So…catching up

A very dear friend wandered through my website and suggested I get busy and up-date it. Dear friends can do that – they see the bits of you that have fallen behind and, while you mightn’t want to hear about it, they are the only ones who have the courage to tell you.
So here I go … the website, dear things, has to wait for my webmaster to come up from the dungeon and shine a light on some of the things that I need to do.
Like:
* letting you know that I have written more books since this website went up. My most recent ones are the fabulous Princess Peony and her Adventures, One and Two in which she encounters trouble with bears and frogs and princes. My newest book, which won’t be released till next year because we’re just starting on the actual illustrations and edits and getting the pages all set up and right and ready for you to read, is going to be about D’Lila LaRue … wow, wait till you meet her. She is a real hot TOMATO!
* Next – letting you know that I am busily involved in judging work which is … gotta say … a lot of work. Reading books and reviewing them and placing them in or out of a competition is a huge responsibility and, I have to say, calls for a lot of knowledge I didn’t know I had. And, have to say this too, if there’s stuff that I didn’t know then I have to get busy and go and find out about it. Sometimes it is the layers in a book and working out how to see if they are there or not. Some books are a super-fun read and that’s great – that’s what its all about really. But some books are not only a super fun read, they have hidden meanings in them in one layer and more hidden insights in another. And, of course, the trick is that the reader doesn’t really see those little hidden bits – they don’t know about them until a light-bulb moment when they smile or say ‘ah’ because, gee, now they get it – or they get something they didn’t know before.
Next – letting you know that I have been undertaking illustration courses as I’m intending to illustrate my own picture book. At the moment there are two of them that I’m struggling with – one about a pink pig and another about a lonely boy. I love them both and they are both so different, and so tricky, that I sometimes simply throw my hands in the air and go back to just writing. I have a ghost story about an island in the middle of a river where strange, dreadful things happen and its not the ghost that gets blamed.

Finally I have managed to collect short lists and awards that have not been entered on the website. There’s the White Raven (for My Silent World, and The Smallest Bilby) and short list for Speech Therapists with Princess Peony First Adventures (Princess Peony has been pulled out of the CBCA because I am judging this year and, you know, it wouldn’t really be fair) – I am very grateful to Lucinda Gifford, Princess P’s illustrator, for agreeing to let her slip by for a year. Long listed with The Prime Ministers’ for The Innocents which is a bit of a hit, I must say … and that’s about all of them. Hope more roll in … I do like a good award now and then.

So, dear things, when I am not writing or drawing or judging or writing reviews or preparing for a wonderful work-shop that is going to be held in Brisbane in March … it’ll be a good one and I’ll write more about it soon – I am going to be working on my web-site … adding a few more facts and maybe, just maybe, an updated photo or two …

Arfie and Ben and the very Tired Bunny – Chapter 3

So, I’m hoping you’re still with me and this time our two wee terriers have brought a smile to your face (even though you know you shouldn’t). Sadly, the rest of my site is looking a bit like a history lesson as I haven’t been in do any updating there – its also a serial and will happen when the Arfie and Ben chapters have finished.

Chapter Three.

 They dug a very big hole so Armi could leap right out. 

 He didn’t.

‘He’s not waking up, is he Ben.’ Arfie peered into the hole. He leaned closer to the rabbit’s ear.. ‘Wake up, Armidale.’

Armidale didn’t. 

‘Lazy things, rabbits.’ Ben said. ‘Always were.’

Arfie and Ben sat down. The day was ending very fast and soon the moon would be out but Armidale stayed put. 

‘I’ll help him.’ Arfie said. ‘He probably just needs a bit of a push.’

‘And a tug.’ Ben said. ‘Rabbits are best pulled not pushed.’

Soon Armidale was stretched out on the lawn. The day was very nearly not and the grass was wet with dew damp. Arfie shivered and so did Ben but Armidale stayed perfectly still.

‘He a good sleeper, isn’t he, Ben.’

