Philosophical cupcakes (and other sweet treats)

I'm brimming over with patriotic pride this week, following reviews of Airmail appearing in two wonderful Aussie publications. The first is a review in my absolute favourite street press, Spitpress magazine. They say Airmail is "a philosophical cupcake; perfect to enjoy in one go with a cup of tea on a rainy afternoon," and that it "will leave its footprints in your mind for days." Poetry!

If you live in Sydney, you can pick up a copy of Spitpress all over town, and I highly recommend you do. Issue 8 (called 'Wired') is out now, and Airmail's starring role is on page 9. For everyone else, despair not. You can read Spitpress online here.

In addition to Airmail, you'll find Cleptoclectics, Frankie magazine editor Jo Walker, Brendan Maclean, Jack Carty’s tour diary from up north, Tunes for Change, Crash Test Drama, The Smallest Gig, Dry July, Photographer Xiaohan Shen, and artist Jilly Cooper AKA Lisa Bowen.

But wait, there's more!

While I was still swinging high on Spitpress' kind words (and before I'd even had time to indulge my sudden desire for cupcakes), fellow Sydneysider Jayne Fordham of 'The Australian Bookshelf' posted her own review of Airmail online.

Jayne's review focused on the characters in Airmail, and I really enjoyed what she had to say. In Jayne's take on Airmail, Anouk is "neurotic and entertaining." GL Solomon’s "rigid life becomes malleable."

Jayne concludes, "The author has created very likeable characters who grow and learn despite the length and will leave you quite satisfied. If you would like a quick quirky read, then Airmail by Australian author Naomi Bulger, is an entertaining read."

You can read the full review here, and if you live in Australia, don't forget to enter her competition to win one of two copies of Airmail.

What's sexy? Reading is. So is jazz. 60s spectacles, not so much

There's a book-review website out there in the world wide webiverse called 'Reading is Sexy' and, following the fabulous review its author Diana gave Airmail last week, I am inclined to agree. Here's what Diana had to say:

"Airmail is one of the most engaging, thought provoking novellas I’ve ever read. In short order, Naomi Bulger delves into the possibilities of story telling. This quirky, left of center story sucks the reader into a sometimes magical world that seems to balance between the possible and impossible. Those of you who, like me, have enjoyed work from Through the Looking Glass to Donnie Darko will immensely enjoy Airmail. In some ways it reminded me a bit of the movie Mary and Max."

Pretty sexy, huh? Now, imagine how chuffed I am. Uber-chuffed, that's what!

To read the whole review, click here (and leave a comment to let Diana know if you like it: one good turn deserves another, after all).

You know what else is sexy? Swingin' jazz from the 60s. For your listening pleasure, I present Airmail Special:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQaChgcQFhg]

Magical realism quiz

If a little boy at your local farmers' market suddenly sprouted a curly pig's tail, what would you do? Would you: a) Call an ambulance / call the media / call the police? [you are probably not in a genre novel]

b) Wave your magic wand, call your dragon-steed, and fly to a place where little boys only ever sprouted lovely peacocks' tails and never pigs' tails? [you are in a fantasy novel]

c) Think, "that's odd," then ask a nearby stall-holder if chilli peppers are back in season? [you are in a magical realism novel]

I was invited by the lovely Laura at The Book Tree to write a guest post on her blog. So I did a little metaphorical head-scratching, then came up with a theme I wanted to share. To whit: life, my friends, is a magical realism novel. And you can read it here.

Life is a magical realism novel

If a little boy at your local farmers' market suddenly sprouted a curly pig's tail, what would you do? Would you:

a) Call an ambulance / call the media / call the police? [you are probably not in a genre novel] b) Wave your magic wand, call your dragon-steed, and fly to a place where little boys only ever sprouted lovely peacocks' tails and never pigs' tails? [you are in a fantasy novel] c) Think, "that's odd," then ask a nearby stall-holder if limes are back in season? [you are in a magical realism novel]

I was invited by the lovely Laura at The Book Tree to write a guest post on her blog. So I did a little metaphorical head-scratching, then came up with a theme I wanted to share. To whit: life, my friends, is a magical realism novel. And you can read it here.

Merry month of May: week 2

(Image via)

I've just wrapped up Week 2 of my Merry Month of May blog tour, during which time I've tucked a virtual copy of Airmail under my virtual arm and toddled (virtually) around the world, via some wonderful literary blogs. It was a week that featured real magic, some lovely blog hosts and reviewers, a touch of creative inspiration, and bribery with baked goods.

