Sally Murphy's Blog, page 52

On Tour: Living the Dream

Last week I got to live the author dream, and travel around the country talking about myself, my books and writing.

The tour, to promote Roses are Blue, was organised by Walker Books with support from an Australia Council Grant.  I visited schools, bookshops, libraries and even a radio station in Brisbane and Melbourne, where I spoke to hundreds of young readers, teachers, librarians, booksellers and book lovers.  How lucky was I!

Favourite bits of the week:

1. Speaking to so many enthusiastic and receptive kids – and their teachers, and librarians. It never gets old or boring talking about books and writing and reading, and every session is different, because the audience makes it so.

2. Visiting amazing bookstores and meeting and talking with booksellers passionate about putting good books into the hands of young readers.

3.  Having young readers tell me the way that one of my books reflects their own life. It delights me to know that they can connect in this way with Amber, or Pearl, or John.

4. Speaking to a group of librarians who came to Lamont Books after their work day to chat with me about poetry and verse novels and all things book.

5. Chatting to David Curnow on ABC Brisbane about Roses are Blue, writing and more. What a wonderful host David is.

6. Catching up with friends old and new both as part of the programme and socially in the downtime.

7. When the tour was over, coming home to my beautiful family. I love touring and travelling and seeing great places and meeting great people, but in the end there’s no place like home!

 

 

 

Poetry Friday: Roses are Blue

It’s Poetry Friday and I am far from home – on tour talking to children, teachers, librarians, booksellers and more about my verse novel, Roses are Blue.

So, for something different this week, I thought I would share a radio interview I did earlier this week for ABC Radio in Brisbane, chatting about Roses are Blue, verse novels and poetry, myself and more.

If you’d like to hear the interview, you can find it here . (I tried to embed it here in the post to make things easier, but just couldn’t get it to post.)

Enjoy – and for more poetry goodness, the Poetry Friday roundup is hosted this week at The Poem Farm. Head over there and see what is happening around the Kidlitoshpere.

Poetry Friday: A Whale Tail Tale

This week I had an amazing whale watching experience in Geographe Bay near where I live.

Out at sea, I got to watch massive humpback whales  splash and jump and slam their tails, and swim under the boat and just be generally awesome.

Getting good photos on a bobbing boat with whales moving about is not easy, so although they breached (jumped right out of the water) the best photo I got of that was a big splash:

But I did manage some great tail shots, including this one:

Which got me thinking of an old rhyme which went something like this:

If you ever  ever see a whale

You must never never touch its tail

For if you ever ever touch its tail

You will never never see another whale.

(There is a longer version of this rhyme, with way more ‘evers’ in it. You’ll find it, beautifully illustrated here.)

and of a Shel Silverstein poem about Melinda Mae, which begins:

Have you heard of tiny Melinda Mae

Who ate a monstrous whale?

She thought she could,

She said she would

So she started right in at the tail.

(You can read the rest of that sorry tale here).

There was no eating – of whales, or by whales – on my trip, much to everybody’s relief.

Since I got home I’ve been trying to write a poem which captures the thrill of seeing such massive animals leaping out of the water (we saw a double breach, which was pretty special – two massive humpbacks leaping at the same time, like  massive synchronised swimmers) and the way that something so huge can be also so beautiful. The poem is still brewing, but that’s okay – sometimes an experience can take months, or even years, to work itself into a poem.

In the meantime, I have photos, and memories. Wonderful memories.

Today’s Poetry Friday is hosted by Laura at Writing the World for Kids.  Pop over there for more poetry goodness.

 

 

 

 

Poetry Friday: Paths to Nowhere

Welcome to Poetry Friday. If you visit this blog regularly you might have caught on to how much I love my morning walks, I live in a beautiful part of Australia, with options to walk in bushy and, parks, on the beach, around an inlet and more.

This week I have been driving my son to exams most morning, so instead of walking close to home, I have stopped on the way home and walked in some different locations. One of these was a place called Big Swamp, about ten minutes away. It’s a big wetland, which is actually rehabilitated land on what was once the town rubbish dump. Now it is teeming with wildlife, and the number of ducks, swans, swamp hens and other birds is just fabulous.

There is a path that goes right around the outside of the swamp, but my favourite path branches off that and heads through paperbark trees, and scrub and rushes, and leads to a boardwalk and an observation hut for bird watchers. I was delighted to have this path to myself, and really felt like I was on an adventure.

My meandering reminded me of a poem by Corinne Roosevelt Robinson, who wrote of a path that leads nowhere. Her countryside was quite different from mine, but the sentiment is one I can really relate to.

The Path That Leads Nowhere

There’s a path that leads to Nowhere

In a meadow that I know,

Where an inland island rises

And the stream is still and slow;

There it wanders under willows,

And beneath the silver green

Of the birches’ silent shadows

Where the early violets lean.

Other pathways lead to Somewhere,

But the one I love so well

Has no end and no beginning—

Just the beauty of the dell…

You can read the rest of the poem here, and for more poetry goodness, check out the Poetry Friday roundup which is being hosted today by Heidi  at My Juicy Little Universe.

PS – Ducklings! I counted 19. Have a great week.

