Back home in Oz

OK, so I made it home and now have three piles of books on my bedroom floor waiting for a space on the shelves. One of my favourites is a first edition of Frieda Lawrence's Not I, But the Wind, the story of her life with DH Lawrence, which I picked up in Hay-on-Wye. I didn't explore DH Lawrence country in the end, but did find myself walking in Jane Austen's footsteps on several occasions in Dorset and Hampshire. I visited her house in Chawton and stood in awe at her writing desk, a tiny three-legged round table, where she sat after breakfast by the window. It put me to shame. It was here she wrote her best work.
On the Dorset coast, I walked along Cheshil Beach and relived the memorable story by Ian McEwan. It was only three months since I had lain in bed listening to the audiobook that McEwan recorded of On Cheshil Beach and here I was! Such an unexpected pleasure, and such a clear example of how landscapes can be immortalised in fiction or poetry. And them, in the same day, I am in Lyme Regis, the seaside resort of kings, where Jane Austen set Persuasion and where The French Lieutenant’s Woman was filmed. The author John Fowles was curator of the local museum, now flourishing and full of fossils from the local Jurassic coast, as well a displays about local writers. Among the fossil display I found a 'Cabinet of Curiosities', an absurd fantastical contraption made by my old friends Forkbeard Fantasy, a Brit theatre group I haven't seen for 25 years. So hello, guys, from me in Oz!
Yes I am back here and feeling guilty about contemplating a bigger desk to accommodate my writing needs. Think miniature, think Jane Austen.

On the road

It's been a long time between posts and now I'm snatching a few moments of Wifi access in an English B&B to pin down a fragment of life on the road, coming across writers and books in France, Scotland and England. In Paris I bought two books at the Village Voice bookshop by Mavis Gallant, who has lived in France most of her long life. I discovered her short stories recently in Australia and find her a great inspiration.
In Scotland, I caught the edge of the Edinburgh bookfest and saw Margaret Drabble talk at St Andrews, Scotland, about her new book A Writer's Britain and was caught up in her involvement with the relationship of writers to their landscape. She described coming up to St Andrews by train and the writers' locales that she travelled through. I am driving the other way, south, passing through writers' haunts and picking up books as I go. The Minster Gate bookshop in York yielded four bargains - and I never got further than the bookshelf on the stairs up to the literary section! There is still Hay-on-Wye with its thirty-plus bookshops to visit.
Now I'm in Nottinghamshire, home of DH Lawrence, where the young men speak like Paul Morel. Another shrine to worship at, as well as the great cathedral at Lincoln.

possums in the library

I have a contender for my library of books. Yes, I know I have too many to read in my lifetime, but that's no excuse for possums trying to take over the bookshelves. Three times in the past week I have woken to the scrabbling of little paws and twice to the crashing of glass - first a lamp, and then a vase. When confronted by a woman in pyjamas, the creature has calmly looked up from the bookshelf into my face and turned tail. Each time I have managed to coax her out the way she came in, through the window. Is she looking for a place to nest? Or are possums taking over the world? It seems possible in our corner of Melbourne. In that case, is she selecting suitably civilising authors: Proust, Austen or Orwell? She is still scratching at the window now it is closed.
Does any one else have possums in their library?

Performance stories

Storytelling is an author's backbone, and keeping the backbone strong is healthy for all of us writers. Twelve Australian authors were put to the challenge of telling their family stories at this weekend's launch of The Wheeler Centre for Books, Writing and Ideas in A Gala Night of Storytelling at Melbourne Town Hall. They came on to the stage, one at a time, to address the huge audience, with varying degrees of success. Some read their stories, some told them off the cuff, others performed them as comedy or song. Some struggled with the mike in this echoey auditorium. Not all writers are great readers or speakers, as we know from writers' festivals, but here was a chance to make their stories shine.

All but two of the authors stayed behind the lectern. The two who didn't were performers before they became authors. Comedian Judith Lucy used a hand-held mike for her performance. Singer Paul Kelly brought the evening to a spine-tingling close with a story sung a capella. Several others were memorable. John Safran entertained us with a Jewish story that blended humour and pathos. Shane Maloney gave us a change of mood with his dry humour and fine sense of timing. Alex Miller kept his contribution short: a powerful vignette, a lively depiction of his father, complete with Scottish brogue. Cate Kennedy, our consummate short story writer, was intimate and spontaneous, if a little rambling, as she told a story that had a perfect narrative arc and a tight ending.