* On Wednesday I perused The Australian Bookshelf, and shared my top tips for keeping that creative spark alive while writing for a living. I took inspiration from a fabulous artist I met a few years back, Irene Grishin Selzer, who maintains this same delicate balance of art and business for her hand-crafted jewellery line, Iggy & Lou Lou.

* Thursday was my day for relaxing in the shade of The Book Tree, where I shared the story of how I first discovered the literary genre 'magical realism', how it enchanted me, and how it helped me see the magic in my own (real) world. The link to this post keeps appearing and disappearing, and I am not tech-savvy enough to know what's going on. This is the link, but if it doesn't work and you really want to read the post, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

* Also reclining under The Book Tree was my lovely hostess Laura, who shared her review of Airmail, and is running a competition to win a free copy this month.

* On Friday, I headed back to 100 Stars or Less, the site of last week's guest post on pen pals, for Erika's review of Airmail. I recommend you pop on over too and give the review a read, not just because she enjoyed the book (which she did), but also because Erika is such a fun and entertaining writer that she takes you on her personal journey of reading this quirky story. Plus, she's also offering a free copy of Airmail.

* Finally on the weekend it was over to Alchemy of Scrawl, where writer and reviewer Coral Russell gave her opinion of Airmail in audio format. I may or may not have influenced Coral's opinion of Airmail by introducing her to the awesome deliciousness of hot cross buns over Easter. I am sure she is above such bribery. It is possible that I am not.

And that's a wrap for Week 2! See you soon.

Merry month of May: week 1

I've been a busy little blogger of late, touring all over town as part of my Merry Month of May virtual book tour.

* This is me when I was a kid, on my beloved pushbike. Around about this age, I had a pen-pal in New Caledonia. I've blogged about this experience, and the lost art of letter writing, and the advent of technology, on the wonderful website 100 Stars or Less (dedicated to supporting indie and emerging writers, how great is that!), as a guest of the lovely and gracious Erika. You can read the whole thing here.

* Then I headed on over to another fantastic and bookish website, The Book Diva's Reads, where I put the case that the novella (in other words a short novel) is due for a comeback in today's time-poor world. You can read that blog here, and read a review of Airmail by the Book Diva herself, Vivian, here.

* To start the month off, the online website that celebrates everything great about my local area (and-is-super-supportive-of-local-creatives-so-please-head-on-over-and-give-them-a-hoy-then-subscribe-or-follow-on-twitter-or-something-because-there's-always-something-interesting-going-on), *deep breath* Inner West Live, hosted an interview with me that you can read here.

* A couple of days later, the fantabulous Ashley (aka Ashton the Book Blogger) wrote a very kind (shall we say glowing?) review of Airmail, which you can read here, and which is still making me smile.

See you around the blog traps!

Naomi

Free hugs

Image via

I'm in a hugging mood today. Not in a creepy "I want to touch you, Stranger," way. More in a "Hooray! I'm so happy and I want to share the joy!" way.

Why? Because Airmail just received a glowing review from Ashton the Book Blogger. She said:

"AMAZING! I absolutely loved this book from word go!" and, "As I got towards the last few chapters of the book, I found myself holding my breath, I was flipping through the pages, at what felt like lightening speed. I just wanted to know how it ended."

You can read the full review here and leave Ashley a hug-style comment for me.

This review just added to my happy day, which was already pretty darn good due to the lovely interview and comments published on Inner West Live (and referenced in my previous blog post).

Glad to be a westie

There are lots of reasons I'm glad I live in Sydney's Inner West. But today I have an extra reason, thanks to the online celebration of all things good and newsy in my area, Inner West Live. This weekend, they published an author interview with lil' ole me. You can read it here.(And if you do read it, can you leave a comment on the page to show them some support? It's so wonderful when media support their local artists, we should give some props back!)

Why else do I love living in the Inner West? Well, aside from the lovely and supportive media, there's the food, which is abundant, incredibly diverse, and cheap. There's the stunning and ever-changing street art, which I've blogged about before. The lovely old parks that are more tree-filled and less landscaped, designed for the wanderer. The grand old mansions and ornate terraces you can pass on a walk with the dog, row upon row of the splendour of yesteryear.

