I’m well into novel number 3 now, and looking forward to having a first draft ready early next year. I just spent ten days in Japan where I did a little bit of research as well as taking some family holiday time, but that’s all I’ll say for the moment. I hope to be able to put the synopsis/teaser for book 3 up on site early next year, so watch this space.col-md-2
I recently answered 20 questions for www.thereadingroom.com. If you want to find out which author I’d invite for dinner, or who I think should receive the Nobel Prize for literature, follow this link: http://www.thereadingroom.com/author-20-questions/sara-foster/604120col-md-2
I was delighted when Fiona contacted me to ask me to be part of her latest website project, in which she asks a number of Australian authors to write about and photograph their work spaces. Go to her website www.fionapalmer.com and check them out – there are some great names on there, including Matthew Reilly, Lisa Heidke, Tony Park, Bronwyn Parry, Rachael Treasure, Mandy Magro, Jaye Ford, Katherine Scholes and Monica McInerney!col-md-2
I’ve been a big fan of Kylie’s ever since reading After the Fall, her first novel. Her latest release, Last Summer, begins with the death of Rory, the heart and soul of Yarra Yarra cricket club, and explores the fallout among his extended group of friends. Told from an impressive nine points of view, Kylie addresses themes of love, grief, aging, marriage, and parenthood, and the story is full of Kylie’s hallmarks: psychological insight, beautifully crafted writing, and characters you feel instantly connected to, despite their flaws. You can find out more about Kylie and her books at www.kylieladd.com.au, and I’d highly recommend following her on Twitter (@kylie_ladd). I’m thrilled that Kylie agreed to answer my questions, and I’m already looking forward to her next release. Over to Kylie…
1. Why did you decide to write Last Summer?
The book was inspired, for want of a better word, by the unexpected death of one of my husband’s close friends, a guy he had played cricket and footy with for many years – and I’ve actually written a whole blog about this over at Lisa Heidke’s website. But as well as that, having written about romantic love in my previous novel, After The Fall, this time around I wanted to write about friendship. My husband has played club cricket for over three decades now, and is still going strong. Some of the relationships he has made in that time are like blood to him, and how he and his mates can still seem to need to dissect a game six hours after it has finished never fails to amaze me. I find the whole group psychology thing fascinating… a long established group, be that of Uni friends or teammates or work colleagues, is almost like a marriage, with all the compromises and resentments and deep understanding that entails, and I wanted to dive into that.
2. What do you find essential to sustain or encourage your writing brain? (e.g. food, drink, music, etc.). Do you have any other writing habits?
I have no writing habits other than, it seems, stuffing around for hours at the start of my writing day (of which I have three a week) then finally getting into gear when I suddenly realise I only have a few hours until 3:30. The threat of the school bell is the greatest incitement to write I have ever come across – once that goes, it’s all over for the day. Other than that, there’s nothing special I do to get the muse to show up. I’m quite used to starting without her.
3. If you could live the life of any fictional character (book or film), who would you be and why?
Robinson Crusoe. I really love the beach.
4. If you weren’t a writer, what else would you like to be?
A hairdresser. Or a bank teller. In fact, I dream about these professions on a regular basis, usually when it is 3 o’clock and I am still 550 words off my 1000 words/day goal…. Oh, how I long to be doing something productive and straightforward and that you can go home from feeling good about yourself, rather than lying awake that night wondering if you dare re-read over the chapter you’ve just finished and if it’s even more rubbish than you already suspect. Swimsuit model would be good too (the beach again), but so far I haven’t been able to find an agency.
5. Who inspires you in life?
Big question! My mum has always inspired me – she decided to become a doctor at the age of 40, with three young kids, and having left school without passing Year 11. That she went on and did so is a constant reminder that dreams can come true – particularly if you’re prepared to put in years of hard work. In terms of authors, Toni Morrison is unable to write a bad sentence. Every one of hers is as exquisitely turned as a Bentwood chair, supple and strong. Also Joanna Trollope, who I suspect is often under-rated, simply for how well she can pin characters to the page and make them squirm.
6. How would your ideal day go?
Any day where I get 1000 words I am happy with is a perfect day, it really is. That probably sounds like a cop out, but I came to writing in my thirties, after eleven years studying for another profession, and I’m just so grateful to be finally doing something I truly love and occasionally even get paid for. The only way it could get any better would be if I could find a way to write on the beach… but I keep getting sand in my laptop.
7. You’re about to get parachuted on to a desert island for a month, Survivor style – and you’re allowed to take three books. What would you take and why?
