1. I’m waiting for the final edit for Losing It to arrive in my mailbox. While waiting I’m pondering a) who should launch it and b) what the playlist should be. My wishlist for a) includes Bettina Arndt, Kathy Lette and Germaine Greer (actually, the person I’d really have liked to launch it is the fabulous, late Dorothy Porter, RIP), or a smart, funny, sassy young woman. Any suggestions, let me know. I’m hoping to launch in Perth and Melbourne in April.
For b), I have a list of the obvious suspects from the days of my youth (Salt n Pepa, Prince, U2, Prince, George Michael, Prince) and a few from my daughter’s iTunes catalogue (Jizz in my Pants by Lonely Island for one). However, the problem with contemporary music is the embarrassment of riches it provides in such matters. (Listened to the lyrics of 50 Cent’s Candy Shop lately?) I don’t have any problem with sexual explicitness, obviously, but I do have a problem with the way that female pleasure doesn’t seem to rate a mention in pop culture (Missy Elliot notwithstanding). Part of the reason I wrote the novel is because it’s perfectly fine for young female characters to fall in love, but God forbid they actually might want to have sex. Sex and romance get horribly tangled, and girls get a raw deal. Anyway, I’ll get off my soapbox. As with a), any suggestions, let me know.
2. I’m discovering one of the perils of being a mid-career writer: the email that tells you your novel is out of print. I’m up to the point where practically half of my catalogue falls into this hideous category. However, The Girl Who Fell Into A Book has just been given a new lease of life in this:
Details here. If you have a girl aged between 5 and 7, it’d be an awesome Christmas present. Just saying.
3. If you had a choice between peace and excitement, what would you choose? Last weekend I got to combine both with a party for my cousin’s 40th and staying in a place where my morning view was this:
before going for a swim in an ocean that looked like this: