The Sequin Star by Belinda Murrell

Over the last few years I have enjoyed discovering Australian writers and one who has captured my attention is Belinda Murrell. She has written a number of brilliant junior fiction novels mainly for girls where she combines historical events in ways that capture the imagination and make learning Australian history fun. Not growing up in Australia or learning Australian history at school I have discovered so much from her books. Murrell has also written a children’s fantasy series that I’m enjoying at the moment.

The Sequin Star

by Belinda Murrell

The Sequin Star is a fun timeslip novel about a modern day teenager experiencing life in the 1930s. The Depression years in Australia were anything but amusing and yet there were those who tried to alleviate the struggle at least for a short time.

In the present day Claire is struggling with her life; her parents are strict and she isn’t sure that she wants to continue with her ballet lessons. Maybe it would be more exciting to hang out with her friends. Claire finds a mysterious star brooch amongst her wealthy grandmother’s possessions and wonders why she keeps such a tattered, obviously fake and cheap piece when most of the jewels she owns are exquisite gemstones.

The brooch transports Claire to 1932 where she meets a troop of circus performers. The mysterious Princess Rosina of Romani and cheerful Jem take her under their wing and introduce her to a menagerie of circus animals. They also meet sophisticated Kit, son of a wealthy businessman.  

Claire witnesses the opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. She celebrates famous Australian racehorse Phar Lap winning the world’s richest horse race. And sees first had the difficulties of life during the depression when tens of thousands lost their jobs. Families were evicted from their homes and forced to live in shantytowns.

Claire’s life in the 1930s is complicated enough with the uncertainty of whether she will ever get home but the mystery deepens as she begins to wonder if she has a far greater connection to Princess Rosina and Kit than just friendship. The chance to perform in the ring under the big top, a kidnapping and a circus fire all add to the exciting adventures Claire has with her friends.

The book is so entertaining and packed with interesting historical facts that bring the past to life. The book is perfect for kids aged 9-13.

Have fun reading!

Binny Keeps a Secret by Hilary McKay

What can I say about Hilary McKay? She writes beautiful books that are so funny and tender hearted. I was first introduced to Hilary McKay novels while I was doing a writer’s course and I’ve tried to get my hands on as many as possible. The Casson Family series is beautiful and I highly recommend it. 

In this post, I’m going to talk about another McKay novel that I found so hard to put down once I started it.

Binny Keeps a Secret by Hilary McKay 

Binny has a problem, she sees things that no one else does, particularly things that get her into trouble.  

Binny’s family have just moved to a new town. Binny is stuck in the middle. She bares little resemblance to her lovely mother, beautiful older sister Clem and younger brother James, who is so gorgeous he has to tell people not to kiss him as soon as they says hello.

Flung into a new town, new home and new school Binny is awkward and shy. She puts her foot in her mouth so many times that after the first day of school everybody hates her and she’s resolved that homeschooling is the only option.

When a freak storm blows the roof off their new house Binny’s family moves into an old family estate. Binny discovers a secret. A secret that she has too keep or else it might just disappear.

One hundred years before Binny is even thought of live Rupert, Peter and Clarry. Every summer holiday the cousins converge on their grandparent’s cottage. One year they decide to make a natural history museum. Rupert is fast growing up and wanting to do anything but be at school, Peter thinks he will die if he is sent to board school and Clarry just wishes everything would stay as it is.

The past and present converge as events from 1913 affect the present.

Hilary McKay is a brilliant writer. She does such an incredible job of portraying family life in a hilariously poignant way.

This book is great for 9-13 year olds as well as adults who love a good children’s book.

Happy reading!

Read, Read, Read

I have been told that one of the best ways to become a good writer is to read and read and read and
read. Well, anyone who knows me knows that I love reading!

So, I’ve decided to share some of the beautiful books that I have been reading. Hopefully it will be a benefit to someone who might be looking for good books to read and also to help me with my writing.

The first thing you’ll notice about my reading list is that most of them are children’s books. Probably, the most obvious reason for this is because I write children’s books. I also know children’s books can be brilliant.