This sounds like my Robinson Crusoe fantasy! If it really was in Survivor style I guess I’d need Robison Crusoe, so I could see how he survived, plus 101 Tasty Ways With Turtles And Other Easy To Catch Aquatic Species, and my Girl Guide handbook, so I could brush up on my knots and semaphore. If, however, I’m being parachuted into Club Med I’d pack the biggest, thickest books I could find – War and Peace, definitely, all of Proust, and maybe Of Human Bondage. All a bit intimidating, I admit, but I could get through a lot of books in a month doing nothing, and I’d hate to run out!
8. What have you learned during the course of writing and publishing your novels?
That EVERYONE hates their novels at some stage of writing them, and often on a daily basis. That the muse is utterly unreliable and not to be trusted. That Twitter will sing such a sweet siren song to you that the only way to defeat it will be to unplug your laptop and go and work in the kitchen where you can’t get wifi (pathetic, I know). That being published won’t automatically make you happier, richer or a better person… but also that the first time you see your name on a book is right up there with the first time you see your children, although with the added bonus that you won’t need stiches afterwards.
9. What do you hope people take away from reading your book?
An overwhelming desire to buy 100 more copies to pass out to their family and friends, and particularly that great-uncle who is the literary editor at the New York Times. Otherwise, though, I simply hope people come away from my books having enjoyed them, and, while they were reading them, having believed in their world. Being asked about my characters as if they were real people is the greatest compliment I have ever been given.
10. What’s next on the horizon for you?
Finishing my next book! By some fluke of timing (and the fact that publishing moves at a pace that can make glaciers look reckless) I should complete the novel I am working on, Into My Arms, not long after Last Summer comes out. A first draft anyway… Finishing a book is almost as scary as starting one, and right up there with having one launched. To be honest, it’s all terrifying… but I still love it.
It’s been a pleasure chatting to you, Kylie (and your mum sounds incredible!) Good luck with your writing, and I’m really looking forward to reading Into My Arms.col-md-2
Geiki Gorge landscape, in the Kimberley
It’s not about rights
(though it seems some rights mean more than others?)
It’s not about need
(who can say about greed)
It’s not about whales
(or this rare, safe place they calve)
It’s not about flora, fauna, or natural heritage
(or dinosaur footprints left 130 million years ago)
It’s not about a wilderness few will visit
(out of sight, out of mind)
It’s not even about pollution
(the inestimable clog of it)
No, it’s not about any of this
(It’s all of this)
It is that all this damage is irreversible
(i.r.r.e.v.e.r.s.i.b.l.e.).
Land and sea are irreplaceable
And afterwards
They are all we’ll have left.
S.A.V.E. T.H.E. K.I.M.B.E.R.L.E.Y.
(and all places like it)col-md-2
Signatures have been exchanged, and the deal is done. Most significantly for me at this stage, the deadline has been set. In January 2012, all being well, I will hand over my third novel. I began work in earnest this week, and welcomed back a familiar feeling of giddiness and discomfort – the usual combination of excitement and fear that is present when I’m writing.
I have given myself a huge challenge. All I’ll say about the story at present is that it takes place along the beautiful coastline of WA, and there’s a messy, complicated family (of course!), who are already hijacking my thoughts regularly. I have the feeling that however determined I am to take the reins of their story, there will be parts of the process where all I can do is hang on and try to enjoy the ride.
One of the best parts of this job is that readers I have never met are prepared to give my ideas and imaginings some of their precious time. My desire to write a fantastic story that will capture your heart and mind is as strong as your desire to read one, so wish me luck, and let the fun and hard work begin!col-md-2
Not since April, when I found two brilliant books in the same month – Jasper Jones (Craig Silvey) and After the Fall (Kylie Ladd) – have I read a novel from start to finish. It’s incredibly frustrating, because I love curling up on the sofa for a regular dose of escapism, but my problem is not going away any time soon, because my two-year-old has decided she doesn’t need a nap. My lunchtime to do list has now largely moved to the evening, and all those books I’m desperate to read are piling up on my shelves.
I don’t want to start anything that’s important to me until I get a good run at it. Therefore, I’ve been getting some rather random and ill-chosen things out of the library, literary heavyweights that I start at about half past ten at night, and struggle through approximately three lines before my eyelids betray me. However, while I attempt to fix this problem and rediscover my reading time, I have been doing plenty more reading of another kind. If it’s by Mick Inkpen, Eric Hill, Lucy Cousins or Julia Donaldson, chances are not only that I’ve read it, but that I can recite it to you verbatim. And the squeals of excitement and enthusiasm they engender in my daughter make these books rather special. I’ve been asked before what books we read together, so here, in honour of my new toddler-imposed reading regime – are some of our favourites right now:
The Snail and the Whale by Julia Donaldson and Axel Schiffer. The ending makes me well up
every time.
