Here’s a brief and slightly warped view of my time there.

My flight from Brisbane left on FRIDAY the 13th. This was my hotel in Abu Dhabi. I was on the 13th floor. The 13th letter of the alphabet is M … for Michael. My room number was 6. If you take that away from the date I left (19th Jan) you get 13! I’m not superstitious so I didn’t place any significance on the fact that I caught on fire and fell down the open lift shaft on my first day. 

Me in my hotel room waving at the spy camera. Sure the security was great but I worried just a little about the privacy.

Here’s me in my hotel bathroom trying to take a photo of myself that will show the infinite reflections caused by two facing mirrors. There’s six hours of my life I’ll never get back.

Every hotel room has a little arrow on the ceiling like this one pointing towards Mecca. This shouldn’t be confused with the little arrows they have on the ceilings of hotel rooms in America which of course point towards Maccas.

This is the front entrance to The American Community School. If you can’t quite read the fine print it says, ‘Approach with caution. Wanted for crimes against Literature.’

Yes ok, I must admit it. I was slightly disappointed by the turn out for my big assembly address.

The Emirates Palace was very impressive. Wealth on a big scale. So handy to have all your coconut palms growing on the inside.

Emirates Palace again. Told you it was big. I found this parked in one of the back corridors!

On the other hand, I found the Emirates Palace Marina to be sadly under-whelming.

This is the view from the Emirates Palace. That Emirates flag you can see in the distance is possibly the biggest flag in the world. Reportedly it’s the size of a football field which I think must be terribly disheartening if you live in a country whose football fields are only the size of a flag. 

The amazing and stunningly beautiful Grand Mosque where too much gold, marble, crystal and semi precious stones is never enough. In the first photo you can see the biggest chandelier in the world hanging over a section of the world’s biggest hand-woven carpet. It reminded me so much of our foyer at home.

Apparently it’s just a mirage caused by the desert sun. All the buildings in Abu Dhabi are actually straight.

Well that’s about it so I bid a fond farewell to ibahD ubA ! (This sign probably looks better and makes more sense from the other side.) I had a great time meeting everyone at the American Community School and getting a chance to see some of the amazing sights of the city. A big thanks to Esther and the Booked Out Speakers Agency for helping organise the visit for me.  

Cheers
Michael

A Dozen Ways to be  Annoying on a Plane.

