in Leonard Stanley (in the Cotswalds)(#19678 on Cottages4You), and
• spending a week in a perhaps-never-renovated and very quaint cottage in the main street of Tintagel (in Cornwall)(#23435 on Cottages4You).
• flying via Dubai to Perth with three-month-old Fergus

And guess what?

We made it! We’re back in Australia and still sane!

After a few days with family in Perth, we are now staying with family in rural WA and planning to stay with a third lot of family back in Perth later in the week. By the time we’re once again on our own as a new family, we’ll have spent five weeks living out of a suitcase with three-month-old Fergus. Yikes! But fun.

Super-stimulation for the super-baby
Fergus has coped extraordinarily well with all the moves: driving, flying, packing, unpacking and even jetlag (he adjusted in about three days and last night slept 12 hours for the first time ever!)(YAY Fergus!!).

He has managed to sleep in all manner of places at all manner of times. Flying thousands of feet above the ocean in a nearly-too-short bassinette is perhaps the cutest of them all: I reckon being three months old is more luxurious than flying business class.

He hardly stirred all through both flights, and Emirates provided a show bag of baby goodies as well as toy puppets, nappies and jars of baby food (perhaps a better option than the croissant breakfast? )

A tip to travelling parents (well, it worked for us anyway): we’ve kept Fergus’ lambskin rug and hand-knitted rabbit as constants: whichever strange cot or unusual place he finds himself in, Lamby and Bunnie are there, smelling oh-so-sweetly of homemade yoghurt.

And what about the writing?
I’ve been quietly stressing about my writing while we’ve been traveling. This is because

a) I’ve done nothing, which always makes things worse, and

b) finding the chunks of time I’m used to is proving to be difficult in terms of logistics and motivation. (It’s much more fun to sit and play with Fergus all day long .)

During these days of semi-procrastination, I forget how much I love to write, how the hours tick by in a creative blur, how satisfying it is to get down some good words, how thrilling it is to be on the track of a new and exciting story. I know once I get back into it I’ll be away and buzzing again.

Looking forward…
The key to Fabulous Happiness over the next few months is going to be discovering a balance between baby, family, fiction writing for pleasure, and copy writing for cash (know anyone who needs a good copy editor? ). Plus an effort to stay fit, see friends, find a new house and car and pay the bills. So how hard can it be?

Bring it on: changing countries and nappies, relying on self-employment and self-motivation, recreating ourselves and our life. What will be next?

Witch doctors, crocodiles, magic and treachery: The Gift by Gemma Birss

Gemma Birss’ The Gift was Highly Commended in the 2009 Frances Lincoln Diverse Voices children’s book award.

Gemma is a fabulously warm and energetic writer who has lived in Iran, Kenya, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Japan, France, India and England. She says she has “millions of stories from different countries and cultures in my head, all jostling with each other to be told.”

Here we interview Gemma about The Gift, her writing, and the magic of good cup of Tetleys.

The Gift tells the tale of Chipo, who wakes up one day in a strange place. She has no memories and has lost the ability to speak. The story follows Chipo through the African bush on an adventure involving witch doctors, Tokoloshes, crocodiles, snakes, magic and treachery. With an extraordinary ability to read the sky, Chipo’s adventures finally lead her to discover her true identity and the harrowing truth of her past.

Excerpt…

‘I want to show you something,’ Tendai said, jumping up.

I followed her towards the lucky bean tree.

‘Do you think you can remember to climb?’ she asked.

I nodded.

Tendai climbed quickly. Her feet knew all the knots and ledges. I followed her carefully, putting my feet where her feet had been and using the same hand grips she used. She stopped at the top of the trunk where the branches split out in different directions. There was a hollow in the centre of these branches, which was big enough for us both to sit in. I clambered up after her.

An excited grin spread across Tendai’s face as she reached her hand into a small hole in one of the branches. I thought nervously about the boomslang that had fallen from this same tree. Pungwe’s warning rang through my head; I didn’t have my magic anymore. I no longer knew how to sing to snakes and I couldn’t protect either of us as I used to. I hoped that Tendai realized this too. She didn’t pull out a boomslang, though. She pulled out a handful of necklaces. My mouth fell open with surprise. There were necklaces made from lucky beans, necklaces made from bird feathers, necklaces made from small bones. I reached out to take the one that caught my eye. It was made from thousands of yellow, jagged teeth. My fingers closed around the sharp edges.

‘That one is made from crocodile’s teeth. It is to protect you from the crocodiles in this river. It is a Tokoloshe necklace. Pungwe gave it to you.’

What do you usually write about and who do you write for?
I usually tinker away at a little diary, which means I write mainly for me. In my diary, I write about my life. I like to capture all those millions of fleeting moments. It’s like a photo album but with words. I’m always pottering about in my diary, and I don’t ever leave home without it. I write whatever pops into my head so it’s a kaleidoscope of my thoughts. I suppose I use some of these ideas and expressions in my books, so in that way, I’m writing for everyone.

Why do you write?
I have to confess; when I’m writing a book, I don’t actually write it. The book writes itself; the words spill out onto the page as they please and I don’t have much say in the matter. When I wrote The Gift, it was incredibly exciting because I didn’t know how the story was going to unfold. Chipo was having all these brilliant adventures and I had to keep writing to see what would happen next! The main reason I write, though, is that when I write, I am superlatively happy. Happiness for me is a cup of Tetleys, a notebook and a black pen.

Where and when do you write?
I write everywhere, but I spend a lot of time writing on trains and buses. Long journeys are the best for writing – watching the world unravel past your window, you have all the time in the world for ideas to unfold.

What was your favourite book as a child?
Kpo the Leopard by Rene Guillot. It was the first book that I chose for mum to buy me.

Who is your favourite children’s author either writing today or from the past?
I still have a deliciously soft spot for  Quentin Blake’s work, particularly his Lester goes to the Seaside. My favourite character from this book is Otto. Lester and Otto are at the beach and Otto picks up a stick to write his name in the sand. Then he tries to write his name backwards. It comes out as Otto. So he tries again, Otto, and again, Otto, and he gets very down in the mouth because, unlike Lester, his name is the same both forwards and backwards. Finally, an ingenious idea dawns; he grabs his stick and writes ‘Toot’! And then he dances about with glee at his cleverness. I also love Mini Grey and Oliver Jeffrey.

Some of Gemma's super-cute original artwork...

What are your plans for the future and for The Gift?
Whilst getting my story published, I’m also illustrating my picture books and training to be a Kundalini yoga teacher.

I’m working on a grown-up book at the moment too, which is a bit of a ’spiritual journey’ kind of book… it’s taking its time to work its way out and is a challenging but really worthwhile process.

Who knows what the future holds – but if my past is anything to go by, it’s going to be an interesting ride!

THANKS GEMMA!!

Good luck with your writing and illustrating!!