Jacinta Lou – Writer

Category: comfort zone

  • Speed Dating – the literary kind!

    Speed Dating – the literary kind!

    This year I’ve devoted my energy to having my writing assessed and working on improving my craft. Writing is a craft. Writing picture books is a craft I am still working on. Those deceptively simple texts require so much work. Each word has to earn its place. Each story has to impress a publisher, get through their acquisitions process and ultimately be something people will buy.

    Even if you get the story right, it might not fit with what publishers are looking for. Maybe you sent it to the wrong publisher and it doesn’t fit their brand. Maybe it just doesn’t pop enough for a yes. So many reasons it might not be accepted that have nothing to do with how well you write. Things you can’t control. But writing is within your control and so this year I have had assessments with editors and at CYA. I’ve entered competitions. I’ve worked on writing short stories and poems for children. I’ve participated in critique groups. All with the goal of improving my writing.

    But have I done enough?

    Back to speed dating. No, not that kind. Who has the time? I honestly can’t remember the last time I went on a date, speedy or otherwise. But that is a story for another time…maybe 🙂

    Literary speed dating is run by the Australian Society of Authors, ASA, and they run several rounds each year. This round I was lucky enough to get two spots and now I’m preparing my three minute pitches to two publishing houses.

    I say lucky because the system crashed and I think I was so lucky to catch a window when the system was working. I don’t think I would get through otherwise. I’m slow on a keyboard!

    I’ll have three minutes to demonstrate to the publishers my story is worth a look! Three minutes to sell my story!

    I’m nervous but excited. I have done all I can to be ready and the rest is down to if they want to read my story. and that is down to how well I pitch!

    I’m still fiddling around with the pitch. That’s another skill I’ve been learning. I’ve organised some of my critique partners to listen so I can practice. It’s exciting.

    And absolutely terrifying!

    I’m pitching a story I haven’t released into the world yet so they will get first look if I pitch well enough.

    If they like my pitch, if it fits their brand and if they want to know more, they will ask for the manuscript. If not I will start sending it out to other publishers. It’s a story I’m quite passionate about so I will keep trying.

    You never know where a Yes will come from. It might come from a story found in the slush pile. It might come from a CYA assessment. Or it might come from three minutes spent pitching to publishers through ASA’s Literary Speed Dating.

    I’ll keep working and hoping one day it will be a YES.

    Watch this space!

    • Time to go on! – Submission ‘Stage Fright!’

      Time to go on! – Submission ‘Stage Fright!’

      Like most writers, I started writing books for children when my children were small. I’ve lost all trace of anything written back then, but I still have some scribblings I did for my eldest granddaughter, which I may resurrect at some stage.

      In 2021, I did a picture writing course with Zanni Louise through the Australian Writers Centre and I fell in love. I did another course in 2022 through The Sunshine House, and I sent out a couple of stories to the crashingly loud sound of silence!

      I have been active in critiques groups and the kidlit community, so I decided 2023 was the year of assessments. Time to get my existing stories into shape to send out into the world. Or to shelve them. I had assessments with editors and of course, CYA. It’s been hectic!

      So here I am in the closing scenes of 2023 getting ready to send my stories out into the world of publishers!

      I still don’t think they are ready and I’ve heard stories of writers who have taken decades to write the perfect story, but I’m not sure I have that amount of time, so ready or not, here they come!

      I have zero expectations, but it was my plan to have stories to send out, so I’m sticking to the plan!

      I belong to a couple of fabulous critique groups and one in particular has a very encouraging cheer leader who brings us along with her enthusiasm. Yes! We can do this! Eeek – I hope at least one of us has success. That’s the best thing about writing for children. Although we all strive for the same thing, there is no sense of competition and we genuinely celebrate other writer’s success. Well, maybe there is a little disappointment, but we are mostly very excited for every writer who succeeds!

      So, in the past week, I have entered two stories to ‘Pitch it’, run by Just Write for Kids Australia, yesterday I was successful in booking two spots in the Australian Society of Author’s Literary Speed dating, to be held later in October and I sent a story out to a publisher! Tomorrow I’ll be sending out more stories and then I will start work on my next batch, patiently waiting in the wings, to get them ready to go out into the world!

