It's a jungle out there
On reaping what you sow, feast and famine, frogs and February
Happy February friends,
I’m a fair weather gardener. That sounds like a lazy metaphor, but it’s true. Some months I’m all in – weeding, pruning, feeding, watering, harvesting, carefully selecting new plants – others I hardly go out there. Luckily, having a hardy courtyard garden filled with things that would survive an apocalypse means the plants don’t suffer too much. Even after months of neglect, my little rectangle oasis is still mostly green and alive. Sometimes abundantly so, blooming in ways I don’t feel I deserve. But then I remember that was me out there last winter, getting leaves in my hair and lacerating my thin-gloved hands on thorns as I tried to prune rose bushes the way my Nan and YouTube told me to. I did the work, I just forgot about it. I *do* deserve that flower.
Last year felt a bit like that. I hardly wrote anything new, just three little picture book manuscripts, none of which have sold (yet). My two half-baked kids’ novels sat neglected. I’d gone full throttle on one the year before thanks to an ASA Mentorship, but lost momentum since then and didn’t know how to do what still needed to be done. On paper I looked busy (I launched my first book! Landed an agent! Sold a four-book junior fiction series*!) It was all very exciting, don’t get me wrong, but it felt a bit like cheating because I hadn’t made any new stuff for months (and *months*). But then I remembered I’d done the work. I wrote The Garden at the End of the World in 2020, and my junior fiction series began as part of a writing course in 2019. Both were peer critiqued, one professionally assessed, both revised and rewritten countless times. My junior fiction series was rejected 19 times.
Then, one day, they bloomed.
The other thing about gardening is no matter how much or how little you do, plants have their own schedule anyway. Some fruit trees, like our neglected lime, alternate their productive years. One year they have nothing much going on, the next they can’t stop dropping fruit. It’s a bumper season at the moment. Every morning I find piles of fallen limes like little green Easter eggs under the tree. Next year I suspect there will be a lot less.
We’re like that too, although we forget. It might feel icky and anxious during the fallow times, but it’s part of the process. We can’t be productive all the time, we’re not designed that way (now repeat that out loud in the mirror).
CURRENTLY …
WORKING ON
*In case you missed the news on Insta, I’m thrilled to share I have a sweet little junior fiction series debuting this year, all about friendship, conservation and frogs! Ella and the Frogs is illustrated by talented newcomer Hykie Breeze and will be published by the lovely folk at UWA Publishing. The series is aimed at early readers (5 to 8 years old), but would also make a great read-aloud or read-together chapter book for home or the classroom.
Keep an eye out for the first one, Ella and the Amazing Frog Orchestra, in the second half of 2024. I hope it appeals to little animal lovers, budding eco warriors and fans of What Zola Did, Violet Mackerel, Lemonade Jones and Ivy and Bean. Promotion for Book 1 and writing deadlines for Book 2 and 3 should keep me busy for most of this year.
READING
This summer I read Sea Glass by Rebecca Fraser (a lovely gentle middle grade about family, loss, forgiveness, cricket and seaside treasure hunts), Bird by Sophie Cunningham (about a woman on a quest to learn about her mother from those who knew her at different stages of her colourful and complicated life, from wartime refugee to Hollywood starlet, jazz muse to addict to Buddhist nun), Lani and the Universe by Victoria Carless (a sweet middle grade novel about a science nerd who is whisked away to live on an alternative community full of free range play and kids called Lentil, how she resists and what she learns about the universe along the way) and Burn by Melanie Saward (a vivid, gripping story about adolescence and fire and family and intergenerational trauma and healing – main character Andrew’s voice was so compelling I tore through this one). All highly recommended.
WATCHING
Currently enjoying Better Things (SBS On Demand) about an actor/single mum raising three complicated daughters and caring for her eccentric mother in LA. Raw and funny with occasional heart-swelling moments. Also surprised myself by mostly loving Boy Swallows Universe (Netflix). I haven’t yet made it through the book, and almost quit after the first two gory episodes, but was glad I went the distance – the stellar performances (especially young Eli!), humour and gritty 80s Brisbane aesthetic were worth it. According to the internet and Dalton there was a lot of magical thinking/magical realism in the story (which makes sense for a book half based on his own life, filled with things he wishes he could have done differently) but I’m not sure that came across in the series, the ending felt more like it had jumped the shark. Now I want to dig up my copy to see if that element comes through more in the book. I have a sneaking suspicion a lot of writers (maybe especially kidlit writers?) do so because they want to relive or rewrite some aspect of their own lives. Thoughts?
LISTENING
I recently managed to resurrect my iPod shuffle from circa late-2000s. I was thrilled when I found it, convinced it contained my ultimate running playlist – perfectly-paced and curated by me for me. But it turns out late-20s me had incredibly dubious taste?! Lowlights would have to be Hole and Metro Station. There were some some saving graces, like Florence and the Machine. And for all his (many) flaws, Kanye’s Power remains the perfect tempo for my slow AF running pace. Still, I’m not sure I can stomach Past Cassy’s sh*tty taste again. Might be time for a new playlist.
The brand new podcast All The Ways I’ve Failed, on the other hand, was a treat for my ears. Children’s author Bec Marshalley chats to athletes, creatives and others about their failures, we all have a laugh and ironically come away feeling inspired.
Until next time, amici ~ fail hard and go easy on yourselves,
Cassy