Poetry Friday: Book Spine Poems

It’s Poetry Friday. This week I have been trying to restore some order into my workspace. This is an almost unending task because I am not a very tidy person, and my office space is limited to a corner of the loungeroom. One day, one day, I will have an office of my own (which will be sad, because it will mean less of my beautiful children are living at home),  but I do wonder if, even then, I’ll manage to keep my workspace organised.

Anyway, as I tried desperately to reorganise my books on children’s poetry, and of children’s poetry, which I’ve got all shelved within arm’s reach, I saw a Book Spine Poem emerging. Some thought, some rearranging, and a not completely successful attempt to get my camera to focus nicely, I had a poem about poetry, which seemed apt.

As I put the books away, I moved the verse novel, Heartbeat, to be with my many other verse novels, and immediately saw the beginnings of another poem. Some thought, some rearranging – yup, you’ve got the drill – and I had a second poem.

 

As I put these books away I realised that one of them was miscategorised too, since One Perfect Pirouette is not a verse novel, though it is by one of my favourite Australian verse novelists. I was tempted to put it away and see if that created a third opportunity, but then I realised I was in danger of spending the whole day making Book Spine Poetry and not getting the task at hand done.

Okay, back to work for me. If you’d like to see more great poetry and posts about poetry, head over to the Poetry Friday roundup, which this week is hosted at the amazing Poetry for Children blog.

Poetry Friday: Books Spine Poems

It’s Poetry Friday. This week I have been trying to restore some order into my workspace. This is an almost unending task because I am not a very tidy person, and my office space is limited to a corner of the loungeroom. One day, one day, I will have an office of my own (which will be sad, because it will mean less of my beautiful children are living at home),  but I do wonder if, even then, I’ll manage to keep my workspace organised.

Anyway, as I tried desperately to reorganise my books on children’s poetry, and of children’s poetry, which I’ve got all shelved within arm’s reach, I saw a Book Spine Poem emerging. Some thought, some rearranging, and a not completely successful attempt to get my camera to focus nicely, I had a poem about poetry, which seemed apt.

As I put the books away, I moved the verse novel, Heartbeat, to be with my many other verse novels, and immediately saw the beginnings of another poem. Some thought, some rearranging – yup, you’ve got the drill – and I had a second poem.

 

As I put these books away I realised that one of them was miscategorised too, since One Perfect Pirouette is not a verse novel, though it is by one of my favourite Australian verse novelists. I was tempted to put it away and see if that created a third opportunity, but then I realised I was in danger of spending the whole day making Book Spine Poetry and not getting the task at hand done.

Okay, back to work for me. If you’d like to see more great poetry and posts about poetry, head over to the Poetry Friday roundup, which this week is hosted at the amazing Poetry for Children blog.

Poetry Friday: Watching

It’s Poetry Friday and I am still enjoying the advent of Spring, one of my favourite seasons. There is a lot of very active bird life on my morning walks at present – magpies, ducks (with ducklings!), spoonbills, willy wagtails, swamphens, and more. I love to watch them, but they don’t always seem quite as happy to see me. Thus, this week’s poem.

Watching

I took a walk along a path

Beside a lake, beneath a tree

And looked and saw and stopped and smiled

That there was so much there to see.

Ducks and wagtails, spoonbills, crows

Bright butterflies, a busy bee

But then I paused to wonder if

All that I watched was watching me.

And even as I wondered this

A nearby magpie turned to flee

Flying away to a safe branch

So off I walked, and let him be.

 

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by Michelle at Today’s Little Ditty.   Pop over there to see what other poetry goodness is on offer.

More Things I Learnt During Bookweek

I get invited to speak about my books, and about writing and reading, in the hope that I might inspire or teach my audiences. But every single time that I speak, I get inspired in return, and I am constantly learning things about myself and my books from my audiences. Further to my post a couple of days ago about the links I have started to see between my books, here are a few more things I learnt in Bookweek.

There are a lot of FIFO families in WA. Actually I already knew that (one article I read suggested there are 60 thousand FIFO workers in WA), but it was only when I started going into schools to talk about Fly-In Fly-Out Dad that I realised what this translates to. In every classroom there are children with a dad or mum who goes away to work. And in some classrooms, the majority of children are in this situation, or have another close family member (granddad, aunty etc) who does FIFO work.


Not every FIFO child, even of primary school age, really understands where it is that their absent parent goes, or what they do there. Even eight and nine year olds who knew that their parent was FIFO, didn’t know where it was that Mum or Dad worked.


Kids love poetry, even though they don’t always realise that what they are reading IS poetry. Lots of kids tell me how much they love my verse novels, but when I tell them that these are poems, they are surprised, especially when the books have been read aloud to them. It doesn’t worry me whether my readers know that they are reading poetry, or whether they know what a verse novel is. What concerns me is whether they are enjoying the stories. The form aids that enjoyment, and the connection with it, but if the reader doesn’t recognise the form, that’s fine. I call his poetry by stealth.