1. When they call passengers for Boarding, remember to fight your way furiously to the front. Under no circumstances let anyone slip in ahead of you! This is crucial of course, because if you are one of the first people on the plane, then you will have the obvious advantage of being one of the first people to take off and land as well. This will give you the jump on all the other, less perceptive passengers.
2. Don’t concern yourself about those silly regulations regarding carry-on bags. Heavens, they don’t apply to you! As long as you have something with wheels and a handle, who cares if it’s  the size of a bulk shipping container?  Sure, it will break the backs of three strong men and take a crane to lift it into the storage compartment; and sure, once there it will proceed to squash and crush all those other wimpy fit-within-the-maximum-dimension bags; but hey, that’s just part of the rich tapestry of life!
3. When looking for your seat, completely ignore all those little signs that clearly indicate that ’a’ is the window seat and ‘c’ is the aisle seat and just take a wild stab in the dark about which one is yours. And yes I admit, sometimes the row numbers don’t line up precisely with the actual rows, so maybe just try to sit in the general area indicated by the number and letter on your ticket. Don’t worry, someone else will eventually sort it all out for you. Almost certainly the person whose seat you have stolen.  
4. When you have decided on the possible location of your seat make sure you take your time getting yourself settled. These things just can not be rushed. Certainly it’s acceptable to stand in the aisle while you painstakingly rearrange every item in the storage locker so that your stuff fits comfortably and is easily accessible. Perhaps you could remove your suit coat and jumper and fold them lovingly into neat bundles while you are at it? The long line of people you are blocking won’t mind a bit. They will happily pass the time imagining themselves strangling a person with their own tie and disposing of the body in an overhead storage locker.  
5. Once you’re settled and the plane is taxi-ing out, ask questions and call for points of clarification during the Safety Talk. This is particularly effective if the instructions are pre-recorded.
6. When you are at last on your way, remember that you have two elbows and that your seat has two arm rests, so clearly they both must be for you.
7. When you have your earphones on and you’re watching the fabulous inflight entertainment  – eg Charlie Sheen’s wacky antics on Two and a Half Men – remember to constantly laugh out loud so everyone else knows how much you’re enjoying it. Also add some commentary if you can. Something like: ” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! He slept with her grandmother! Winning!”
8. When you want to turn the overhead light on, remember to always push the ’call’ button by mistake. This helps keep the cabin crew awake and on their toes. In any case, when they arrive to find out what the problem is, they will be able to turn on the light for you and save you all that effort. (This is an excellent thing to do during food service or major turbulence.)  
9. If you are going to push your seat back to the recline position make sure you do it at a time and in a manner that will cause maximum shock and discomfit to your fellow travellers. A good method is to ram it back with the thrust of a jet engine just as the person behind you has been served their meal. They should be eternally grateful to you, because this will cut down on the distance required to transport food from their plate to their mouth. Ideally if you ram your seat back hard enough, their food will automatically transport itself to their mouth – and surrounding areas.  
10. Even though the stranger beside you has answered your last three questions with single words or grunts and then quickly buried their head back in their book/magazine each time, by all means keep talking! They are probably just shy and secretly pining for companionship. Try bringing them out of themselves with some clever probing like, ”Hey I design sewerage systems and research skin diseases in my spare time. What do you like doing?”
11. If you have the window seat on a long flight, drink copious amounts of beer. This will give you the opportunity, every 15 minutes or so, to meet and greet the people beside you as they repeatedly shuffle into the aisle to let you out. On your return, remember to make a witty comment such as, “The old bladder’s not what it used to be!” as you order another round.
12. When you finally arrive at your destination, even though the cabin crew have told you numerous times to remain seated until the seatbelt light goes off, don’t pay any attention to that. As soon as you hear any kind of noise – like a bell chiming or a phone beeping or possibly just someone breaking wind – leap from your seat and immediately start ripping things from the overhead locker like a maniac. With a bit of luck you will have  beaten down the exit door and be halfway to the terminal before someone has a chance to point out to you that the seatbelt light is still on.

Cheers

Michael

Ever had one of those days?

No, me either.

But still, it’s a lovely thought.

Cheers
Michael

1. Get someone to give you a short, sharp whack to the side of the head with a blunt object. I know that this particular technique works well whenever I get a fuel blockage in the lawn mower so I’m pretty sure the same principle should apply to ideas stuck in the brain. (Just a word of caution. Make sure the person who you choose to administer the blow is at least vaguely fond of you.)

2  Ummmmmmmmm … aaaaaaaaaaaah … WHAAAACK!!!!!! Hey, I know! You could think of your favourite writer and ask yourself what they would do in the same situation. So if you’re stuck for ideas and you’re writing an action novel ask, ‘What would Matthew Reilly do now?’. If it’s a fantasy ‘What would Tolkien do now?’.  If it’s a short story, ‘What would Margo Lanagan do now?’. If you’re like me you might ask, ‘What would Markus Zusak do now?’.
Of course no matter who you choose, the answer is always the same, “He/She would probably come up with some really brilliant idea that would dramatically advance the plot, reveal character and totally enthrall their readers.” So, yeah, just do that.

3. Throw in the towel. Stare at the blank page/computer screen and say, “Oh well that’s it then. I’m stuffed. I got nothin’. What a joke. I’m not a writer. What was I thinking? I must have been crazy to start this story! I’m gonna eat some worms.” (Warning: This option does not come highly recommended.)

4. Look on your writer’s block not as a problem but an opportunity! Eg. ‘Hey while I’m temporarily bereft of ideas, I’ll have time to make myself a cup of coffee!’ Or, depending on the extent or your blockage, ‘Hey I’ll have time to clean the house/build that deck/study to become a doctor/find myself/complete the map of the human genome!