Ben moved closer. ‘They live in dark burrows. ‘Spect they don’t know how to wake up fast.’

Arfie sniffed. ‘He’s a bit smelly.’ 

‘Always are.’ Said Ben. ‘Never knew one that wasn’t. Furry smell. Things get caught in it.’

‘What things?’ Arfie looked closer.

‘Twigs and leaves and dirt and bits of old poo.’

Arfie stepped back. ‘He is a bit grubby. Can’t see any poos but there’s lots of dirt. It’s in his ears. Look.’

Ben didn’t. ‘’Spect that why he didn’t wake up.’ 

Arfie blew a little bit of dirt from an ear. ‘Wake up!’ He gave him a gentle push. Armidale slept on.

‘He’ll be hungry, won’t he Ben?’’ Arfie looked at the dark sky and the streetlights that shone across the path. ‘I’m hungry too.’

Ben walked across the back yard and to the end of the driveway. ‘And there’s no sign of her with any rabbit food.’ Ben sighed a deep sigh as he ambled back. ‘’Spect we’ll have to take him with us.’

‘He’ll probably wake up when he smells his food.’ Arfie said. ‘Come on Armidale.’

Armidale didn’t so Ben gently tugged him by his ears and Arfie pushed the bits that weren’t too dirty. He was already a bit soggy from dampish rabbit fur. Some of it was coming out in his mouth. 

‘He’s heavy for an old rabbit, isn’t he?’ He puffed when he stopped to spit out some dirt. 

Ben pulled a teensy bit harder and then sat down. ‘His neck’s the problem. Rabbit’s necks are always a bit stretchy. Make them hard to move.’

‘And wake up.’ Agreed Arfie as they once more pulled and pushed, and nipped and tucked to get Armidale up the back steps and into the kitchen.

They’d just put him down on the lino-tiled floor when Mrs Balfour screamed.. 

Arfie barked and Ben ran around the kitchen. ‘It’ll be a cockroach.’ He said.

But Mrs Balfour wasn’t reaching for the cockroach spray. She was reaching for two smallish white terriers. ‘You bad bad dogs!’ Oh, her voice was so loud. ‘Bad, wicked nasty dogs!’

She dumped them in their baskets and ran into the laundry.

‘Spect it’s our footprints.’ Ben said. 

‘And Armi’s fur. It’s left dirt all over the floor.’

He peered out to look at the sleeping rabbit. ‘Guess what?’

Ben lifted his head from his paws. It was hard work heaving a snoozy rabbit across a road. ‘What?’

‘One of his eyes is open!’ 

Ben rested down. The house was warm and cosy after the chilly backyard over the road. His tummy was empty and that wasn’t good. She’d feed them soon and the best way to get there was to sleep. ‘Spect her scream surprised him.’

Arfie snuggled down. ‘Closed now.’ He said. ‘She’s closed it.’

Ben said nothing.

‘Why’d she close it again, Ben. He can’t eat his dinner if he’s sleeping.’

Ben still said nothing.

‘Bit silly if you ask me.’ Arfie mumbled. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit silly, Ben?”

Chapter Two: Arfie and Ben and the Very Tired Bunny

A couple of cheekies tried to guess where this was going and … well … you came close which I put down to good writing (and smart readers). So, enjoy the next one – hope it makes you smile. I’m a bit sad that it changes where the paragraphs are – message in that for all the younger readers – it makes you read in a monotone. I bunged in a few to get those voices lifted a bit.

Chapter Two

Later, when Arfie and Ben returned from their walk with Mrs Balfour, they were surprised to see the Addison’s setting off in their caravan.

‘’pect it’ll be up to us to look after the rabbit.’ Said Ben.

‘Good.’ Said Arfie. ‘I like old Armidale.’

‘He’s slow for a rabbit.’ Said Ben. ‘Makes our dinner late.’

‘Does it?’ Arfie squished his eyebrows together to make a frown. Sometimes it helped.

‘Mrs Balfour likes to make sure he eats all his pellets before she gives him a cuddle.’

