It’s a very strange time to be launching a new book… especially one set on a cruise ship!
But here she is: AUDREY ORR AND THE ROBOT RAGE, my new Middle Grade comedy adventure, out now with Maverick Publishing.
Cover Illustrations by Ipek Konak
What’s that? You want to read the back and find out what it’s all about? Of course!
And yes, in case you’re wondering, I had to put in a lot of tricky research for this one, with my very own cruise to Norway. (Now THAT’S commitment for you!) AND I knitted myself a pink Viking helmet, just like the one Audrey’s grandad knits her, especially for the occasion!
AUDREY ORR AND THE ROBOT RAGE was selected for this year’s Reading Agency Summer Reading Challenge. (Target age range: 7-12).
So here we all are. Strange times, eh? I hope everyone is keeping well and finding their own way that works through all of this.
Today’s post is about a competition I entered back at the start of March, when things felt very different. I’d forgotten all about it until yesterday when I saw the results, but finding out I’d been shortlisted was a much-needed boost at a time when regular writing rhythms feel a little out of reach.
This was my first time entering the Australian Writers’ Centre 55-hour Furious Fiction competition and it was great fun, despite a slight cock-up on the time difference / computer refresh front, which meant I only made the deadline with minutes to spare!
This month’s challenge called for a 500 word flash fiction that included a park, a mirror and someone in disguise. I thought I might share my entry, ‘And the Prize for Best Parent Goes to…’ here, for any stressed parents looking for a spot of light relief from the challenges of home-schooling. And if you’d like to find out more about the competition and sign up ready for next month’s challenge (Friday 3rd April) you can do that here and here. Good luck!
And the Prize for Best Parent Goes to…
A tree? Effie couldn’t believe it when he brought the note home. What kind of half-assed non-part was that to give a kid? Especially a kid with Caleb’s natural acting talent and artistic flair. Since when was a tree part of the Nativity anyway? But that was last week. If life’s taught Effie anything, it’s the importance of working with what you’ve been given.
“They’ll be sorry when you’re up there collecting your Oscar,” she tells him, zipping him into the hand-sewn trunk. “Breathe in now, there’s a good boy. Yes I know it’s tight. It’s meant to be tight. When did you last see a baggy tree?”
“I’m hungry,” says Caleb. “Please can I have an ice cream? Daddy always buys me ice creams when we come to the park.”
Yes, that’s exactly the sort of lazy parenting I’d expect from your father. I don’t see him helping you prepare for your acting debut.
“An ice cream?” says Effie out loud, laughing it off as she lifts the hand-sewn wire-threaded branch ensemble over his head. “Don’t be silly. Trees don’t eat ice creams, do they? Hands up now, through the holes… No, you need to keep them up. High up in the air, that’s it. Stretching up like tall branches reaching for the sky.” When was the last time Daddy did any method acting with you, huh?
“But my arms hurt.”
“They’re not arms, Caleb, they’re branches, remember? Come on, if you’re going to be the best tree Glenlake Primary has ever seen then you need to start thinking like a tree.Think strong and majestic. Think rooted. Think…”
“I could think about my treehouse. Daddy says he’ll help me build one at his house.”
“Does he now? It sounds like I’ll be having words with Daddy next time I see him… Anyway, no, that’s not what I mean. Think foliage. Think respiration. ”
“My fingers feel funny. All fizzy and prickly.”
“You mean your leaves feel funny. Don’t worry about that, that’s just the er… the photosynthesis. Right, you stay here with the other trees and practise. Mummy will be just over there on the bench, watching. Watching to see how tall and still you can be for the next twenty minutes. How tree-like. We’ll show those teachers what real acting looks like, won’t we?”
The bench faces the other way, but that’s okay. Effie’s already thought of that. Her compact mirror offers the perfect view of her perfect little tree.
That’s it. Good boy. Keep it up – just like that. Anyone can do angels and innkeepers, but a tree? That takes proper skill.
“Mummy. There’s a dog.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, trees aren’t scared of dogs are they?”
“He’s doing a wee, Mummy. He’s weeing on my leg.”
“Trunk,” says Effie, watching proudly in the mirror. How’s that for a convincing performance? “The dog’s doing a wee on your trunk.”
No raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens today, I’m afraid. And not a single brown paper package tied up with string. Just a list of some of the lovely things that have happened since Agent Starling: Operation Baked Beanscame out last year, because… I don’t know, because it’s Friday the 13th. Because it’s raining (again). Because the new C-word is scuppering plans left, right and centre, bringing fresh concerns every day. Because it’s easy to focus on the negatives in this writing game, without stopping to celebrate the things that make it all worthwhile. And so here, in no particular order, is my list of writing smiles:
Friends who left lovely reviews on Amazon, or passed on lovely reviews in person.
Strangers who left lovely reviews on Amazon.
A friend who bought multiple copies to give out as party favours at her daughter’s birthday and videoed everyone reading it.
Twitter writing friends championing the book online.
A Twitter friend telling me her son had spotted it in their local library… which led to a fun couple of hours searching out all the libraries stocking it around the country. I was ridiculously excited to think of my little book on so many library shelves!
Hearing that a copy had been spotted on a library shelf all the way over in New Zealand.
Seeing children dressed up as Agent Owl for World Book Day.
Meeting other new authors at the SCBWI Debut Bootcamp.
Hearing that a writing friend’s son had adopted his own spin-off joke based on a recurring gag in Agent Starling.
The mum who hurried all the way to the bank and back in order to buy a copy after a library event.
My brilliant local librarian who baked her own batch of baked bean muffins for an event.
The reader who emailed my publisher to tell them how much she’d loved the book.
And there you have it – a far from comprehensive list of this writer’s favourite my-book’s-out-there-in-the-big-wide-world things, with a bonus picture of some baked bean lampshades we spotted in Oslo. And also, most importantly of all, a huge THANK YOU to everyone – friends and strangers alike – for welcoming Agent Starling into the world. You’re stars, the lot of you.
Jennifer Moore, Writer 