      I’m not great at sending things out. I seem to get ‘stage fright’ once I know I am writing a submission and I stutter and stammer and write ridiculous things in my cover letters. Well I did last year. I cringe thinking about it. But in my defence, I did have pneumonia, so everything made perfect sense at the time. And why is it, typos and repeated words etc ONLY become visible AFTER you hit send?

      It’s been a year, so hopefully there have been so many submissions, commissioning editors will have forgotten me. Please let them forget!

      So, I’m on track. My babies are going out into the big wide world of publishing and I wish them every success in finding a home. I will welcome them back at any time, but I may push them out somewhere else and give them the best chance. I really don’t want them to be homeless.

      Now to work out how to conquer ‘submission stage fright’ and write great covering letters! Ironically, I have never experienced actual stage fright. Perhaps writing means more to me 🙂

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    • Automatic to Manual

      Automatic to Manual

      I recently had to replace my car. I loved my X-Trail. I loved the number of cup holders, the storage space for all my bits, the comfy seats – if only the head gasket hadn’t blown. So now I have a much earlier model Honda CRV. It only has one cup holder, no compartments for all my bits and the seats are not as comfy, but unlike the X-Trail – it goes! Which is, after all, all you really want from a car. Also, unlike the X-Trail – it’s a manual!

      I learnt to drive in a manual. I had a 1956 Morris Minor bought with the money I saved working at the neighbour’s fish and chip shop my last couple of years of high school. I also had a 1975 Ford Escort van so I had something to drive and sleep in, when the Morris was being repaired. The thing with the Morris, and most early model cars, was there was no synch in first gear. Which meant you had to stop the car to go back into first. For those of you who have always driven automatics, just skim past.

      So on the day I went for my licence, I drove through Hobart peak hour traffic in second gear without ever going back to first for stops and starts. My father was in the back trying to nudge me to let me know, while the testing officer was completely oblivious. He had just won lotto. His mood was not going to be changed by my driving. I’m not sure I deserved my licence and to this day, I have never claimed to be a good driver. Not one single individual will argue the opposite!

      In the Army, I had to learn to drive land rovers and commodores! I didn’t apply to join Transport and drive trucks and no one suggested I go there, but for a few months I was the Commanding Officer’s driver. This was supposed to involve driving him around, but he insisted on driving most of the time, once we got outside the gates. I enjoyed driving back then. I drove the retiring RSM from Wodonga Vic to Perth WA in his land rover, towing a caravan and I drove from Melbourne to Townsville in my Escort van to take up my new post. I was a teenager. I knew no fear!

      To obtain my police driver’s licence so I could drive the cars with the flashing blue lights, I had to learn to drive all over again. I loved the skid pan. I think the point was to control the skid but I loved making the car skid harder. I was eventually granted a ‘D’ grade licence. I didn’t actually cause any accidents so they reluctantly passed me.

      Anyway – back to now and back to driving a manual car after twenty years in an automatic. It’s been a challenge. The biggest challenge has been remembering which gear I am in. I’ve crunched through a few trying to work it out but it just means I have to pay attention. And that made me reflect on how little attention I had paid to my driving when in an automatic. I just pushed the pedal and drove!

      I’m not a person who excels at automatic tasks. even typing, my brain keeps getting involved and trips me up. Back to the police academy and the list of things we had to achieve to graduate. One of them was to touch type at 30 words a minute. Some in our class could type three times that with ease but I struggled. Remember this was on a typewriter! On the rare occasion I just reacted and cut out the middle man, my fingers and eyes managed to get to the magical 30, but most of the time as soon as my brain realised things were happening without its involvement, fingers hit wrong keys or forgot where they were and the test failed. If only I could just type without thinking! But driving without thinking I achieved and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

      At the police academy, we had to do a running commentary as we drove to ensure our brain was always present and so were we. How many of us are truly present when we are driving? How far ahead do you look? Are you watching to see if that driver coming out into traffic has seen you? Have you estimated how likely it is that the light will turn red before you reach it? What’s happening behind you? Have you looked?So much to think about but how many of us do it?

      So the point of this rather convoluted journey down memory lane is that going back to driving a manual has forced me to be present when I’m driving, if only so I can remember what gear I am in. Am I in fifth or third? If I go back and across will it be fourth or second? Driving is no longer an automatic task and I’m sure that’s the way it should be.