The remaining writers were David Malouf, Alexis Wright, John Marsden, Chole Hooper, Christos Tsiolkas and Tara June Winch. An author who was notable for his absence was Arnold Zable, one of Melbourne's fine storytellers.

What lessons can be learned from this night of storytelling? What do we need to remember when we tell our stories aloud? What do our listeners want? As a listener, this is what I want from a storyteller: honesty, humour, a satisfying story told with rhythm, pace and variety and a voice that is a pleasure to listen to. Just as a writer redrafts and edits and makes sure the written word is ready for the world, so a storyteller can craft and practise a piece, or improve the art of impromptu storytelling aloud before stepping in front of an audience. Get familiar with the mike, get to know your voice and how best you can use it, and try stepping out from behind the lectern to connect with your audience.

I for one, relish this return to hearing our stories told aloud, and hope this night of storytelling will be the first of many such nights where authors can gain confidence in the spoken word. Poetry has its own performance scene. Prose can follow suit.

What do you think?

Pride, Prejudice and Philippe Petit

It is Jane Austen's birthday today! Happy 234th birthday! In celebration, I watched (yet again) the final part of Lost in Austen, the delicious retelling of Pride and Prejudice through the eyes of a modern Janeite living in Hammersmith. Altogether more affecting and better acted than even the best British TV series of P&P. Yes, Austen is a profound influence on my writing, along with Annie Proulx and Cate Kennedy. What a disparate bunch, all jostling for pole position in my head. My current inspiration is Colum McCann's latest novel Let the Great World Spin, a brilliantly constructed story hingeing on Philippe Petit's 1974 tight-rope walk between the twin towers. Not surprising that a great writer should take that story and run with it.  I saw Petit last year in a Q&A session after the Melbourne screening of Man on Wire, the film about his highwire walk. He could not sit still in the 'comfortable' chair, but sprang up to answer questions. His comfort zone is high in the sky, joyriding on a wire, finding ecstasy through the fine-tuning of his nerves. He keeps alive the spirit of the absurd and theatrical sixties and the romantic and serious seventies. He embodies curiosity, passion and creativity. What better inspiration for a writer!

The season of the launch

The writing studio is frighteningly quiet. But I am getting used to it,  alone with the freedom to think something through without distraction. Yesterday I went round in circles, changing point of view of a short story: from third person, to second person, to first person and back again to third! Changed a few words, ended up with same word count at the end of the day. Should I have taken the day off instead? But it was an interesting exercise, teaching me to analyse some of the inner points of language that we take for granted. Could use it in my teaching next week.

Went to launch of Cate Kennedy's first novel The World Beneath on Tuesday at the Trades Hall bar - grunge city. Buy one copy, and you got a chocolate brownie made by Cate herself, buy three copies and you got a bottle of wine. It was a fun affair, with Shane Howard singing, and friends, family and fans out in force. Cate's speech was full of humourous anecdotes, relating her writer's tales of procrastination and her friendly competition with Dan Brown. She'll be good entertainment value at writers' festivals. Go Cate!

A few friends are launching books now: Joel Magarey and Andee Jones are next off the blocks. I am aiming for mine next year!

room with a view

Still on the subject of space, have just returned from a trip across the Nullarbor Plain on the Indian Pacific train. Two nights on the top bunk, my daughter on the bottom bunk, wondering if I would fall out. I had to keep telling myself I had slept for years on the edge like this in my trucking days, so fear not. All was fine and we slept better than in our own beds at home.

When we first got into the carriage, my daughter had suffered a slight attack of claustrophobia. It was after dark, with no view outside, and we sat on the bench seat facing the blank doors of the bathroom and wardrobe. The next morning, the 'room' was transformed by the vista of sandhills at dawn and all anxiety fled as we stared out the window. A room with a view beats a windowless cell, any day. I know some writers insist on facing a blank wall, but a connection with the weather and nature keeps me sane.

I will have my room with a view of the gardens of a National Trust property tomorrow when I move into my new writing studio. Can't wait.