Hello again, from me again, finally, again!

It’s June 12th 1999 and I’ve been so busy with Other Things that my Hot News Space has yet again a had time to cool right down. Apologies for the slackness. Explanations follow in a moment!

I do read the Guest Book on this website and love the messages. Thanks a million! I’m enormously grateful. I’m woefully sorry that I can’t reply to them. It does seem rude. I hope you’ll understand that writing books and looking after my frail mum and ancient dad, my neglected husband and loyal dogs has to come first.

Most fabulous news of the moment is the imminent arrival of Sleepy Bears, my latest BEAUTIFUL book (thanks to Kerry Argent and her awesome illustrations) which will be available by the end of June. In mid-July I’ll be off on a book tour which will take me to all the Australian capital cities except Darwin, so I hope to see some of you in person. Hurrah. Sleepy Bears is one of my most tender, most reassuring books for little kids. I hope against hope that it will make young children feel cosy and utterly safe in this uncertain world of ours.

My Australian literary agent, Jenny Darling, whom I adore, read the pages and pages and pages of this website and looked everywhere for some mention of her name. It was nowhere. She joked about it but hey, I felt embarrassed. She’s so important to me as a friend and in my publishing life that I’m amazed I haven’t told the world about her before. I cannot recommend her highly enough. Contact fax: 039.827.1270 Address: PO Box 413, Toorak, Victoria, 3142.

Other essential, much needed, and much loved people in my life are my editors: Jane Covernton and Sue Williams at Working Title Press in Australia and Allyn Johnston at Harcourt Brace in the USA. I don’t know (literally) what I’d do without them.

It’s hard to explain just how much work my editors do: none of my stories is ever written solely by me. The editors leave a very strong mark on every text, thank heaven. I appreciate being edited because I know it’s impossible be the best judge of my own work. Writers have to listen to editors closely without bursting into tears, and to work with them in a friendly manner. Being grand and getting into an almighty huff is totally pointless. I keep in mind that it’s my words which are being criticised, not me personally. I’ve had to develop humility it in order to develop my writing.

SO! Life since April has been crazy. I’ve been to the USA five times this year, once after being in Europe for a day or two to see Chloë in France and my sister Jan in a village in northern Italy. Worst jetlag ever when I got home: 4 countries in six days. I was out of it for ten days. In Italy, where my sister lives, I gathered fantastic local details for my hopelessly un-drafted adult novel. [People often say to me, “I think I’ll write a picture book one day, when I have the time.” It makes me so mad, as if time were all that mattered. “What about talent?” I feel like saying through gritted teeth, but I button my lips and smile politely because I was brought up to be like that: nice! Anyway, I’m blushing as I realise that in my head I’m saying exactly the same thing about the novel: “I think I’ll finish my novel one day, when I have the time.” It’s TRUE! As for having the talent, well!]

The other adult book, about reading to children and why it’s a Good Thing to do, is coming along nicely. I’ve finished the first draft and am about to start the slow work of re-writing. I think it will be one of the most important books I write so I’m going to be very finicky about getting it just so.

As usual I’m avoiding working on my picture books because they’re the most difficult of all. I hate them all with a desperate passion until they’re finished. One of my favourites of all time is a finished book called Hunwick’s Egg, but a truly perfect, sensitive illustrator is needed and I’m prepared to wait for a long time to find just the right person.

On the family front Malcolm had decided after all not retire from his position as drama lecturer at Flinders University next year. I think I scared him. I suggested he retire to be my slave. Hah! He can see that working in the university would much easier than being the slave of Mem Fox although I did promise him excellent pay and lots of perks. He does a mountain of work for me already, acts as a kind of manager, etc., so I’m not complaining. If he’s happy, I’m very happy.

What can I say about my darling mum and dad? Age wearies them. They are becoming so physically small I’m afraid they’ll disappear altogether and the thought of it makes me feel small and afraid inside. Dad still knows who I am which is a relief and smiles each evening when I walk into the home but sometimes I feel he will die in front of me. He’s nearly 87. Mum still reads the novels we read and gets as mad as we do about current political events in Australia. Nothing wrong with HER brain!

I saw Chloë and Jan in May for too short a time, about 36 hours each but it was much better than nothing. Paris in the spring with a sunny daughter was divine, divine. And Jan has become so Italian she made nettle gnocchi by hand for lunch: most exciting and totally delicious. It’s hard having family and so many close friends in other countries. Makes me feel sad that I left my parents in another country (Zimbabwe) when I was nineteen and never went back to live there. I didn’t think about it at the time.

If you are still reading this hot news, brava and bravo! I have rabbited on for ages. Until next time, all the best.

Mem xxx