Hello again, from old Mem Fox!

I turned 58 on March 5th. I should be slowing down. I mean, being 60 is only two years off and 60 is ancient. Instead I find myself living way beyond the speed limit. Age is not wearying me. Yet. And I’m proud to reveal that tomorrow at my exercise class I will be graduating to 4 kg weights. This means on occasion, when I am lifting two weights in one hand, I’ll be lifting 8kgs. That’s over 17lbs in America (the only country in the world not to have metric). Either way, it’s astonishing. Will I live to tell the tale? Will this be my last hot news?!

Too much has happened (since the entry before last) for me to be able to catch up on the news in any detail. But at least Chloe is well again, back at school and loving it, studying and loving it, and writing reviews for the Adelaide Fringe Festival, and loving it.

Malcolm is looking heavenly: rested, tanned, and relaxed after only a few weeks of retirement. He is teaching again this year, but only a few hours per week in courses in which he hasn’t yet been replaced. It will ease him into the doing-nothing of real retirement next year. Having said “the doing-nothing of retirement,” all the retired friends we know are so happily busy it’s hard to pin them down.

The bad thing about being a writer is that retirement is not an option. You can’t retire until you’re dead. Every single day bits of business come into the house on e-mail, in the post, by courier, over the phone, by fax, by ox-cart and donkey (only joking) and by word of mouth.

There’s no time to write unless your editor is breathing so heavily across the ocean that you just have to get to work. I spend hours and hours at my desk every day, not writing, but writing. What do I mean? I’m sending conference organisers the titles of my speeches, checking articles that journalists have written and want verified, writing papers and presentations for conferences (I have sixteen in the next two months), answering letters and e-mails, filling in forms and contracts, providing information to people who are writing about me in books, newspapers, encyclopaedias and anthologies, sending thank you notes to the many people who have been kind to me, bugging politicians whose actions are bugging me, penning one-line letters to the papers (one was published yesterday), keeping in touch with old friends, and so on. Everything but writing.

I loathe writing picture books, as you know, so all the administration stuff is a relief, really. It stops me from having to face the fright of a blank page or having to create something truly magical for young children.

My editor, Allyn Johnston came for Christmas from the USA, on Dec 22nd, with her husband and son. She and I had made pact not to work for the entire time she was here. It was to be pure vacation-and-fun time. But guess what happened? Malcolm and I were walking along the beach late one sunny afternoon around the 20th of December when I had an idea. “Quick!” I said to him, “Walk faster. I’ve had an idea for a book, and I must get home to write it down before I forget it.” I worked on it in secret for two nights, one of which was Christmas Eve, until 2.a.m, and made it into a tiny little 32 page book (picture books are always 32 pages) which I gave Allyn on Christmas morning. Man, oh man, it was SO exciting! It’s called: Hello Baby. She accepted it there and then. Christmas was fabulous!

January was the same. I met Mark Latham, the new Leader of the Opposition several times in Adelaide and Sydney, once for dinner which was hilarious. Chloe came and was at her liveliest. She’s funny. She is SO funny. Malcolm stayed home: “too much celebrity for me,” but he will finally meet Mark at the launch of Where Is The Green Sheep? in Canberra in May.

At the end of January I was invited by Mark to attend the Labor Party Convention. I have always wanted to be at a political convention, of any party, in any country, just to feel the atmosphere, and observe the hatreds and in-fighting, and the wheeling and dealing. So it was a big day for me – I felt quite shy and nervous – especially when Mark Latham launched a policy based on my book Reading Magic, called Read Aloud Australia, and said, I quote: “Mem Fox gave me the best advice a person has ever given me: to read aloud to my sons. It is the greatest gift I am able to give them.” What a nice man! What a good parent.

I loved seeing famous politicians. I was agog, frankly. I was even introduced to a few of them. It was like being at the Oscars, only more interesting.

Talking of politicians, the premier of South Australia, Mike Rann, is doing great things to advance literacy in our state, one of which is to have a Premier’s Reading Challenge. School students who read at least twelve books a year will be rewarded. I have been involved in supporting this initiative and will be visiting schools to spread the word.

I was in the press, on the radio and on television so often around the time of the Labor Party convention that I was pleased to leave the country in early February, to run away from the extraordinary and unusual exposure. I had a divine time at two splendid conferences: the CCIRA convention in Denver, Colorado; and the Reading For the Love Of It conference in Toronto, Canada. There were standing ovations, huge signing lines, squealing fans (all lovely teachers!) and lots of fun and laughter. But I was so loved in both places that I found it rather overwhelming. I was glad once again to be able to run away to Muscat in Oman, in the Arab Gulf States, to speak at TAISM, the American international school. Oh, those cute kids! They come from all over the world. Their librarian, the wonderful Martha Langille, treated me very kindly indeed. It was a joyful visit.

Malcolm was with me in Muscat, as was Jenny Darling my adored literary agent, and her brother who was turning 40 and getting the trip as a present. Such fun. Unfortunately I didn’t see anything of Oman because I got a chest infection and felt very miserable. Still, if you are ill and miserable there’s no better place to be than at a gorgeous hotel, lying beside the pool, looking at palm trees and the sea, reading novels in perfect weather.

Since then there has been, and still is, the Adelaide Festival, in my town obviously, with visitors and performers from all over the world. My favourite part of the festival is always Writers’ Week, surprise, surprise. This year Isabel Allende, Margaret Attwood, and Jeanette Winterson thrilled audiences, as did many other local and international writers. By Friday last week, my birthday, I was exhausted. But is was a great day, beginning with a terrific speech by Don Watson who writes brilliantly about writing in his latest book: Death Sentence. I stood in line afterwards to get it autographed. It was nice to be in line for once and not signing, although I must admit it felt weird.

Our beloved refugee family left Adelaide last week to move to Sydney where they have more friends and a closer community. Saying goodbye was dreadful. The mother and father sobbed, as did I. The boys, who adore Malcolm, were hilarious, jumping into the car and refusing to get out and taking close up photos that will make us all look like idiots. I pray that they will be happy and will be able to stay in this country forever.

Finally, we had a lovely surprise last week when Malcolm’s best man at our wedding turned up out of the blue from England, with his wife whom we had never met. They are retired. It was GORGEOUS to see them and I am thrilled that they are in Australia long enough to come and stay with us before Easter. Friends and family are all that matter in the end.

By the time I write again in this space Possum Magic will have turned 21. The big day is March 31st and there are to be celebrations all round the country. Julie Vivas and I will be travelling to Melbourne, Sydney and Adelaide for events and media opportunities in each of those cities. If we don’t see you in those cities or in any other town or place, please know that we are hugely grateful to you all for embracing this book of ours in such a fantastic way.

Much love till next time, Mem Fox xxx