Greenwich

My story "Greenwich, meantime" has been shortlisted for the (deep breath) Royal Society of New Zealand's Manhire Prize for Creative Science Writing - see the shortlist here. I visited the Royal Observatory in Greenwich - where the story is set - in July. My fingers straddled Edmund Halley's meridian, the closest I got to lining up for a photo at longitude 0 degrees 0 mins 00 secs.

Just like spring rain

I'm nearing the end of a week and a half holed up, writing, in the front bedroom at the Michael King Writers' Centre, half way up Mt Victoria in Devonport, Auckland (yep the novel's going well, thanks for asking). Yesterday morning, I sat at the table in the kitchen eating my breakfast and looking out at the blossoms on the tree in the back yard all limpid and lovely in the spring rain, and magically Kim Hill played Spring Rain by the Go-Betweens on the radio. If you haven't seen the vid, or not for a while, have a look; makes me smile just to watch it. I want Robert Forster's striped shirt.

quiddity

I've just bundled up my collection of short stories in manuscript, for a fresh, new outing to the publisher. I've put flame trees on the cover. I know, you're not supposed to send covers. But I've sent flame trees for good luck.

The cat seems positive about the whole process. He brought me an extra mouse tonight to celebrate.

Checking, re-ordering and primping the collection has kept me busy for the past week. I experienced that odd feeling, when you read work you've written from a remove, so that it's as if someone else has written it. "Aah, so that's what happens to that character! Nice." That's when a story works, perhaps; when I'm not distracted by how I can change it, or make it better, but instead I'm pulled into its world.

So, the short stories are off in the morning, off to find their way in the world, and I'll get my head back into the novel.