Sally Rippin's Blog, page 3

I am thrilled to have been asked to run a second Writing for Children class for the Faber Academy this year. Like last year, it will be held in the Melbourne Allen and Unwin offices and participants will have the opportunity to hear from an A & U publisher and have their manuscript looked at by an A & U editor at the end of the course.
As I will be away for a few classes this year, I am thrilled that Martine Murray has agreed to step in to cover me as she was such a hit with my students last year. We are also lucky enough to have Andy Griffiths join us again to share his tips on writing for kids.
For more information, visit the Faber Academy website or join us at the info evening on Wednesday 30th Jan to meet the Faber course directors at the Allen and Unwin offices.

A little bit of exciting news to squeeze in before Christmas. The advance copies of my first book in the Our Australian Girl series arrived this week. I am SO excited - and I can't WAIT for you to meet her! The first book comes out in February 2013 and the following three books, every two months after that. I am currently editing Book Two and about to start writing Book Three in January, so it is such a lovely treat to be able to hold Book One in my hands.

My girl is called Lina and the book is set in Carlton in 1956 - the year of the Melbourne Olympics AND the arrival of television. Lina's parents have recently arrived from Italy and they live in a tiny terrace house in a little lane way off Rathdowne Street with Lina's grandmother, their four children and an uncle. Lina has had a happy childhood, playing cricket with her brothers in the streets, helping her grandmother around the house and occasionally accompanying her parents down Lygon Street to do their shopping. Carlton has been Lina's whole world, the place where she feels like she belongs, until the year she wins a scholarship to an expensive private school in a far off suburb and her eyes are opened to a way of life she had never known existed. For the first time she begins to feel ashamed of the house and the family she had once loved. She makes new friends but she also makes enemies and life is no longer as simple as it had once been.

The books in this series are particularly dear to me as some of the stories are loosely based on my partner's family when they first arrived in Melbourne from Italy. I have so loved writing these books. I hope you will love reading them, too.

Last Friday night, at the NSW Premier's Literary Awards dinner, sitting in the grand reading room of the NSW Library, I was overcome with an incredible sense of gratitude. Less than twenty years ago, when I was first starting out, the thought of being in a room with some of Australia's finest writers and being flown up to attend this dinner because one of my very own books had been shortlisted, would have been inconceivable. I still remember standing in front of my bookshelf thinking 'Imagine! Imagine having my very own book up there. My words in a book on somebody's bookshelf!' That was my greatest ambition. To have book published. Everything from there on has been gravy.

Listening to Clive James' moving address recorded from his home in London as he is now too unwell to travel, it struck home how much I should savour every moment and take nothing for granted. Especially when there were times, not that long ago, I came so close to tossing it all in. This has been an incredible year. I have travelled overseas to attend conferences and book festivals and had a residency at the Melbourne Zoo. I have won awards and been shortlisted for others and sat at tables with writers I have admired my whole lifetime. My books have been taken up by publishers in other countries and I have received messages from readers the world over. By Christmas, according to my publishers, I will have sold a million Billie B Brown books. I still can't quite believe it. From where I stand right now, I couldn't imagine a more fortunate life.

I remember hearing on a radio program once, years ago, that the secret to happiness was gratitude. That in everyone's life there will be ups and downs but if you can bring to mind the things you are truly grateful for, this will buoy you through the hardest times. I have so much to be grateful for; my friends and family of course will always be my brightest light, but I am also incredibly grateful that I am able to do something that I love on a daily basis - and make a living from it. For this I have to thank not only my publishers, who have been brilliant, but all those people out there who have supported me in different ways: the booksellers, the teachers, the librarians, the parents and anyone who has put my books into the hands of a child. I also feel so grateful for the incredibly generous and supportive community of Australian children's authors and illustrators that I am so lucky to be a part of.

This has been an amazing year, and I have so many more exciting things to look forward to in 2013, including four books in the Our Australian Girl series for Penguin, a picture book with Windy Hollow, and a brand new Billie series for slightly older readers. I will keep you posted. Until then, I hope that you get a ton of books for Christmas and that you have all the peace you need to read them over the break.

