Salvete, readers!
Sometimes ordering a coffee can be an ordeal…
‘Your name, please?’
‘Julian.’
‘Dulian? With a D. That’s unusual!’
‘Um, no. Julian. With a J.’
‘Oh. Isn’t that a girl’s name?’
‘No, it’s not a girl’s name.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Because we don’t really like it when people give us fake names. It makes things confusing.’
‘It’s an Italian name… A very old Italian name. You know, like Caesar.’
‘The salad?’
‘Can I have my coffee, please?’
Until next time,
Valete
Salvete, readers!
I didn’t last long as a teacher, for a few reasons. Long hours, lousy work-life balance, low pay. It wasn’t doing good things for my family. That, and it often felt more like being a prison warden whose job was to crush the spirit of the inmates. That’s not me. That said, the experience of working with schoolkids did much to shape me as a writer. There’s one memory in particular that always makes me smile.
I’m on playground duty, watching to make sure the kids aren’t running on concrete or throwing the football on the roof or smooching or punching each other.
A bunch of boys are casually talking about me after class. I don’t remember their names now, so let’s call two of them Jim and Baz. They don’t know I’m in earshot.
‘That guy?’ says Jim. He’s a tall kid, gangly. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. ‘Gave me a detention for being two bloody minutes late. I hate him.’
His mate Baz pushes his long, stringy hair out of his eyes. ‘What? Mr. Barr? Nah, man. He’s cool. He’s a wizard.’
‘Hey? The fuck you on about, Baz?’
‘He’s a fucking wizard. Got the little glasses and beard and talks all posh. And he knows all kinds of shit and he’s chill. Like, I’ve seen him lose it maybe once. He’s like Dumbledore.’
One of the boys spots me and nudges Baz to shut up.
I walk on, pretending I can’t hear them. When it comes to behaviour, there are many worse things than bad language. Why get reactive? Generally, it only makes the situation worse and kills any possibility of establishing a rapport. And to be honest, I’ve worked with these kids for a while. They act tough, but there’s no real harm in them. Rough kids are generally okay. It’s the bullies I can’t stand.
As I continue on my rounds, Jim yells at my back. ‘Oi, sir! Are you a wizard?’
The other boys guffaw.
I turn, put on my most guttural voice. ‘Young knave,’ I say. ‘I answer not to a mere apprentice, for I am a Fire-Mage of the North.’ Not very good, maybe, but the best line I can conjure up on the spot.
The kids stare for a second. ‘Was that, like, a quote or something?’ says Jim.
‘Nah,’ I say. ‘Just made it up.’
‘Jesus,’ says Baz. ‘That totally sounded like you were quoting an actual thing.’
‘Why the hell you teaching, sir?’ says Jim. ‘You should be a writer or something.’
He’s right, of course.
Anyway, from that day onward, I’m ‘Mister Wizard’ with those kids. Never had a problem with them again.
Until next time,
Valete
Salvete, readers!
Sorry I’m a little late with this update. It’s mostly because things have been going really well on the writing front. Hooray!
The upper MG historical fantasy I’m working on is growing little by little. It’s in good shape thus far. Marching ever forward and still on track to complete the manuscript by the end of the year. The story is set in a world very much rooted in Norse myth. I’m half-tempted to brew my own mead for, um, research.
In the meantime, a new and unexpected project has come up. My oldest son (aged 7) asked me if we could write a story together. He is really creative and I want to nurture that side of him, so of course I said yes. Together we brainstormed some ideas for a junior fantasy novel aimed at his age range. Think of Emily Rodda’s Rowan of Rin or Kate Forsyth’s Impossible Quest, and you’ll have a good idea of what I’m aiming at. The notion is that he comes up with ideas for the characters and I basically run with them. I read a chapter to him every second night and get his feedback.
Egads, what a challenge! Collaborating on an extended project with a 7-year-old is interesting in itself. But you know what? I love the experience of building a story together. I don’t even care whether it leads to publication, it’s bringing us closer. When it’s finished, he wants to print copies for all the kids in his class and give it to them for Christmas. As for the story itself, I’m in the honeymoon period. I’m pantsing it with only the vaguest idea where the story is going, which I’ve never really done before. And having the deadline of completing a chapter and have it ready to read aloud every two nights certainly drives the story forward. Reading it as a serialised bedtime story also helps me to resist the urge to go back and edit earlier chapters, otherwise it’ll make no sense to him. Basically I’m laying track in front of a moving train. There are far worse ways to tell stories. I’ve never written for this age range before, and I’m learning a lot of new techniques. All in all, it’s good preparation for the day when I transition from ‘aspiring’ to ‘professional.’
As a matter of fact, I should probably get back to it.
Until next time,
Valete