      The same with writing. I can and do sit down and write without thinking. These blog posts are more or less an automatic response to a prompt I have given myself and I just write what comes into my mind. Automatic. It’s ok. Most of the time it makes sense. It might even be entertaining but is it great writing?

      Writing is what happens when you switch off the automatic and go into manual. What gear am I in? Does this sentence belong here? Have I built up tension or can I go back to third? What’s this character even doing in my story? Do I need them? What is their role? Do I need to slow things down or speed up to reach the top? Writing requires the writer to be present and know which vehicle is being driven, in what gear and at what speed. The writer needs to be able to see what is coming and take the reader with them, not leave them on the side of the road waiting for an uber.

      Writing, like driving, requires skill and the ability to know where you are going and how to get there. It may be fun to stay in automatic and just write, just drive, but if you want to write things people will love to read, you need to go back to manual and keep working on the craft and skill that is writing!

      I’m still working on it:-)

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    • Four O’clock in the Morning! What the…?

      Four O’clock in the Morning! What the…?

      Friday morning I generally get up at six so I can get ready and walk the dog before I go to my daughter’s house at seven fifteen to take my grandson to school. So this Friday, I looked at my Fitbit, yes six am, got up, showered, got dressed and asked Google about my day. To say I was shocked when she told me in her clipped British accent (I have mine set to UK) the time was FOUR twenty five did cause some frantic looking for my phone to check and yes, with sleep in my eyes and my Fitbit set to night mode, and without my glasses, I had misread the time. Didn’t I feel like a dill?

      No wonder the dog was still asleep!

      Never mind, I did wordle, listened to a podcast and cooked myself breakfast. I still had time to get the washing on the line and plan my day!

      I dropped my grandson off at school at 8:30 am. With some extra time on my hands, I parked my car at the new park and ride and took a bus to Hobart to get a book I ordered. I had never used it before but I met a lovely young lady at the bus stop who promised to go on before me so I would know what to do with the green card I’d purchased previously, just in case I ever needed to catch a bus!

      I know what you are thinking. How hard is it to catch a bus? I live in southern Tasmania where the closest bus stop is two kilometres away, and the walk is on the verge on the side of a road trucks and cars speed along and it’s just scary. Before that I lived almost twenty years in a town without a bus. So now I can drive to the next town and park my car for free and it’s great!

      Safely on the bus, I enjoyed the short trip to Hobart and thanked my new friend. I found the bookshop, a fabulous place called Cracked and Spineless. It’s a shop filled to the ceilings with new and second-hand books and is a must visit if you are ever in Hobart. I could just get lost in there. But I’m trying not to buy so many books. Trying but not succeeding! I came out with the book I wanted, plus another.

      My plan was to jump on the next bus back and make this a very efficient use of time. I’d be home for morning tea. But it was such a lovely day, and I didn’t have to worry about the cost of parking, so I decided chips on the docks were a great idea.

      But on the way, I saw the open topped double-decker tourist bus that drives around Hobart and I thought, what a fabulous way to see the city! So I found myself being a tourist! I loved it. As a driver, you just don’t see much, and sitting up high in the brisk Hobart air was exhilarating! Well, it was for me. Hobart is built in the foothills of kunanyi, Mount Wellington, so as we travelled closer to the mountain, the weather cooled and those tourists dressed for a sunny day soon regretted wearing shorts.

      The tour ended back at the docks, so I continued with my original plan of chips on the water front. I discovered one of the punts in Constitution Dock has an outdoor seating area facing the dock, so bonus for my fish and chips on the dock. Yes, I added fish. I’d built up a hunger being bussed around!

      Finally, I was back on a bus headed to my car. I was back home by one, so, in theory, lots of time for writing, but I’d been up since four, so the couch won me over. I watched the latest Little Mermaid, so still in the world of fairy tales and kidlit.

      As I reflected on my day, I realised recent changes to public transport had indeed made it easier to use busses and I will definitely be using them more often. If I just catch the bus in and go straight back, I get more time. I won’t have to find a park and I’ll save money.