Madeline L’Engle, who wrote ‘A Wrinkle in Time’ said, “If the book is too difficult for grown-ups then you write it for children.”

Of course, not all children’s books are worth reading or writing about but I hope to share some of the books that are, in my little and very biased opinion, gems.

I’ll start with a book that I randomly picked up at the library and absolutely loved.

The Penderwicks by Jeanne Birdsall

 

The Penderwicks are lost, they are on their way to a new holiday destination and their beloved dog, Hound has eaten the map.
This beautiful novel about the adventures of four sisters one summer holiday will have you nestling down and getting lost in their world.
The Penderwick girls are as different to each other as the four seasons. Rosalind, the eldest feels it is her duty to care for everyone in the family, particularly her four-year old sister Batty. Batty was born a couple of days before the girl’s mother died of cancer and Rosalind was given special care of her baby sister. Sky, who comes after Rosalind has her head entirely in the mathematical cloud that surrounds her. Jane can think about only one thing, the story she’s writing. As different as the girls are, their loyalty to their family comes first.
When they have to change their holiday plans at the last minute the family sets off to a little holiday cottage in the mountains. What they find there is a grand mansion with sprawling gardens, runaway rabbits, grumpy bulls and a boy whose life they help change forever. Now if they can only steer clear of Mrs Tifton and rescue poor Jeffery, the summer will be perfect.
The Penderwicks is a hilarious, gentle, heart-lifting story. It will delight readers from ages 8-12 and adults. If you love it, you’ll be thrilled to know that it’s the first in a series of five.

Bleeding into My Story

When I started to write my first children’s novel I deliberately tried not to write my story. This was difficult because I was writing quite an intimate novel about alopecia, a condition I have lived with most of my life. I valiantly placed the story in a completely different setting, different age, family, school, friends— everything was different.

But I found as I wrote that the story somehow continued to parallel with mine. No matter how I tried to make it different the heart of the story beat in time with mine. As I grew in understanding of my characters and their emotions and life experiences it became clearer that it was in fact my story. Even the names that I had chosen for my characters reflected mine, which was a bit scary to realise.

I’m writing my second children’s novel now. It’s a fantasy and a friend commented that this one would be pure fiction. As a fantasy novel it immediately marks itself outside of the realm of reality.

However, as I’ve started to write and get to know my characters I realise that once again, I’m bleeding into my story. The emotions, choices, and character traits— all of these deeper aspects of a story continue to circle around and cause me to look at myself and my own life, to dig into how I feel and what I’ve learnt.

Yes, it is a fantasy but fantasies tend to reflect reality. In fact they can do so in a deeper way than real to life stories. Fantasies have the freedom to explore scenarios and topics where a real to life story might be constrained by culture, religion or social norms.

There is an old adage that says, ‘write what you know’. In my experience this tends to happen subconsciously. I don’t set out to write my story and yet through the process of writing it turns out that I do.

The Scenic Route

In my limited experience I have found that very rarely do things work out to be a straightforward A to B. Usually we are taken on the scenic route and it’s not until we gain some hindsight that the scenic route of life looks even remotely good.

The straight wide highway appears so easy and smooth and definitely the most convenient and proficient. We can see the finish line and we haven’t even started. It’s where we want to be right now.

The scenic route, well who would ever choose to go there? Sure you take it on holidays, but life is not a vacation. The scenic route takes three times as long it has a gazillion detours and lookouts. It’s bumpy and windy and quite frankly can make you sick.

It can also be the most beautiful and allows for the change, which has to take place before we reach our destination. If we get to the end and we aren’t ready what’s the use of the quickest route?

Almost Christmas.

It’s scorching; the curtains douse the sun streaming in through the sliding doors. I pour an iced-coffee to stem my headache and make sure the boys have water nearby. Husband takes a gulp of his chilled apple cider, and then places it in the condensation puddle.

The room is filled with Christmas music overflowing with joy, hope and that thrill of expectation. Husband sets up the tree as excited as our young boys to be finally decorating it.

