Author Archives: Meg McKinlay

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About Meg McKinlay

Children's Writer & Poet

Cottonmouth XI

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Cottonmouth XI happens this Thursday. There’ll be musical acts, open mic and a swathe of invited readers. I’ll be on around 9.15, reading a few poems from Cleanskin. If you’re in the area, come along. If you’re not, catch a bus or train until you are in the area, then come along. It’s relatively simple, really.

This one isn’t for kids, though (if the image on the poster doesn’t clue you in, the venue probably should). This is part of my other life, the one in which I sometimes stay up well past my bedtime.

Going for Broke Is Done

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I’ve just sent back what I think are the final revisions on my next junior novel. Going for Broke (one world record, 52 tiny bones) will be out with Walker Books Australia in May next year.

In a curious twist, I have actually done an illustration for the text (although once my editor sees the extent of my artistic skill, she may well place a panicked last-minute call to an actual illustrator).

There Is Only So Much …

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… I can do for you, oh seekers of websites. I thought ahead. I know how difficult it is to spell “McKinlay”. I added variations thereof into my secret, hidden keyword thingies, thereby enabling Google to lead you here even if you search for “McKinley”, “MacKinley”, or “MacKinlay”. When Annabel, Again came out, I showed similar foresight. You will find this site if you search for Annabelle, Anabel or even Anabelle.

But there are limits. I’m sorry, seekers of websites. I’m glad you’re looking for my site, but I have to draw a line. If you search for Annibell, Annuhbel or Anabull, then I’m afraid you are on your own. Take heart, though – I have learned my lesson. This is why I have thoughtfully entitled my next novel The Big Dig. Enjoy!

Fun While It Lasted

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Twelve days after the shortlist announcement, the winners are in! The prize for the Children’s Books category in the Premiers Book Awards went to Liz Lofthouse/Robert Ingpen for Ziba Came on a Boat, while Ken Spillman’s Love is a UFO took the honours in the Young Adult category.

The awards were made at a ‘light breakfast event’ at the State Library this morning. It was, shall we say, extremely convenient. The Southern Suburbs railway line is swift and impressive; at such an early hour, even parking becomes possible. I enjoyed my croissant, and thank Wendy Binks for helping me souvenir my “Shortlisted Author” name tag; I plan on wearing it at every opportunity.

WAYRBA

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Last night saw the presentation of the West Australian Young Readers Book Awards at the Playhouse in Subiaco. Gongs for the Older Readers category went to Melina Marchetta for On the Jellicoe Road (read the first line and you’ll be hooked. I love this one – strange and unexpected and profoundly moving, not to mention beautifully written) and Stephenie Meyer for Twilight, while Andy Griffiths’ Just Shocking and Andrew Lansdown’s Red Dragon took the honours for the Younger Readers.

It was a fun night, with some excellent dramatic presentations by local students and a lively buzz about books and reading. It is great to see young people with so much talent, enthusiasm and self-confidence, not to mention a capacity for the random generation of explosive sound effects and hard-hitting political questions.

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The Way Opens

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I found out this morning that Annabel, Again has been shortlisted for the ‘children’s books’ category of the WA Premiers Book Awards.

Which is excellent news, of course, but has nothing to do with the title of this post. ‘The Way Opens’ is the title of a poetry book I had as a child, one of my earliest introductions to rhythm and cadence and image and all the things that make language sing. The phrase has stayed with me, in much the same way particular lines of poetry tend to. When I’ve been struggling with something and finally feel myself emerge into clear water, this is the line I hear. And this morning, it happened on the novel I’m writing. All of a sudden I can see the way forward, maybe not right to the end, not yet, but far enough ahead that I can keep the wind in my sails for a bit longer, hopefully long enough to get to the next point of departure.

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Poets in Hi Spirits

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Perth poet Andrew Burke is featuring a poem a day on his blog HiSpirits. Local WA poets have been asked to provide one poem with accompanying commentary on its origins or evolution. It’s something I always find interesting, although a listener at a poetry reading once gently admonished me that if the ‘explanation’ was longer than the poem, it was perhaps time for a re-think. You’ll find me there on Tuesday 23rd September with my poem ‘Blowhole‘.

If you have a moment or two to spare for some fine local poetry, do check out HiSpirits.

Risky Business

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Okay, yes, I admit it. During Book Week, I may have said a few things. I may have admitted to skydiving and bungy jumping and jumping my bike off poorly constructed ramps in an attempt to keep up with my brothers. I may have said that the first draft of Going for Broke contained a scene in which a boy sits in a shopping trolley with a lawnmower engine on his lap, while one friend pulls the starter cord and the other pushes the trolley off a cliff. I may have said that every kid needs a little risk in their life, a little danger, even; that stepping out into the world without a helmet and kneepads is not a bad idea every now and then.

I will stand by all that.

But, seriously, to the unknown Googler who arrived at my website via the search terms “bungy jump” and “shopping trolley”, I can only say: Please don’t. This will not end well.

Back from Book Week

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The length of time between this post and the last represents how long it took me to recover from Book Week. Two weeks? Not too bad, I think, given that I had a solid ten days of work, a husband overseas, a sick dog, a daughter turning eleven, and two copyediting deadlines smack bang in the middle.

It was an energising, exhausting and above all, fun week (or two, in the case of some libraries). We talked about images and broken bones and the dangers of too much cotton wool around kids. And ducks. We talked about the way a duck seems to be insinuating itself into everything I write at the moment. After some gnashing of teeth, I have decided not to fight it. When the duck calls your name, it’s a good idea to follow it. In the words of the incomparable Michael Leunig, “I think a nation is in trouble that cannot accept a duck.” Watch this space for some duck-related books hopefully coming your way in the next year or so.

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