And there are the people. We've never lived in a friendlier neighbourhood. In Enmore, the streets are filled with hipsters, goths, immigrants, itinerants, senior citizens, students and families. And they're all so friendly. Three cases in point:

1. On our first day in Enmore, boxes not yet unpacked, we rock up to Le Bake, devour breakfasts, coffees and juices, only to discover they don't take cards and we don't have cash. We want to rush to the bank, but, "Don't worry!" the owners Julie and Edmond say. "You live here. You're family! We know you'll pay one day."
2. Walking my dog on Cavendish Street, he crouches to do his business (as dogs do), and I pull out a little blue bag and pick his business up. We're out the front of a house, and a woman is in her front yard. She looks like she belongs in Mosman, not Enmore. I'd put her at about 50 years old, immaculately styled blonde hair, silk white pant-suit with a gold woven belt and matching gold jewellery. "Give me that," she says to me, pointing to the blue bag. "I'll put it in my bin, you don't want to be carrying that." I demur but the woman absolutely insists on taking the bag of dog crap from me and putting it in her own rubbish!
3. The day of our wedding, the family headed out to our front street to execute a bit of a clean-up because, while I'm ever a fan of my neighbourhood, I confess it DOES get pretty filthy. This was also the day of the State election. Neighbours helped out. Some picked up rubbish, others loaned their brooms and gloves, and others who couldn't help out on the day have taken charge of the upkeep ever since.

And finally? Just like Kate and Will we, too, had a fly-over at our wedding ceremony. Because we chose to get married in our secret garden, a heavenly little spot out the back of our house that my mother made lovely and my father brightened by painting the door blue. And right on cue, after our vows (and possibly during them but my concentration was elsewhere), the Boeing 747s roared past. It's entirely possible the passengers witnessed our vows.

Sweet Sydney spitters

Here's why I love spitters today. I emailed a link to some photos of street art around Enmore/Newtown that I had taken to my fave creative mag Spitpress because I thought they'd enjoy the celebration of all things creative on our streets. Apparently they did. Then they went to the trouble of making my note into a blog post in which they said really nice things about me, and even gave a little plug for my book. I've only been promoting Airmail properly for a week, so that made the Spitpress mention my first mention. Extra special.

Best of all, they called me a Dynamo. A Dynamo! We will be friends forever.

Author + actor collaboration

Writers and actors have a long history of working together, but usually it is the writers who provide the foundation for the actors to create their art. In my case, it was the other way around. In the early stages of writing Airmail, I struggled to write the character of the old man, Mr GL Solomon. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get inside his head and he just wasn’t coming across as authentic.

And as a woman in her early 30s, I had no reference points: both of my grandfathers had passed away, and there was a distinct lack of old men in my life from whom to draw inspiration.

I couldn’t answer the question: if a reclusive old man started receiving letters from a complete stranger, and if the letters were from a young woman who lived on the other side of the world, and if that world played fast and loose with reality… how would he react? Would he be dismissive? Afraid? Angry? Compassionate? I tried all of the above, and I just couldn’t get him right.

Enter: the actor.

My actor-friend’s name is Adrian and I’d love to give you more and encourage you to go out and see ANYTHING he’s in, because he’s brilliant. But we’ve lost touch so without permission I won’t be revealing his identity, sadly.

Anyhow, Adrian was studying at NIDA at the time, and he offered to workshop the character of the old man for me. Here’s how it happened.

Step 1: I gave Adrian a brief overview of the old man. His name is GL Solomon, and nobody uses his first name. I told Adrian he could create a name if he needed to. He lives alone. He is in his late 70s. He hates cats. He also hates processed cheese, and the way the teacup rattles in the saucer when he picks it up. He loves reading fishing magazines but never goes fishing. He is driven by routine and order. Stuff like that.

Step 2: Over the next few months, I hand-wrote letters from the girl, Anouk. I stuck old NYC ticket stubs in them from the last time I’d visited, I threw in mementos like old USA pennies and used-up metro cards and branded napkins. I put each letter in an airmail envelope, stuck used USA stamps on the outside, and dropped them in Adrian’s letterbox when I knew he wasn’t home.

Step 3: Each time he got a letter Adrian, in the character of the old man, would read it. Later, he’d let me know what the old man thought of it, how he reacted, and how it impacted the way he went about his daily life and routine. His first piece of feedback was, “the old man finds it very difficult to read her handwriting,” so Anouk conveniently borrowed her landlady’s antique typewriter to continue her epistles.

Together, Adrian and I developed the wonderful, gruff, curmudgeonly old man who is GL Solomon in the book. Reading Airmail, you’ll see I’ve used a Dickensian technique of never telling you how the old man is feeling: you'll seldom read “the old man thought this” or “the old man felt that.” Instead, this comes out in his behaviour and his external environment. For example, you know something’s up when he breaks routine.

It's what actors do on the stage, of course, and in Airmail I think this works and I hope you agree. It makes a good contrast to Anouk, who barely stops telling you what she's thinking and feeling. This all happened around 2003/4, and I still think Mr GL is one of the loveliest, best drawn, most complex and restrained characters I have ever written. Probably because I didn’t write him, Adrian became him.

Thanks Adrian, wherever you are!