I love my youngest son's school. I love everything about it: the teachers, the principal, the art room, the library, and the playground with it's veggie patch and mulberry tree for climbing. I couldn't think of a nicer place for my son to spend his days acquiring life skills and his '3 Rs'.
Often there are some really fabulous artworks and installations done by the kids throughout the school. This one (main photo) is a piece of sticker art, on the side of a portable, which has transformed it into a 'Wonder Wall'. Each of those little squares of paper contains a question from a child like: 'I wonder why the sky is blue?' and 'I wonder what makes the birds sing?' and other such charming philosophical questions.
Lately, though, I've noticed the questions have begun to degenerate. I couldn't stop giggling when I read some of the more recent additions to the Wonder Wall, especially because they seemed so much more like the kind of questions I reckon my kids would really ask.
Here are a couple, I particularly liked:

I've had a few emails recently from parents/grandparents/other relatives, desperate to track down the first Big Book of Billie for Christmas. It actually sold out last Christmas, but yesterday I received this happy news from my publisher:

"Due to overwhelming demand we've just hit reprint on the Big Book of Billie #1! It's actually a Big W exclusive until December 1st. After that it should be available from all good bookstores and leading department stores including Big W, Kmart and Target."

So, a nice little stocking filler for anyone who's already finished reading the Big Book of Billie 2?

There has also been a little confusion as to which stories the two big books contain. So, to set the whole story straight, here is a list (you will see there are four stories that double -up.)

Big Book One: The Bad Butterfly, The Soccer Star, The Midnight Feast, The Second-best Friend, The Extra-special Helper, The Beautiful Haircut, The Secret Message, The Big Sister, The Birthday Mix-up, The Best Project, The Little Lie, and The Spotty Holiday. Also includes bookmark and activity pages.

Big Book Two: The Birthday Mix-Up, The Little Lie, The Best Project, The Spotty Holiday, The Cutest Pet Ever, The Copycat Kid, The Pocket Money Blues, The Deep End, The Night Fright, The Missing Tooth, The Bully Buster and The Perfect Present. Also includes activities and a paper doll.

Happy reading!

Sadly, my zoo residency is drawing to a close. At the end of this month the only garden I will have to wander through is my own treeless backyard, the only animal sounds I will have to write by will be those of my neglected children.

But, fear not, dear reader, the happy news is that Cate Kennedy, Estelle Tang, Judy Horacek and I will be sharing our zoo stories on a panel at the Wheeler Centre next Wednesday night! Do not miss it. We will be wearing animal suits. (Maybe)

*I cannot guarantee that the photo above is of this year's Zoo Fellows.

Well, lots of good things have been happening to me at the Melbourne Zoo lately, but one of the most surprisingly lovely of them all happened early last week, during feeding-time for the baboons. I had been marvelling over their red bottoms, as we all do, when I received a phone call from Text Publishing to let me know that Angel Creek has been shortlisted for the NSW Premier's Literary Awards. Sometimes my life feels so supremely marvellously absurd.

I am so wonderfully, gratefully thrilled that this little book has not gone completely un-noticed as it's a very special book to me. Today, doing a bit of an internet-search/procrastination, I found these judges comments, which provided a little more bubbly excitement for a dreary Monday morning. I will be flying up to Sydney on Nov 30th for the awards night, so be sure to tune in after that to hear about all the glitz and glam.

JUDGES' COMMENTS
Jelly is disheartened that her family has moved ten suburbs away from her friends.  Even worse, she must endure another dreary visit from her relations over Christmas. But then Jelly and her cousins discover something in the local creek that changes everything. A bird?  No, it seems to be an angel — a baby angel with a broken wing. Suddenly there is a magical focus for their enforced time together, and, in caring surreptitiously for the enigmatic creature, they find a different way of being together — and of growing up.

Told with evocative prose, this well-paced original story blurs beautifully between realism and fantasy: is the angel real or not?  Perhaps readers never know for sure, but there is no doubt about the well-drawn characters and the believable family dynamics in this quietly compelling novel. A myriad of relationships subtly criss-cross the narrative like the strands of a spider’s web, practically invisible, yet giving the writing a quiet strength and integrity. As the story gently addresses issues of responsibility and different kinds of love and care in relationships, it pulls readers along with a compelling, suspenseful story.

As most of you probably know by now, I am currently Writer-In-Residence at the Melbourne Zoo. Earlier this week, I was asked to turn up for a photo shoot with the meerkats for the Herald Sun, along with the three other writers involved. As it happened, my son's school was closed for a teacher's strike, so I decided to bring him along to meet the meerkats, then spend the rest of the day with me at the zoo.