5. Blame external factors for your inability to come up with any decent ideas. ‘It’s too hot/cold/mild to write!’ ‘How can I be expected to think of any good ideas and watch Beauty and the Geek at the same time!’ ‘This computer’s crap! I need an iPad. I bet Tolstoy never had to put up with equipment like this!’ ‘All my teachers let me down. They should have MADE me pay attention in class. That’s their job!’ ‘I blame my external factors!’

6. Steal an idea from another book, preferable one by a long dead author who can’t accuse you of plagiarism. So for example: Not enough drama, emotion and tension in your children’s adventure story? Then why not have your protagonist lose a leg to a great white whale? (Tip: Maybe make it a beige whale in order to disguise the actual source of your inspiration.)

7. Use the ‘come back later’ technique. If you hit a difficult point in your story and you’re not sure exactly how to proceed just type in the line – Insert something interesting here  - and move on. This leaves you free to write the rest of the story and then ‘come back later’ to finish that tricky bit when you’re good and ready! However if your story ends up sounding like this …

Darius felt his stomach churn as he entered the grounds of his new school, Desolation High for the first time. Insert something interesting here. ‘Phew,’ sighed Darius on his last day, ‘I’m glad those five years are over!’

… you may still have some work to do.

8. Start asking ‘What if?’ questions to stimulate storyline ideas. What if my main character inherited a million dollars? What if he/she had to face his/her greatest fear? What if he/she isn’t what he/she seems? What if he/she has a secret? What if he/she is a transvestite?

NB: Types of ‘What if’ questions you should avoid - What if I never come up with another good idea ever again in my entire life? What if I totally suck at writing but everyone is too nice to tell me so? What if Hey Hey It’s Saturday comes back on TV again?

9. Use the power of positive thought. Repeat the mantra: “There is no such thing as writers’ block. There is no such thing as writers’ block.” Which is true. It might just be that you’ve entered a time in your life where, for whatever reason, you may not be able to think of any good writing ideas for a very, very, very long time. If ever.

10.  Recognise that writers’ block might actually be a good thing.  (This one’s a bit ridiculous but I’m running out of ideas here.) Have you ever thought that having to stop and think for a while, even a long while, might actually be a good thing? That maybe you don’t actually “suffer” from writers’ block, but rather ”benefit” from it. That all it means is that you’re pig-headed and determined and passionate enough about your writing to want it to be the very best it can be and that the ’block’ part is just you stubbornly blocking out anything that’s not good enough to be part of your work. Surely the worse thing you could possibly be as a writer is “easily satisfied”. Perhaps it’s more like “writers’ quality control” than “writers’ block”. But however you label it, isn’t it a good thing that you’re willing and able to tell your muse in no uncertain terms, “I’m still here you bastard and no matter how long it takes, I’m not going anywhere until you come up with something worthwhile!”

Cheers
Michael

1. Ummm …

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Well anyway while I’m thinking here, if you haven’t done so already, why not check out blog 28 for your chance to win the complete ISHMAEL series!

Cheers
Michael

I’m here to officially announce the never-to-repeated/while-stocks-last/no-rainchecks/for-this-week-only/you’d-be-mad-to-miss-it Amazing Ishmael Trilogy Giveaway Competition!

That’s right, here’s your chance to win the complete and unabridged Ishmael series – Don’t Call me Ishmael, Ishmael and the Return of the Dugongs and Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel – just in time for Christmas! (Unless I post them too late which I probably will, in which case they’ll be just in time for New Year!) 

Here’s what the critics are saying about the Ishmael Trilogy: “There are three books.”

What a thrilling treat for you or a friend or family member – or alternatively, what an extremely disappointing one for someone who hates to read.

But there’s more! Each of the books will be personally signed! (Not by me of course. That would be just too special. However I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone with time on their hands, and a pen who wouldn’t mind helping out.)

So here’s all you have to do to be in the running:

EITHER

(1) Write a thesis of approximately 60,000 to 100,000 words on ‘the significance and importance of the Ishmael Series within the great canons of world literature, with particular reference to the neo-classical, romantic and metaphysical schools’.