I’m wrapped in twinkle lights trying to calculate how much of each string needs to go on branches weaving up to the top.

Taking out the Christmas decorations one by one, carefully unwrapping them and hoping that the fragile ones don’t drop onto the tiles from over eager four-year-old bouncing to help. One decoration is so old I can’t remember when I got it, a gift from a lifetime ago. Stars cut out of cardboard with coloured paper glued over top from our first Christmas at Rumginae. We didn’t have our decorations or even a tree. A cinnamon wood angel that fills the house with a scent that’s warm and filled with mouth-watering promises. Decorations that come from all over the world a reminder that Christmas is celebrated everywhere in different ways. Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus made out of wooden clothes pegs, a memento of our first Christmas in tropical Cairns.

Some decorations didn’t quite survive the year in their box—or the travel—and need to be super glued before being perched on their branch. I have my favourites: The white and blue ceramic heart that I picked up one shopping trip and couldn’t put down again, the brightly painted Balinese birds that colour the tree. Husband took the boys shopping today and they are eager to add their Christmas decoration choices to the tree; a silver sleigh and campervan complete with evergreen tree sprinkled with snow.

Curious six-year old wants to know when the presents will start arriving now that we have the tree up. The last gingerbread is halved between two little mouths, a cry of, ‘Mine’s bigger than yours,’ breaks the spell of generosity. Thankfully there’s no scuffle.

I sink gratefully into the couch, propping my wrapped ankle up on the stool. The lights get plugged in, the cheery glow of coloured bulbs reflects off the shiny decorations. We sit for a moment in the peace before antsy four-year old switches the calm lights to a strobing flicker. From now on the air will be charged with secrets and whispers, giggles behind closed doors and barely contained excitement.

It’s almost Christmas…

My Lily

I’ve been feeling rather overwhelmed with my writing lately particularly, the book that I’m writing. I got to the point where I just didn’t want to even look at it anymore. When I did look at it, I felt frustrated and just plain confused.

I thought that I’d done the hard part—writing it. But reflecting back, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Actually writing the whole bones of my children’s book, which from this moment onward I will be referring to as Lily, took me about six months—that was two years ago.

Lily is over 25,000 words and that might not seem so long for a lot of people, particularly those who have written novels with 80-100,000 words or love reading full-length novels, but to me it is enormous.

I got lost in the words, I didn’t know which way was up or what was right or inside-out. If you asked me what the theme of my book was, I couldn’t tell you because somewhere in the 20,000+ words and the two years I’ve been writing, it got lost. Why was I even writing this book?

I’ve had numerous people read Lily at different stages, all of whom have been so incredibly encouraging and also offering their opinions and suggestions, which have helped me to continue to move forward. Thank you!

A couple of months ago I printed Lily off again. Completely disillusioned with reading her on the screen I thought, if I have her on paper, then maybe I’d be able to make some more sense of this absolute mess I’ve made of her.

I started reading and chucked her down with disgust, I was bored after the first page! She went on the pile on the desk. You know, that annoying pile that keeps growing and nobody actually knows what’s in it.

I have a wonderful husband, he’d read Lily two years ago, when I triumphantly and incredibly naively, pushed back from the computer and announced, “I’m done!”

He took her up again and began to, in my opinion, labour through the manuscript. I couldn’t watch him read, so I left him to it. Walking in and out of the room on the days he was reading Lily, I could see him writing and marking things, circling and crossing out. When he finished, this is what he handed me:

 

 I couldn’t believe it. First of all, he actually read through the whole manuscript and then secondly, he said there were times he couldn’t even stop reading when he knew that he should stop and write a comment. What an encouragement.

I know that giving a spouse or someone who loves you very much something to critique isn’t the best choice, if you want an unbiased opinion. But really, I didn’t need an unbiased opinion I needed someone to say, “Keep at it. I enjoyed reading it. There is a lot more here that you can fix, but it’s fixable and I believe in you.”

So, here goes, another edit. According to my computer count it’s number 38 but really that was only after I actually started counting and we’ve changed computers and moved country and interstate in between.

Who knows where this next step will take me.