'OK,' I said, once the photo shoot was over. 'I'll follow you. It's midday now and the zoo doesn't close until 5pm. Here's the map - we'll go wherever you want.'

I feel like I'm always rushing my youngest, so every now and then, if it's at all possible, I like to let him go at his own pace. We began by wandering through the elephant trail, then on to the butterfly enclosure. It was a very hot day, and the butterfly room was steamy, so once I saw my son wasn't in a hurry, I found a bench and sat down to watch him.

'How are you going?' I asked after a few minutes. 'Ready to move on?'

He was standing arms out, waiting for a butterfly to land on him. He shook his head gently. 'No,' he said in a quiet voice. 'I can only move when a butterfly lands on me.'

Really? I thought, already battling feelings of impatience. 'Hey look, there's one on your hat!'

My son rolled his eyes upwards. 'Nup,' he said, barely moving his lips, lest he scare off the butterfly. 'That doesn't count. It has to land on my arms.'

Now, there are many things I can learn from my son. The first of them would obviously be patience. I like to think I had it as a kid, too, but I sure could do with a top-up every now and then. I decided this would be a perfect zen practice for me. I wouldn't check my phone, I wouldn't rush my son, I would just sit and be at one with the butterflies - for as long as it took. After all, if a nine-year-old boy could do it, surely I could?

An hour and a half later, still ensconced in his butterfly game, my son had only rounded the first corner. There were three more corners to go. I am ashamed to admit that he had beaten me. I made some lame excuse about needing to go to the toilet or needing a drink or something like that, and tried not to lose my temper when he vehemently protested, 'But I'm not even halfway!'

I have no idea how long it would have taken us to get through that damn butterfly enclosure if I hadn't rushed my son. Maybe he might have given up in his own time? Maybe we'd still be there now? Me, dozing on the floor amongst all those broken butterfly wings. My son still waiting patiently, arms outstretched, like some blooming zen master showing up all my inadequacies.

There seemed to be a teensy bit of Halloween Grinchness going around Facebook last night. Seriously guys, from a kid's perspective, what is there not to love? Dressing up? Lollies? Wandering the streets with a gang of buddies on your own? (Or at least with a parent at a discreet distance away to give you the impression you are on your own.)
We have only been in our new neighbourhood for six months. We'd seen a few kids in the street, but not officially met many of them. Last night they came crawling out from everywhere. For my son, who can be a little shy, it was a perfect opportunity. Wearing a monster's mask, he was welcomed right into a gang of ghouls and I trailed happily behind watching them swap lollies and knock on doors with welcoming pumpkins out front.
Who cares where Halloween originally comes from and whether it's commercial or any of that other stuff - for a nine year old boy on a warm spring evening it was pure magic.

My nine-year-old son has a friend at school who invents the most incredible things. His mother tells me he is continually foraging through junk heaps and hard rubbish and sees possibility in everything. The other day, when I went to pick my son up from their house, he insisted I go into the backyard to see his friend's latest invention. I had been hearing a lot about his friend's 'treeless tree house' recently, as we have not long ago moved into a 1950s house without a single full grown tree in the garden - a constant source of despair for my youngest son, who gets antsy if he doesn't have something to climb. When he had told me that his friend had built a tree house that wasn't even in a tree, I had pictured a couple of turned over dining chairs with a sheet draped over the top. This (above photo) is what lay in wait.

As you might be able to see from the photograph, the house has been built over a wood heap and hovers perilously a good shin-breaking distance from the ground. To enter, you have to clamber over all this wood, full of rusty nails and thumb-sized splinters, to reach the ladder which takes you up to the house. The platform itself is propped up by varying lengths of wood and even a wheelbarrow, which you might see wedged in there on your left. If you were thinking this might possibly the most dangerous treehouse in history, I suspect you wouldn't be far off.

But it is also the most incredibly inventive and exciting and creative thing I have seen made by a child in a long time. This is the kind of treehouse my father would have made as a boy, the kind of treehouse I would have loved to make as a child, had I been clever enough or brave enough.  However, I have to say that for me, while this kid is quite obviously a child-genius, kudos must also go to his mum. In an era where you almost need to sign a permission form for your child to use a pair of scissors, I reckon she is a pretty fabulous mum to let her son create something like this. Apparently without even hovering around, shouting out well-meaning projections of fear in the way that I may have.

I would like to think I could be so brave...