OR

(2) Just post the line ‘I want them books!’ in the comments section. Correct spelling, punctuation and word order are essential if you wish to avoid being asked to leave the tribal council immediately.

Additional terms & conditions what I thought of:

1. The winner must be resident in Australia or at least be able to supply an Australian postal address to which the books can be sent. Sorry no overseas posting – I’m not that generous!

2. Apart from the fact that I will just place the name of everyone who comments into a hat and draw one out, chance will play little part in selection of the winner.  

3. The competition will run for a week, or possibly longer, or shorter.

4. Once the winner is announced, no correspondence will be entered into – unless of course you email me and complain about the result and call me a fraud and a cheat and I send you back an arrogant and dismissive response and you return with a foul-mouthed and abusive barrage and I lose it completely and claim that you smell etc.

5. Attempts to flatter or bribe the organiser of the competition will be greatly appreciated but will not increase your chances of winning one iota. Ok maybe one iota, but definitely not two!

6. Members of my immediate family (wife and assorted fruits of my loin) will be ineligible to enter. Why would they need to? They’re all getting my books as Christmas presents anyway – just like every year!

7. If there are any other important terms and conditions I should have put in but forgot, I get to add them here afterwards and nobody is allowed to complain or make snide or cutting remarks. or take me to court. 

Well I think that about does it. Get your entries in! Don’t forget if only two people enter you’ll have a 50/50 chance of winning! If three people enter … … … … … … … … well you figure it out, I can’t be expected to do everything for you! 

Cheers & good luck

Michael

I guess everyone has an ‘unrequited love’ story buried in their past somewhere. Personally, I’ve got enough for a sizable anthology. Here’s the best, or worst, depending on how you like to look at it.

During my Dip Ed year at Uni I fell hopelessly in love with a girl in my English tutorial called Cassie. (Not her real name by the way. That was Suzie.) (Haha, just kiddin’. It was actually Sophie.) (Ok, I promise to stop doing that now.)

To me Chelsea Cassie was pretty much perfect. She was slightly built, more gypsy or hippie than fashion model, with longish hair, a voice that was a little frayed around the edges and sleepy brown eyes.  I often thought of her as “the Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands” which is the title of a beautiful twelve-minute long Bob Dylan song from the album Blonde on Blonde. At the beginning of the year Cassie presented a talk to our tutorial group. From that moment on, as far as my heart was concerned, it was pretty much ”Game Over man!”

Anyway as the Dip Ed year progressed Cassie and I became friends. Naturally I never mentioned how I really felt about her or asked her how she felt about me, because clearly that would have taken something akin to courage. Besides, surely it makes much more sense to live your life in blissful ignorance, whilst maintaining an eternal unfulfilled hope, rather than to actually take a risk and possibly find out what could be a very unpleasant and depressing truth. Surely? 

However one day when Cassie and I were discussing books and writers, we discovered that some of the books that she “just adored!” I hadn’t read. So, in order to further my literary education, she put together for me a small collection of her most beloved books to read over the upcoming break.

Anyway, fast forward to the last day of first semester; the day of our final exam. Somehow I had managed to pluck up the courage to ask Cassie out. After all, she’d given me her very favourite books, hadn’t she? That had to mean something, right? This was a  huge decision for me. I never took risks like this. A girl would have to beat me over the head with a club and drag me into a cave before I even considered there might be the remotest possibility she was interested in me. (I should point out here that the previous scenario rarely eventuated.) But that day, as I watched Cassie across a sea of desks, I decided if anyone was worth the risk of total heart annihilation, it had to be her.

After the exam I waited around nervously as the crowd dispersed and finally got her alone. We chatted about the exam and about the holidays and then I did something I thought I would never be able to do. I asked Cassie if maybe … you know if she wasn’t doing anything else … she might to like to … perhaps … go to the pictures … maybe tonight even … or do something … anything … you know … with me … sometime … anytime … but like … only if she really wanted to of course. (Except that under the pressure of the moment, I didn’t express it quite as cleverly as that!)

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on her face as she was taking in my words. Sort of a swirling whirlpool mix of surprise, confusion, dread, sadness and embarrassment.