‘And us.’ Said Arfie. ‘She cuddles us too.’

‘Cuddling Armidale makes our dinner late.’

‘Oh.’ Said Ben.

‘We can go and keep him company.’ Said Ben. ‘That way she’ll come over early to fetch us home.’

Ben was so clever. Arfie gave him a big lick and a bounce and a double-quick snip as they set off over the road.

And that was when they saw another strange thing.

The hutch was empty. The door was shut. The straw was all soft and yellow and the blanky was still curled around waiting for a rabbit to fit into it.

‘Must be in his burrow.’ Said Ben.

Arfie bounced across the soft soil. He bounced three times. ‘Wake up Armi!’

Armidale didn’t. At least he didn’t push his ears up and then his nose and his eyes and his big floppy feet to say he was awake.

‘Probably tired.’ Said Ben. ‘Rabbits get tired in their burrows.’

‘Do they?’ Arfie scratched about looking for a way in. He stuck his nose into the dirt. ‘Come on, Armi.’

Armi didn’t. The ground stayed still and the sun started to sink a little.

‘He’ll come out when he’s hungry.’ Ben said. And sat down.

Arfie sat down too but it was cold sitting in a backyard when the night time was coming.

He scratched a little hole in the burrow.

‘Our dinner will be late.’ He said.

‘Just like I expected. Always is when She’s feeding Armidale.’

Arnie squished his eyes tight. He had a new think. ‘How will Mrs Balfour find him if he’s sleeping in the bottom of his burrow?’

‘A good question.’ Said Ben.

Arfie waited.

‘Seems to me we should fetch him out.’ Ben wandered over to the burrow. ‘She’ll never see him in there.”

Arfie nodded. ‘I’ll get him.’

Arfie was good at digging. Mrs Balfour said he was so good at it that she’d have to give him away to a mining company.  Arfie stopped making quite so many holes. He didn’t want to live with a mining company, whatever that was.

‘Good idea’ He said.

Arfie dug as hard and as fast as he could.

Ben helped just in case Arfie made a mistake.

The Serialised Story of Arfie and Ben and The Very Tired Bunny

This is the very first chapter – for adults, its a bittersweet/black humour story that might appeal to your darker senses. For kids – well, I wrote it and thought you might like it but now … gee, I’m not sure. I think there’s a bit of sadness there that I should fix. However, I’m pretty happy to hear your thoughts. I can promise you, its not for little kids.

ARFIE AND BEN AND THE VERY TIRED BUNNY

A text for younger readers by

Nette HILTON

Chapter One.

Arfie and Ben lived with Mrs Balfour. They lived next door to Thomas the Cat and over the road from the Addisons’ elderly rabbit, Armidale. Down the road there were the Chevron’s dogs and Rami’s cats, Mick’s budgies and goldfish, and Bloger’s snake who lived in a glass cage.

Everyday Arfie and Ben went out into the neighbourhood to see what they could discover. Sometimes Next-door’s Thomas needed a quick bark to get him into the day or a sudden helter-skelter to make him leap the fence. He was splendid in flight. Arfie and Ben were always impressed.

One day when they popped over to check on Armidale they saw a strange thing happening. Mrs and Mrs Addison were putting Armidale in a hole in the ground.

‘It’s a burrow.’ Said Ben who knew a lot about everything. ‘Rabbits live in burrows.’

‘Even when they’re sleeping?’ Said Alfie as the Addison’s put some soil on top and patted it down gently.

‘Especially when they’re sleeping. Keeps them safe.’

Arfie wasn’t sure he’d like to sleep in a hole with dirt on top. He wandered over to check Armidale’s hutch. There was food in his bowl, straw on the ground and even a nice little blanky near the door. ‘Bet he’d rather sleep here.’

Ben said you never can tell with rabbits and it wasn’t for them to say anyway, so they set off to see if Mrs Balfour had left something special on their dinner plates.

The Mad Hatter and The Easter Vibe.

