Daughters Arrived Today

The draft copy of my new book A Letter for My Daughters arrived today. It seems so long ago that I started on it.  But it is only two years…Wow that is incredible… I remember sitting in my office writing a war scene for my follow up novel to Kiss… and looking out the window at my daughters and grandchildren talking and playing outside. I knew I had to write something for them. It started off as a letter and grew into this book sitting in front of me now. It was a book that tumbled out of me I had the bulk written in six months the rest has just been “tidying up”. Then I called it “Daughters Something’s I have to tell You” but time changes things and the title now better reflects the origins of the book.

I remember when I received the first copy of “Kiss” I sat and shed a tear for a while I was quite overcome.  This one is different it is a relief to get it back and see it for real that for sure,  it’s nice to see it completed that’s for sure. But this one being in the hands of a publisher (JoJo) meant that the processes of it getting into hard copy were more remote. Editing, graphic artists, printing were all their people and even though I liaised with them closely it was still a little bit away from me.

But it is something to savour to hold in your hands and to appreciate. This little thing, this creation this small piece of me. It will be here for ever because words never die they linger and linger down the years and into the future. Now time to have a quiet drink and celebratory sharing with my most ardent supporter and confidante –Maureen.


Some marketing and distribution to do now but we are in sight of official publication.

Here is the old post from when the draft of  "The Kiss" arrived....
10/01/2011
I arrive home from work with half a BBQ chicken. Maureen is in Bendigo visiting her mum. I flick open a beer look at the table. There is a package there, and a post card from my brother Peter; Colonel Chamberlain who saved the Union at Gettysburg, what a man,  Maine professor of Humanities or some such, Medal of Honour, four times Governor, good bloke. I pick up the package, I put it down again. Bogie sniffs the chicken, I sniff apprehension. I go out to the garden seats, turn on the radio listen to a talking book on ABC National. (.Douglas Copeland -Player One)
Why do BBQ chickens all taste the same, are they clones, or do they have a factory somewhere  putting together BBQ chickens. Bogie likes it. The package sits there, looking at me I look at it. Seven years of work comes down to this, so small.
I feed the fish in the wine barrel pond. Think of the ones that were here before, grand kids fed them dog food when we were away.
Bogie doesn't like the stuffing, bloody fussy buggar I tell him. He wags his tail, bloody dogs they only have the present, lucky bastard. I read the postcard from Peter. Twins are the same, he writes like me or me like him. I came first so he writes like me! Clones like the same things;  old battle fields, progressive politics, thin girls with long hair...
I look at the package on the table, such an innocent package. Bogie has a bird bailed up in the chook pen, it has a chance of dying if it comes out the wrong way. Another avian body to pick up off the lawn. Bogie does not have a sense of humour with Sparrows, Blackbirds and Indian Minors. The chooks ignore him, they have mastered the art of survival through indifference. (like some people)
I finish my beer, bloody nice, the wind stirs in the trees, there is  a storm coming. I pick up the package, balance it in my hands. Put it down again. The characters swarm through my head, I love them people, even the ones I don't like, I love. Is that crazy, Bogie thinks so, but then the bird has got away.
I open it, I love it, I cry...
I go in and watch the news, a show on twins, phone Peter, watch the battle of Gettysburg video and read my book until after twelve that night.

Some marketing and distribution to do now but we are in sight of official publication.