Basically she said no – but in the nicest, kindest, gentlest possible way, because she really was lovely. And naturally I planted a fixed smile on my face like it was only a cup of coffee that she was turning down, and I laughed and told her it was fine and that I understood and not to worry about it and to be sure to have a great break and that I’d catch up with her next term and that, yes, I’d definitely read those books. Then I waved goodbye and strode off through the crowd with my fixed smile as my ever constant companion and climbed into my car and drove home.

And for every second of that drive home, I directed at myself the most foul-mouthed barrage of abuse I could conjure up for being such an idiot to think it could have ever turned out any other way. Oh and there may have also been a few very manly type tears. All I know is, I’ve never hated myself as much as I did that day.

Back at home, the holidays I’d been hanging out for like an oasis in the desert, had dissolved into just another barren wasteland. I left Cassie’s books on my desk where they sat for days as a mocking reminder of what a fool I’d been. It took almost two weeks before I had the heart to even hold one of those books. But before the holidays ended, I had read them all. 

In amongst them was a collection of short stories by J. D. Salinger called For Esme with Love and Squalor along with his three novellas Franny and Zooey; Raise High the Roof Beams, Carpenter; and Seymour: an introduction. I remembered how Cassie had hugged them all to her heart to show me how much she loved them.

So one day, I put my hurt aside and began to read.

And word by word, page by page and story by story, Cassie’s favourite books became my favourite books and  I forgave myself for loving her.

Cheers
Michael

 ps: For those who like a happier ending. A couple of weeks into the next term a girl from a different tutorial who Ididn’t know that well came up to me and beat me over the head with a club and dragged me into a cave. Or more literally, she asked me if I’d like to go with her to an upcoming University College Ball. I’m pretty sure I was saying Yes before I even knew what she was inviting me to. From that moment on, my year improved significantly.

pps: And here’s something a little weird. At the end of Dip Ed, I said goodbye to Cassie and we exchanged contact details that neither of us would ever use. I only ever saw her again once. It was the following year and strangely enough it was at my first ever Bob Dylan concert. She saw me in the crowd before the show. It was great to catch up and share stories of our first year out teaching. When she left, a friend who was there with me said, “Wow, who was that? I’m impressed. Man, she looked like the Sad-eyed Lady of the Lowlands!” I’d never mentioned anything about that nickname to anyone.

ppps: My favourite tale of unrequited or lost love, and possibly one of the saddest, is in the For Esme With Love and Squalor collection. It’s the short story called The Laughing Man.

“Stupid. Pathetic. Plotless. Stupid. Pathetic. Plotless. Stupid. Did I say pathetic? Oh yeah, and plotless. There’s not much to say about this book…It was that bad. I don’t even have enough respect for the book to review it properly, I’m just warning you to never ever ever ever ever ever ever read it.” (Goodreads Reader’s Review of Don’t Call Me Ishmael) 

The fact that the majority of my bad reviews come from close family and friends just adds to the pain.

So as befits my reputation as a humanitarian, I have put together some suggestions that I’m hoping will assist my fellow writers when dealing with the inevitable, less-than-complimentary reader responses.

I give you: TEN SURE-FIRE WAYS TO COPE WITH A BAD REVIEW.

1. Read the review carefully and pick up on any spelling, punctuation or grammar errors however minor, so that you can use them to undermine the credibility of the reviewer.

Eg for the review above: “Aaaa-ha! There should have been a full stop after ‘properly’ not a comma! This person is obviously illiterate – and probably a devil worshipping serial killer! What would they know about literature.”

2. Convince yourself that the review was really written by some famous author who was just insanely jealous of your brilliance and was trying to sabotage your success.

Eg for above: “Hey, I recognise that turn of phrase. You bastard Markus!!!”

3. Use Babelfish fish to translate the review into another language, preferably one with which you are unfamiliar. This will make it sound much more palatable. For instance, a comment like “This book really sucks big time!” in French becomes “Ce livre suce vraiment le de premier rang!” Really? You think my book is the ‘premier rang’? Awesome!

Unfortunately this tactic isn’t always a hundred percent effective, as the following Babelfish translation of part of my review shows.