So, in Sydney this weekend there is a Mad Hatter’s Tea Party which, sadly, is too far for me to attend but the lovely, wonderful Mr Billy Bilby will be there representing me. I thought, as I can’t be there to chat about the Billy Bilby’s actual story, I might just do it here.

First things first. The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party is on at Sir Stamford at the Quay on Saturday 15th April 11am – 2pm Certainly looks like fun. If you can get there I’m sure you wouldn’t be disappointed.

And now, to Billy Bilby. He began in 2001 with a phone call from my agent, Brian Cook. We discussed the likelihood of developing books and stories about a Bilby becoming the Easter Bunny. The idea had been first mooted to Brian when he was Children’s publisher at Harpercollins by Rosemary Dusting who had always been interested in the idea. From this small acorn we began our work. Several ideas were thrown around, not the least being my favourite which was a ‘Watership Down’ type of story with the Bilbies being threatened by foxes and rabbits and feral cats (the lovely Swayne, the biggest feral with the messiest fur featured in this manuscript). I just loved it. Billy was found by the Ancients who dragged him around in a felt slipper that had been salvaged from a garbage dump until they had to leave him to find his own way. He was the one chosen to save all the Bilbies from extinction.

I really did love it. It made me laugh. The Ancients were glorious and – you know it. Publishers said …. oh, well its about bilbies. Big kids don’t like bilbies so it can’t be a novel. It has to be a picture book.

Fine. So into a picture book we had to fit an Easter message (as Easter is a Christian celebration and to have a bilby become the Easter bunny we sorta had to have an Easter connection), danger in terms of cats, and foxes and rabbits and eggs. Of  course, eggs aren’t dangerous but if you have an Easter Bilby you have to have Easter eggs. It was a big ask, let me tell you.

So, after many failed attempts the story of The Smallest Bilby and The Midnight Star emerged. It is a story of love and faith and teamwork. And it just so happened to fit into an Easter theme. I  sighed a sigh of relief, Billy went on to become a White Raven, which is a special award he received in Bologna and we busied ourselves preparing a lovely colouring book and an activity book about Billy and his mates.

Many more failed attempts eventually led to The Smallest Bilby and the Easter Games . Bruce Whatley did the most wonderful artwork for this book – I still laugh at the animals all trying to be fluffy –  and have loved playing Giant’s treasure with lots and lots of littlies in schools because this is where the idea came from.

Finally, and this one took so long I thought I might explode, the final book was finished, The Smallest Bilby and the Easter Tale. Jane Covernton, the publisher and I had many, many, many conversations about how these eggs were going to be delivered. My favourite idea was with a mad cat who kept being splattered whenever he tried to catch a bilby. Jane was a bit horrified and said, in a rather firm voice, I recall, that the cat was way tooooo scary. (Incidentally, the first cover was also dismissed as it was considered too fearful for small readers – and this was a bit of a conundrum as it was to be the cover on the novel – so not for small readers but … do big kids really want to read stories about Bilby wars?)

Billy was tested in his own little movie and was great. I really wish I had a copy as it was nearly good enough for ABC but not quite. A big shame! He did get to be his own little plushie though. A truly sweet little guy.

All up it took eleven years to get Billy Bilby sorted. I still have folders and folders of stories developed for him which might, one day, become stories for another. Just between you and me I ‘m thinking Arfie and Ben might like some of the adventures and they’re not bilbies at all. In fact, they’re my newest fun thing discovered in a pattern on textured tiles in my bathroom. There they were, two little Westies, standing together, captured in the shadow of the late afternoon sun and just waiting for me to notice them. I guess, if you asked me where did the idea for their stories come from I’d have to say … well, part of it came from The Smallest Bilby, little Bill.

Have a wonderful Easter. I hope its peaceful and joyous, gentle and restful and all the things you want it to be. Oh, and remember there’s no such thing as too many chocolates.

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times.