Using a footy analogy to get my point across never gets old. I have been using the fact that I am a Fremantle Dockers supporter to illustrate why I write books with big highs and low lows for several years. It never fails to get a reaction from the audience, especially in WA where footy rivalry Is strong. One of my proudest Bookweek moments came a couple of years ago when a boy in a Eagles guernsey approached me after my session to tell me he was going to switch to supporting the Dockers.


Nothing energises me more than a fresh audience. I drove 200 plus kilometres to and from every day of Bookweek this year, and in between sessions and at the end of every day I was exhausted. But when each new audience arrived, I got a lovely whoosh of adrenalin and felt on top of the world. I danced, talked, sang (sorry about that), jumped, paced, talked some more, and loved every moment of it.

Of course, I was pretty weary by the time Bookweek was over, but that’s what weekends are for, right?

Poetry Friday: Australians All

Warning: the following post is heartfelt, and a bit political, and very different from my usual poetry posts.

It’s Poetry Friday, and this week the thing that has been on my mind is the Syrian Refugee crisis. There are 11 million (yes ELEVEN MILLION) displaced Syrians, either displaced within their former country, or having fled. And, governments and individuals from  around the world, spurred to action at last, have been opening their hearts and their borders to help these people, many of them children.

Australia’s government was  slow to act, though has finally agreed to take in 12,000 refugees. This is wonderful news, though it should be said that 12,000 out of 11 Million is just a tiny drop. And it doesn’t change the fact that Australia also has many other legitimate refugees (from Syria and other countries) in detention centres both offshore and within Australia, treated like criminals for seeking help.

Anyway, I wanted to respond to my strong feelings about this subject  but every time I tried to write, nothing came out. The only words that came to my mind are the words of our national anthem, which I have been unable to sing proudly since we started mistreating refugees on Manus on Nauru. The anthem speaks of welcoming “those who’ve come across the seas”, yet our Prime Minister talks, quite proudly of ‘stopping the boats’ and that those who have come that way will never have homes in Australia. And our so-called Opposition supports this stance.

So, for today’s Poetry Friday I give you the words of our National Anthem. A poem which once stirred me to feel proud and hopeful. May we be able to sing it, not just for the 12, 000 who we are about to welcome, but for the thousands who are currently being held in detention.

AUSTRALIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM
Australians all let us rejoice,
For we are young and free;
We’ve golden soil and wealth for toil;
Our home is girt by sea;
Our land abounds in nature’s gifts
Of beauty rich and rare;
In history’s page, let every stage
Advance Australia Fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia Fair.
Beneath our radiant Southern Cross
We’ll toil with hearts and hands;
To make this Commonwealth of ours
Renowned of all the lands;
For those who’ve come across the seas
We’ve boundless plains to share;
With courage let us all combine
To Advance Australia Fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia Fair.

Because my post is political, I have not added to to this week’s Poetry Friday roundup. But please, if you have time, head over to the roundup which is today hosted today by Robyn at The Deckle Edge.

Not as Different as You’d Think: Things I Learned in Bookweek

As I talked about books and writing during my Bookweek visits, I used my three latest books – Fly-In Fly-out Dad, 1915, and Roses are Blue – to demonstrate where ideas come from, and how an idea can be moulded into a story. In most sessions I referred to all three books because I felt that using such diverse books would mix things up a bit. But, after a week of discussing three very different books, I started to realise that while they are very different, these three books had quite a lot of similarities.

All are about absence, and missing loved ones. In Fly-in Fly-Out Dad Tiger misses his Dad, and Dad misses his son. Even when they are together they realise that soon they will be apart again. In 1915 Stanley, fighting at Gallipoli, misses his family desperately, and probably his twin sister Elizabeth most of all. And Elizabeth, at home in Australia, misses Stanley, and worries about him every day. In Roses are Blue, Amber misses her mum, even though Mum is still with her. She misses the way Mum was before her terrible accident, and the things they could do together which they now can’t.


All three feature strong child characters.Tiger is only little, and struggles to understand where Dad goes, and even why they can’t always be together, but he tries to be brave about this. It’s important though, that he is able to recognise that being ‘brave’ doesn’t mean he isn’t allowed to miss his dad or to feel sad about Dad’s absences. In 1915, Stanley and Elizabeth are not children – though as young teachers they really aren’t much past their teenage years. And they are both strong individuals. But to me, the child characters who strike me as strong here are Miles’ sons, Bobby and Harry , who Elizabeth teaches. They represent the many many children who, in World War 1 (as in other armed conflicts) watched their fathers go off to war, not knowing if they’d come back. And (spoiler alert) when their father does die, they do their best to carry on their lives. In Roses are Blue, Amber too has the strength to carry on, trying hard to be happy, to support her family – especially her baby brother, Jack – and to make the most of what she’s got.


All three make people cry. I spent a lot of time during Bookweek (as with all my appearances, really) discussing why I choose to write books which rouse emotion. Though I don’t set out to make people cry, I’m kind of glad that I am able to connect with people in this way. And my aim is, that even when someone cries reading one of my books, they should feel happier afterwards.

There are probably other links between the three, and between these and my other books. Perhaps the biggest link is that, because they were written by me, inside each and every one of my books is a piece of me. Intentionally or otherwise, I put myself on every page. It’s one of the fun parts of being an author.