Watch Out Little Wombat by Charles Fuge. We particularly love shouting SPLAT and CROC-O-DILE!
The Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. Everybody’s favourite – but one of mine because I love hearing my daughter name the foods, and the cute way she says ‘pickle’ and ‘alami’ for ‘salami’, and the satisfaction on her face when she gets them all right.
Duck in the Truck by Jez Alborough. Despite it’s questionable moral ending when Duck leaves all his helpful mates completely in the s**t, my little one loves it and has great fun getting things ‘stuck in the muck’ in the back garden.
Snore by Michael Rosen and Jonathan Langley. My little girl loves to imitate the snores and animal noises.
Tiger by Nick Butterworth. The illustrations are gorgeous and make me want another kitten!
The Great Pet Sale by Mick Inkpen. We also love Kipper and Wibbley Pig, but this book is brilliant, and the quick-tongued rat makes us both laugh.
If You’re Happy and You Know It by Jane Cabrera. The illustrations are lovely and there are lots of great simple actions for little ones to sing and dance to.
Shhh Little Mouse by Pamela Allen. We do lots of finger to mouth and whispering until the cat wakes up and it all breaks loose.
Follow the Kite by Anna Nilsen and Mark Burgess. A really unusual book with a kite that you can lace through the pages as it blows up and down in the wind.
I’d love to hear your favourites too?col-md-2
I usually have to brace myself to read the latest news and events of the world, so much of it shocking and senseless. Yesterday I learned about child marriage in northern India, girls who are wedded by their early teens, and have their pregnancies explained to them at the onset of labour. I also came across ‘fracking’, a new method of obtaining natural gas which turns tap water into explosive. And then there are the 25 dolphins that swam free days ago, and are now bound for the entertainment industry on Sentosa Island, Singapore, where the few who survive will be oohed and aahed at by visitors while they adjust to life in their swimming pool prison.
And I wonder, if you want to effect real change, how do you ask people to open up, past their fears, prejudices, beliefs, traditions, sense of selves embedded far deeper than vital organs, and re-examine their lives? To ask them to turn over each heavy stone of truth and see what it might really be made of? For a society to do this successfully, doesn’t it have to happen within each individual too? And if we ask this of others, shouldn’t we first ask it of ourselves? What might our own stones reveal, if we have the willingness to recognise them and the courage to examine their foundations?col-md-2
Last night, one of the last images I saw before I went to bed was of a terrified Chinese toddler being held at knifepoint in the street by her father. The horror of that situation was not distilled by the frozen photo, the detached computer screen, or the fact I could flick away when I chose. Horrendous fear and suffering were transmitted in an instant.
I hadn’t searched this out. I wasn’t planning to read the news at that point. But it broke its boundaries and affected me. As did the Four Corners story this week, which I found out about thanks to twitter. I’m grateful I didn’t have to watch that footage, because I know it would still be haunting me. The photographs I did see were enough.
No one has taught me how to deal with these moments. I have had to teach myself, because, quite frankly, they have brought me to my knees at times. And the way I have come to terms with this is by becoming a more conscious guardian of my emotions, knowing when I can take action and when there is nothing I can do. From what I could gather (the article wasn’t clear), the little Chinese girl was rescued. Twelve hours later, the news has moved on, and I can’t even find it on the same site. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever know what happened to them.
However, with the push to ban live exports, there were at least petitions to sign. Where once upon a time I would have felt this was a fairly unremarkable gesture, I don’t any more, because of the emergence of a few amazing, energetic sites that have recorded some brilliant, measurable breakthroughs as a result of people power. Sites like Avaaz.org and getup.org.au (who ran a live exports petition), and organisations like the Wilderness Society (who send you the results of their actions) are doing a great job of bringing some critical issues to our attention. And despite the desperate, depressing news they bring to my door, they make me feel that there is something small but very important that I can do. They wouldn’t exist unless we were all choosing to add our names to causes we believe in. This weekend my family will be going to climate change rally in Perth on Sunday (there are also rallies in Melbourne, Hobart, Brisbane, Adelaide and Sydney), thanks to the information and reminders from GetUp. Our voices might be small, but they all count, and I’m buoyed by the words of anthropologist Margaret Mead: Never doubt that a small group of committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.col-md-2