So, we have finally had the CBCA Notables List announced and I’ve had to experience the delight of having read so many fabulous books for younger readers and the disappointment of knowing so many authors and illustrators are feeling disappointed and – if they’re like me – full of spite and despair and homicidal/suicidal thoughts. It has been a double edged sword.

To begin with it was a hoot – lots of books, lots of covers to consider, lots of notes and ticks and crosses. By the time we have surfaced from the twelve month journey I must say I was ready to get my head down in a good old ‘who-dun-it’ for adults. Even now, as I sit here writing this I’m aware that there is a list of to-do waiting in the inbox for me – we are not finished yet, not by a long shot. But this blog is not about my journey. I wanted this blog to be the one that soothes troubled authors and reassures them that their work, their books, their ideas and plots and hard work are not simply written off.

I am not a lover of competition. I have failed many more than I’ve even won but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to be the one that gets the accolades. I can still remember Joanne Horniman and I sitting having coffee when the short list was announced and WE WEREN’T THERE! How could that be? How could OUR books that were so honest, so deep and so bloody worthy miss out? Well, they did. There was no magic salve to stop the hurt so we simply decided the judges were nuts, not well qualified enough to sit in judgement of such obviously well written tomes and sulked for quite a while. I accept that many authors are now deciding this about me and the other judges. Honestly we did our best within the guides and criteria that shapes CBCA winners.

Authors write as they write – as do illustrators. I could no more write a series than fly to the moon in spite of filling many, many boxes and pages with ideas and attempts. I wish I could – believe me, it would pay a lot more than having a one-of that done good! I am in awe of the trials and tribulations of all the the characters who are strong enough to appear in book after book after book. I am equally in awe of books that can fictionalise real events and make them into stories that are page-turners. I love adventures where things happen! I think I’m saying that books that didn’t make this list sure as hell are making others. So, please – if you didn’t get there this time give yourself a giant pat of the back for lining up and taking a chance – and line up again next year.

We march on towards more excitement and more heartbreak – so buckle up! And if you’re not on the next list please don’t hate me too much – we’re doing the best we can – just like you are.

Me and the Laureate!

If you could have seen me last night! Standing there, chin up, chest out beside the hugely famous Children’s Laureate, Mr Leigh Hobbs, keeper of Mr Chicken and Old Tom and Mr Badger and all those wonderfully glorious 4F freaky kids,  you would have been proud. I didn’t do anything wrong – well, just one smallish thing.

You know how sometimes it is possible to get one person mixed up with another? And you know how you finally pluck up courage to say hello and then its the wrong one! You know that feeling? Well, that’s what I did and to make matters worse, it was the author of one of my favourite books. Mmmmm-mmm. I have to tell you that ‘The Ratcatcher’s Daughter had me glued to my seat (well, bed as I like to read in bed) – not only but also, it became Ronaldo Hilton’s favourite as well and I had to finally steal it from his bedside-table to take it back to the library. I would have kept it longer if I’d known I was going to meet Pamela Rushby, who wrote it! And I insulted her by calling her the wrong name! Oh, Pamela, I gave myself such a beating when I got home but . . . in my own defense . . . I have to say I really do call you Pamela and not Pam – you tricked me momentarily. And Pamela does sound like Cheryl – doesn’t it? I promise I won’t do it again.

So, onward I went to see if I could make it for the rest of the night without another blooper, and there he was, the Laureate. Now I have to say that we go back a long time – him and me. I first met The Laureate when he was merely an author at a very spooky house in Ipswich. We were the first Ipswich Children’s Writer’s Festival (1997) – me and Leigh and Anne James and Brian Caswell (who tried to teach us to play tennis properly) – we were visited by equally famous Gary Crew and cared for by a good cook and her hubby and the ghosts of times past. I’m not joking, it was the scariest place in the world and we were in it and to prove it, the Laureate tested himself by walking through the corridors alone, at night. He walked and then he ran. I walked too, but only as I approached the building then I ran. It was like that scene in ‘The Shining’ when the little boy looks down that long corridor and then rides his tricycle along it. He was a whole lot braver than us.