      But will I be able to stick to that? I’m not sure it matters. It was lovely to enjoy the city without worrying about traffic (yes, Hobart has traffic), getting stuck on the outlet or waiting in queues for the multi story car park. Or spending half an hour getting to town, rushing to pick up a book (it’s always a book. No bookshops where I live.) and racing back to the car before the free parking expired. If I hadn’t caught the tourist bus and stopped for fish and chips, my detour to Hobart would have only cost me $3.10, but I loved being a tourist for the morning and enjoying Hobart without the other worries, so no regrets.

      As a writer, it’s easy to spend my time in my head. At my computer. Or staring into space while my mind races through ideas. But it felt good to get out into the world and see my home town as a tourist. Lots of fodder for new stories, plus a very enjoyable day.

      When was the last time you let yourself be a tourist in your home town?

      Let me know in the comments.

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    • Car Trouble and Comfort Zones

      Car Trouble and Comfort Zones

      Is there anything worse than car trouble? I’m sure there are a million things worse, but when you live in the bush with no public transport, car trouble can feel like the end of the world.

      But I’m a hermit, I hear you say, and that is true, but I still need to get to the shops, take my grandson to school and, most importantly, pick up books from the post office or the library. It’s a 30 km round trip, so too far to walk. Car trouble is serious!

      I’ve known my car was dying for a while, so only drove it when I had to while I saved for a replacement. But my anxiety driving it increased to the extent I had to take action.

      Facebook market place. I’ve always bought from car dealers, but as this last one came from a dealer with preexisting problems they wouldn’t cover, I saw no advantage going back, so I searched for vehicles, and more importantly, reputable sellers. It’s a minefield out there.

      My rusty investigative skills came in handy. If a deal looked too good to be true, I looked up the seller to see if they were even in Tasmania. Quite a few weren’t. If I answered an add and the seller was pushy or wanted a deposit before I’d even seen the car, block and move on. Eventually, I found a car advertised by someone with a mutual friend. Now that in no way guarantees the car, but I did trust the seller was a real person and I answered straight away. I now own that car and the mechanic said it was safe to drive and in good condition for its age. One problem solved.

      Now I had to sell my dying car. Still going but not healthy. Aha – this is the reason I buy from car yards. I can get rid of my other car with no hassles.

      I advertised on FB, making sure I worded the advert to specify the car was dying and only suitable for a mechanic or someone who wanted it for parts. I had zero expectations.

      Within minutes, my phone was blowing up with responses. Over thirty before I switched it off. The person I sold it to was initially very pushy, so I wouldn’t deal with him, but had I understood the industry, I would have sold my car for the asking price in five minutes. As it was, I sold it for the price I wanted within twenty minutes and organised to meet the next day to complete the transaction.

      I WAS NOT going to meet an unknown person with a tow truck in the bush at night! Some comfort zones are safety zones. No need to stretch those!

      It seems there is a whole word of people who buy cars like mine and rebuild, resell or scrap and getting in first is quite competitive, hence the pushiness. You learn something new with each new experience.

      So what has any of this got to do with writing picture books? I’m glad you asked. This year has been a year of stretching myself and gaining confidence in my writing and myself as a writer in a very competitive (but very kind and not pushy) industry. I’ve conquered some fears with CYA and I’m working up to submissions.

      Once upon a time I would never have e dreamt of selling a car on my own. Even buying filled me with dread. I tend to drive within the car’s capacity until I’m forced to take action.

      Parents are good sounding boards, even if they don’t know about the subject. Dad always knew the questions to ask and what to look for, but I’ve lost mine so this one, I had to do alone. And I think facing my fears with CYA made me strong enough to face my fears about buying and selling my car.

      I think if you aren’t putting yourself out of your comfort zone, just a bit, that zone shrinks and your world gets smaller. I’ve seen it in myself and others, especially after lockdowns and retirement.

      It’s easy to live a small life. But, as Malcolm Fraser once said, ‘life wasn’t meant to be easy!’

      What if you faced a fear or three and stretched what is comfortable? What would happen then? What if you made your life, ‘not easy’ a little bit at a time?

      For me – I now have a car I feel safe in and can leave the property more often. I also know I will never put up with a broken car because the process of changing it is hard.

      Stretching the comfort zone becomes an ever-increasing circle.

      I stretched by having assessments at CYA. That gave me the confidence to do something about my car and now I’ve done that and sorted out all the insurance, registrations, etc. I will use that sense of accomplishment to submit some stories.

      Coffee first!

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