Everybody's faking it / Everything is possible

Thursday, October 24, 2013

1. Everybody's faking it

When I was younger I believed for a very long time that grown-ups were somehow inherently whole – that I would hit 18 and metamorphose into an Adult who Knew About Stuff and possess incredible self-assurance. I got a little bit older and realised that no-one is ever absolutely sure of themselves – that I’ll probably still be trying to work it all out for the rest of my life. And that’s okay, although disappointing to figure out after a childhood of believing in the infallibility of adults.

This is from a thing I wrote (I do that a bit, don't I? Bit of a theme, this writing thing) for Birdee mag on feeling like a huge fraud. You can read the rest, if you want.

 
2. Everything is possible

When you’re a kid, and even into your teenage years, everything is possible. Inexperience is actually a huge benefit – you are so wildly confident that the gargantuan seems quite manageable. Dedication and discipline to write are actually things I require more now than I did as a fifteen-year-old, even though I wrote just as much then – I was so absolutely consumed back then by enthusiasm to write, and for the stories I was writing. It changes a bit once it turns into a career, and you’re a good enough writer to be able to see all the flaws in your own writing. But I think there is something raw and genuine and wonderfully honest about the things young people write, even if they’re not technically the most talented and subtle of writers. I have always thought in terms of stories – and I see potential stories everywhere – so for me it was the best possible way to express myself and explore new ideas and try to imagine life from someone else’s point of view.

Here's a little guest post I wrote about my writing journey (journey makes it sound like an elaborate quest, or like I have a clue what I'm doing, so I need to think of an alternate word there) for the lovely Josefa's blog.

Things I do when I should be writing instead

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

  1. Stage imaginary interviews with myself in my head, imagining I am a Serious Writer who writes Serious Things about stuff like The Human Condition, which require in-depth literary analysis. I picture myself nodding sagely on a late-night chat show and talking about themes and my creative process. (I mainly enjoy these imaginings because in these imaginings my book is a) finished and b) brilliant.)
  2. Figure out who I am going to dedicate my next book to. (Mum, probably, if I ever finish it. Shh, don't tell her.)
  3. Figure out how many books I can write before I run out of people I love to dedicate them to. (I have worked out that it's five more, imagining that some people will have books dedicated to them in pairs, mainly because I can't dedicate a book to one of my grandparents before I dedicate one to another, and what if the book I dedicate to my pop is the last book I ever publish, and then my nan is heartbroken? We can't have that. So I have five more books, and I will have to find someone new to love by book six. Which will be my eighth overall, and if I continue at my current pace of writing and publishing - presuming I continue to manage to get books published which let's not think of the alternative! Which is clearly faking my own death and living on some remote mountaintop somewhere - will not be released until the age of 31. Twelve years to find another person to dedicate a book to. I'm feeling positive about this endeavour. Feel free to submit your applications any time between now and 2025.)
  4. Regret not using a pseudonym. (There are things I would actually like to be able to write about, but even if I wrote about them in a thickly-veiled fashion, people I know would pick it. I am very mindful of distancing my stories from my own life. There is something disconcerting about people knowing about you through your fiction.)
  5. Think about whether 'Steph Bowe' or 'Stephanie Bowe' is a more aesthetically appealing name and wonder whether it's too late to go back to being Stephanie. I do like the syllables of Steph Bowe, though. I overthink this.
  6. Wonder whether anyone will notice if I put a character in my book who is a direct replica of me and whose name is an anagram of my own (Phoebe Tawnies, anyone? It doesn't sound particularly believable, does it?).
  7. Panic because I know literally nothing about novel-writing. It seems like my mind is wiped whenever I finish a novel. Can you imagine being like this in any other profession? It would not be acceptable to be a doctor who has amnesia after every surgery.
  8. Make soup. I'm really good at cooking soup because it is literally just vegetables and water in a pot. Impossible to stuff up. I feel really accomplished when I cook a meal. The panic at the fact that I have still not finished my novel is softened by the astounding sense of self-satisfaction that cooking dinner provides.
  9. Wonder whether buying a Macbook would somehow make this writing thing easier.
  10. Stare at all my messy words in that terrifying document and urge them with my mind to become a whole and beautiful piece of art that other people will adore.
  11. Observe as nothing happens. (If I had magical powers, I would use them to write really great books. And end world hunger, and maim baddies, and prevent disasters. But, you know, priorities. Gotta finish my novel.)

Just a quick bit of narcissism

Sunday, October 13, 2013

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1. I had the pleasure of having my photo taken by the very talented Catherine Lowe, of The Grad Lab, a couple of months back. There's an interview with me, and the rest of the photos, up on her blog.
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2. You may be interested in reading my love letter to dumb phones on Birdee. Or you might not! I don't presume to know your interests. You read whatever you want to read!
 
3. Here's a photo from the signing table at Brisbane Writers Fest (photo via Novel Writing Retreats Australia, which I'm attached to a retreat with in 2014 - there's an interview with me here)! I'm sharing this with you because a) to my left there is Dr Karl, whose awesome science-y books I loved as a kid (I very successfully did not faint), and who had a much longer signing line than I; and b) to my right is the very wonderful Melissa Keil who is fabulous (and who I was on a panel with! Plus also Justine Larbalestier!) and I think we totally look like we could be sisters. Right?
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