But, back to last night. How brilliant it was to hear someone speak about the contribution made by librarians and school libraries. Equally wonderful to be included as a contributor were the creators – the authors and illustrators who plow away trying to keep our own culture and thoughts and understandings and stories going. The night, however, clearly belonged to the teachers and librarians and their libraries- and Leigh made sure they knew it. It belonged to the kids, too, even though they weren’t there. We heard wonderful stories about how cleverly children can read a space left in a good illustration. As an additional bonus we were all given insight into how a line here, and a dot there, can relay so much in an artwork or illustration.

To prove it, ho-hum, Ronaldo and I have our own versions of Old Tom.

A Week In The Mountains or How Come I Could Do It Then and Not Now!

I have just returned from the most wonderful week in the Blue Mountains staying at Margaret Hamilton’s Pinerolo learning to be an illustrator. I actually WON this opportunity for my latest  picture book idea that I submitted to Margaret who loved it… and so my newest journey began.

Not the journey to the mountains. That was exciting as well. My first trip in my new second hand camper – didn’t sleep in it. Trust me, sleeping out in the Blue Mountains is for the birds and they’d be furry ones at that. I carried with me all the tools of my new trade, paints, paint brushes, pencils, erasers (lots of them), paper, scissors, glue, books that I love that I use for my guide (lots of them) and…ambition.

Margaret and Max greeted me and didn’t even look startled as I unloaded the camper and filled their lovely studio. Oh, that studio is to die for… every wall, every space is adorned with original artworks and, as the week went by, I grew more and more awestruck at the talent of our kids’ book illustrators. How did Patricia Mullins get that eyeball in exactly the right place? How did Dee Huxley get that wonderful orange and the sense of longing with so few lines? How did Stephen Axelsen fit all that together so it looks good? And how did Stephen Michael King get that blue? Margaret, who promised she hadn’t noticed the lights going on and off as I helter-skeltered from one artwork to the other trying to find the #@$! S.M.K’s blue hidden in the four thousand tubes of blue that I had, called in Helen the Water Colourist. Oh, thank you Margaret, and thank you Helen. What a wonderful opportunity to sit and listen to someone break down the colour code, to have someone open a book and talk about the way the artist has added another dimension by adding the complement of a colour (oh, joy – so many many many things to learn).

My newest picture book, which will probably be published when I’m ninety, has all sorts of added extras – as you’d expect from someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Margaret, again, (what a wonderful woman), didn’t get fazed – she called in Victoria, the expert designer and publisher in her own right, to suggest ways we could include my fantastic ideas in this book. And you know what? Not only did I learn heaps about books and printing and layout, I also learned how to learn without giving up – the top requirement – a good teacher. Victoria was enthusiastic and excited and a great listener when I read the story aloud (more on this later). Eventhough she could see the difficulties of what I am intending to do, she didn’t simply shrug her shoulders and suggest that it wouldn’t work. This is the best, best way to learn. If it harder to accomplish, then work harder because it will be so much more worthwhile – think of all the things you learn on the way, think of the problems you’ve created that only you can solve (given the help and support of someone who believes in you). And isn’t that the secret… you can do anything if someone believes in you.

So, tips from Margaret that I’ll share with you. Tip Number 1 – when you write a story you have to read it aloud to as many people as you can (tie them to a chair if necessary). Tip Number 2 – learn the craft of your work. This isn’t the story and the lovely ideas you have. Its the absolute ‘how a book is made’ from the first fold up. Learn the words you need to know – gutter (thank-you Brian),  die (not me, that way books are folded – I think – oops, need to check spelling but I know what I mean), dummy book, story board, paper engineering, technicians – the list goes on but the more I learnt the more I was informed about what might make my book work. Easy to suggest I’d like a fake invitation stuck in but hey, did I even think about how that would happen? Someone actually does it! I mean, how much does this add to the cost of bookmaking and…there’s another thing I began to learn. How much a plan for a book is dependent on how much it is going to cost to produce it. And another thing, sometimes books just can’t be produced – they are technically impossible. Now I understand how my ‘Bear Book’ didn’t work. Doesn’t make me happy but at least I know why it wasn’t possible.

