Christine Bongers's Blog, page 17
July 25, 2010
This is what I do with my spare time…
Oops. Sprung.
For the full story behind the picture, check out .
(I'll be blogging for Random House Australia for the rest of the week, so don't expect too much action round here til August.) 
July 22, 2010
Journey of the book
If ever there were an occasion worth celebrating, it would have to be the birth of a book.
Novel writing is such a torturous exercise in delayed gratification.
The labour is elephantine, even for a relatively short, 53,000-word effort, like my latest offering.
Leonie and Marj
According to my diary, I started writing it on 22 March 2009.
I delivered the completed manuscript to my made-of-awesome publisher Leonie Tyle on 23 November last year.
Copy edits, courtesy of the redoubtable editing team of R...
July 12, 2010
First reviews of Triple H
The nervous pit has gone from my stomach; first reviews of Henry Hoey Hobson have hit the streets:
'Henry Hoey Hobson' by Christine Bongers is a funny, fast-paced story, built around a likeable protagonist. Henry is an engaging narrator, who learns the importance of having people on your side, no matter what they look like. The book tackles themes of judgement, acceptance and family, both biological and chosen. This is a recommended read for upper-primary readers.' Australian Bookseller and...
July 8, 2010
Getting high on Maui
It's official; I'm Mauied.
Seduced by the sway of it's fragrant, frangipani-scented shores, our latest Griswold family holiday initially clung to the coastline.
While hubba hubby windsurfed, the rest of us explored the north shore and Honolua Bay, snorkling with turtles, and discovering hidden pockets of rainforest, reminiscent of the Navi forests of Pandora.
It was days before we ventured upcountry to East Maui's massive shield volcano.
In less than two hours, we drove from sea level to an...
June 26, 2010
Proust for skedaddlers
It would take more than a ten-hour flight to Hawaii to get me started on Proust, the French writer best known for his humongous work, A la recherche du temps perdu.
But thanks to Simone Howell at Inside a dog, I've found a way to invoke Proust, while skedaddling out of the country, and without actually committing to reading the seven-volume translation.
She put me on to the Proust Questionaire, which was devised by young Marcel at the age of twenty, as a means of revealing one's innermost...
June 22, 2010
The Versatile Blogger Award
Many thanks to the lovely Lynn Priestley of Zenquill for passing on The Versatile Blogger Award to me. And thanks to all who find the time to drop by. I'm being good for once and trying to follow…
The Rules:
1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you this award:
2. Share seven things about yourself:
3. Pass this award along to bloggers you have discovered who you think are fantastic for whatever reason:
4. Contact the bloggers you've picked and let them know about the award:
Seven Things...
June 18, 2010
Manners – too quaint for cyberspace?
When I started writing fiction I was asked if I intended to publish under a pseudonym.
I hadn't considered the question before, but didn't take long to decide that I wanted to publish under my own name.
I wanted to own what I wrote… I figured it would keep me honest and force me to be the best writer that I could be.
Then, and now, I wanted to be accountable for what I wrote.
That's why I sign my name when I enter into internet discussions. It encourages me to think before v...
June 9, 2010
Henry Hoey Hobson – Brisbane launch
Ack, it's almost upon us. The Brisbane launch of Henry Hoey Hobson.
There will be drinks and me and the fabulous Marj Kirkland, illustrious grand poobah of the Childrens Book Council of Australia. Also my esteemed publisher, Leonie Tyle, waving the Woolshed Press/Random House Australia banner.
Click here to check it out on Coaldrake's Author Events and here for the true story behind Henry Hoey Hobson (yes, I made it all up, apart from the drinks around the coffin. That really happened).
Love...
June 1, 2010
Knocking myself out at BWF
The gods are rubbing their hands and giggling with wicked delight.
Only days after publicly revealing my fear of ever again sharing a signing table with Morris Gleitzman, they've conspired to put us on the same bill for this year's Word Play at the Brisbane Writers Festival.
For those who missed it the first time, Morris has queues that extend to the outer reaches of the galaxy, while I try to attract passing interest by balancing a pen on the end of my nose, toppling backwards out of a chair, ...