“Stupide. Pathétique. Plotless. Stupide. Pathétique. Plotless. Stupide. Est-ce que j’ai dit pathétique ? Oh ouais, et plotless … “ (I think you’ll agree, the gist of the review is probably still evident to the discerning reader.)

4. Just man-(or woman)-up and take it on the chin! Seek comfort in the good reviews you’ve received from readers in the past who have genuinely enjoyed your writing.  Welcome the criticism, however harsh, with good grace, and understand that each reader is different and will come to your work with his or her own unique tastes, values and life experiences. Don’t fear criticism or resent it. Learn to accept it, embrace it and move on. And this above all else, be happy and content with the knowledge that you did your very best and that you put your heart and soul into everything you wrote – even if not everyone else appreciates your efforts.   (Sorry, just jokin’. Thought I’d slip a really ridiculous one in for a laugh.)

5. Use it as a tool for improvement. Look for any tips, techniques or constructive criticism in the review and try to apply them to your writing. Perhaps make a list (see blog 24 ) of the important things you must remember for next time.

          Eg:    1. Avoid being ‘stupid’ and ‘pathetic’ (apparently this is bad)
                    2. Include a ‘plot’
                    3. Google ‘plot’
                    4. Try using repetition for emphasis
                    5. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever read my own book

6. Rebut the criticism leveled at you calmly and pleasantly with wit, intelligence and logic.

Eg: “Oh yeah? Well you smell!” or perhaps“I’m stupid and pathetic? Well, do you know who I think is stupid and pathetic? Me! No, wait on, YOU! That’s who!”

7. Write a Letter to the Editor quoting large slabs of the review as clear proof that the Government needs to spend more money supporting people with mental health issues.

8. Desperately trawl the web for reviews of other people’s books that are even more scathing and negative than yours and you can take heart from someone else’s misery

9. Drink to forget

10. Write a blog.

Cheers
Michael

Cover artwork copyright – David Kennett 2004

The title character of my YA novel The Running Man was based on my childhood memories of a real man who used to scamper around the streets of Ashgrove.

This is how he is described in the book:

 Joseph called him the Running Man because he did just that – he ran, and he ran all the time. But when he moved, it was not in any graceful athletic way, but rather with a lopsided canter, as if he were being pursued by some demon that only he could see.

 To Joseph’s relief, their paths crossed only rarely, but when they did, his heart would race like the Running Man’s feet long after the frantic shuffling figure had disappeared from sight. And it was not just his desperate haste that made the Running Man unique. His clothes were old and worn and hung about his tall, thin frame like rags on a scarecrow, his long and wispy hair sprouting chaotically from under a crumpled short-brimmed hat. To add to his unnerving appearance, wide, bulging eyes shifted wildly above his sharp cheekbones. His overall manner was of someone who had been in hiding most of his life and had suddenly been thrust out into a strange and startling world.

Apart from my memories of his physical appearance and mannerisms, at the time of writing the book, I knew nothing about the real man who had inspired the title character. I didn’t know his name, where he lived, if he had any family or anything about his life and background. The Running Man’s story as revealed in the novel is purely fictional.

"Joseph would catch glimpses of the Running Man from time to time as he ghosted past Arthur Street and disappeared down Ashgrove Avenue, yet he usually had no idea where the Running Man came from or where he was headed." The Running Man p26

The real name of person who I labeled the Running Man, and who others knew as Speedy, was Lawrence. He passed away around 20 years ago but a lot of people still remember him.

A few days ago I met a man on one of my early morning walks who knew something else about Lawrence. He said his Aunt had told him that Lawrence had a passion for Steamrollers. In fact his Aunt said that once when they were doing roadworks in Ashgrove they would leave the steamroller parked on the street overnight and Lawrence would sneak out and sleep beside it.

For some reason this story made my day. Something about a man who everyone remembers mainly for his frantic, desperate haste loving something as predictable and slow-moving as a steamroller really appeals to me.

What’s that they say about opposites attracting and truth being stranger (and perhaps even more beautiful) than fiction?

Cheers
Michael