At home again I am sitting surrounded by paints and paper and inks and brushes. I’m at the start of my new learning – one thing always sets off another, doesn’t it. My incredible achievements with Margaret’s tuition are staring at me and encouraging me to push on… even when I’m feeling overcome by the prospect of the whole journey. And that, I think, is the secret of my week in Pinerolo – you learn that the longest, hardest journey starts off small – a step at a time – one scribbled line on one blank page and then another. One colour and then another and, when that messes up, you just stand still for a bit and then take another step in a slightly different direction – a small one. That way you don’t have so far to find your way forward again.

Thank you Margaret. And Pinerolo.

And Brian, who listened to my excited babble when I discovered that I could, I had, I did make a picture board!!!!

From a couple of scratchy drawings to a completed storyboard – shows what a residency can do – especially one in the mountains with Margaret!

Back to school.

It’s time, I thought this morning when I woke up, to say thank-you to the schools who have made me feel so special. I have had a fantastic year – as I have every year – going into schools to run workshops and have talks and share books and any number of other things…. my goodness, this year I met Lucia The Lionheart! Wow – she impressed us all so much I think she needs a book of her own – she wrote a book for me and she’s promised to finish it – didn’t you Lucia? I’m waiting for it to land in my letter box – and I mean the one out the front waiting for the postie.

And, just to take a sideways detour, isn’t that something that I think we could revive. I love getting realio-trulio letters in the letter box. I love envelopes that someone has decorated or stuck little stickers on with their addresses on the back. I love opening them up and finding someone’s writing….their actual writing… with little hearts for dots on top of the ‘i’ and swirlies on the tails of the ‘y’. It says a lot about the person who’s writing, don’t you reckon. One of the things that I often am asked in schools is ‘when did you start writing?’ Hard question to answer – I know that it means ‘when did you start actually writing books’ but the other one is better. I think my writing and story telling grew out of the letters I used to share with my grandmother, Rene. We never called her Nan or Gran – she was Rene and she had, without a doubt, the best letters in the world. She’d actually make me laugh out loud – mad things like the one with Mum’s pumpkin vine story I’ll never forget. Even more special… and I know some people haven’t even had this happen yet – was when she’d put a photo in with her letter, or a knitted scarf – they were always a bit wonky but great colours (she used to unpick old jumpers and knit them into other things – made the wool all wobbly as well). So, if you’re bored and sitting and wondering how to make the world a happier place write somebody an actual letter. Go and decorate a bit of paper, make a card, make some origami folds and write, write, write a letter. Who can you send it to….ME!!!! Or a friend (they’ll get a surprise) or another author or your gran or Nan or Pop or Dad or Mum or teacher …. or the Prime Minister – trust me, they all love to feel wanted and cared about and that’s what letters do!

So, back to schools and libraries… this year I’ve been to Tweed Heads where we made like Bilbies. In fact, if you go onto Tweed Heads Library facebook site (www.rtrl.nsw.gov.au), and search my name you’ll find me – I think I might have been doing a dead wombat when the photo was taken. St Andrews West Morton was next – its an old favourite because I have been there every year and had some great, great times with the students. Now, I meet students who are tall and elegant and handsome and taller than me who were working with me in Year 3 – how brilliant that they were waiting to say hello when I arrived. Pretty good, Westmac (www.wmac.com.au) – and how about the wonderful books you’ve made and all those fantastic posters in your library. Next Tamworth – and I heard all about boot-scooting and how wearing a hat makes you a great dancer…I’m gonna try it! Our choir teacher says it helps to hit the high notes  if you put your finger on top of your head – bit like hats on heads when you’re trying to make your feet go sideways I guess.

And now to Orange – Kincross Wolaroi (www.kws.nsw.edu.au). I had never been to Orange and flying there in a little plane with actual propellers – I kept my eye on them to make sure they kept turning – was sooo exciting. All foggy in the valleys and sun trying to melt it… yum. And then autumn leaves. Red and redder and brownish-crimsons and, again, the good old sun peeking through grey clouds  just long enough to remind me how beautiful our dear old planet is. Lots of rain then – and thunder and lovely, luscious cold. Boy, when you live in a place where there are only two seasons – hot and wet – you really like a bit of cold breeze to stir you up. MMmmmmm. Not only but also – I got to work with the wonderful artist Gaye Chapman who does the yummiest illustrations – and I can’t find her website for you…Gaye? I put in ‘Little Blue’s’ website – and the incredible West Tigers Fan Oliver Phommavanh who just happens to be a pretty incredible writer as well… Wow!!! Talk about name dropping!

Next I’m warming up for McKay – and that’ll be something different again. I have never been there and I love trying to imagine what it will be like. I know I could google it… but hey, won’t that take away the surprise I get when I’m flying along gazing down and I see…what? What is going to make McKay outstanding…I can’t wait.

A little bit on the end – I have only managed to include this year’s schools – every year I’m lucky enough to head out into the most incredible schools and have fun. It’s great and I apologize for taking so long to say thank-you to you all. Oh, and in case you think I’ve forgotten I will list some of the things that I’ve met in your playgrounds – a huge, long enormous red scarf (The Long Red Scarf), and lovely blue river that beckoned me to it with little bare feet until I was reminded that actual crocodiles lived there, a fairy land of lights in the middle of the desert, and a lake where a mine used to be and it also had little crocodiles – the fresh water kind. What else, a brown snake slithering along in front of a teacher’s broom who was hurrying it back into the bush (I didn’t walk on that side of the school AT ALL), a school when I was late – the only time – and when I arrived the whole assembly cheered. I blushed. Little children being kangaroos and big kids being cool… and always, in every place, smiles! Aaaah, the best memory of all!

PS An update….I am now going to be an illustrator! True! I’m going to work for an entire week on my new book – Fox and Hen – a love story – at Pinerolo (www.pinerolo.com.au) with Margaret Hamilton. I can’t believe it – just wait until I’m there and I’ll tell you all about it… every bit – even me in being nervous about how on earth am I going to do this…more soon.

For Greg

Greg Rogers was my friend. He was the sort of friend who laughed, grizzled, shared secrets and gossip and, most of all, was there. We didn’t get together very often but it didn’t seem to matter. He was always ready to pick up where we left off … and I will miss him. He was the face I’d look for at gatherings – if Greg was there, I’d know it was going to be fun.  I don’t think I was the only one… so often I’d hear ‘Greg will be there’ …

And now he’s not going to be there again.

I wanted to write so much in this space but, for the first time in a long time, it is really difficult to find exactly what I want to say. That I am grateful to having known him…that I am grateful for his faith in me… that I am grateful for the wonderful work he did …. that I am grateful for his willingness to support my efforts ….

Mostly I think I want to make sure that, for a short time, the world is a little sadder for having lost such a wonderful storyteller, artist and illustrator. In every library – in schools and towns and cities all over the world, in galleries and bookshops there has always been a Greg Rogers book. And there was always the promise of another … an expectation that something this good could never dry up.

I guess I just want you to think about that.  They’re quiet achievers, artists like Greg, and they can slip away from us unnoticed until one day, when you want another Rogers book to read, you discover there is no more… not another Midsummer Night, or Bears and Boys and Bards. It was one of my favourites – The Boy, The Bear, The Baron, The Bard – and I used it in a publicity photo. Someone asked me why I hadn’t used one of  my own books – I think I liked Greg’s book  better than mine. I know I love that bear to bits!

So, to celebrate Greg’s life and to make sure you spent a moment, like I am, thinking especially about him, how about finding his books in your library… how about making a display that says ‘Greg was here.’

Yep… Greg was here and last week he slipped away.

I wish he could have stayed longer.