Everything you need to know about my new book: Andromache Between Worlds
If you follow me on social media you’ve probably seen a lot of references to something called Andromache Between Worlds and very little context about what exactly that is. Originally I was going to use this newsletter to make a different big announcement, but I’ll save that for next month and instead focus on the project that has been consuming my life for the past few weeks. Andromache is a new middle grade novel, to be published by HarperCollins at some as-yet undefined (yet hopefully soon) point in the future.
The closest comparison to any of my other work would be the Boone Shepard novels. Like them, Andromache is a quirky, swashbuckling adventure story for younger readers with some deeper, darker themes. It centres on Andromache Peters, the daughter of two world famous adventurers in whose shadow she has grown up. Lonely and isolated by her own unwanted (and in her mind, unearned) fame, the last thing Andromache wants is to be associated with her parents, especially as her father died when she was just a baby and her mother has become a distant, work obsessed shadow of her former self.
But everything changes when Andromache discovers that her father is not dead, but rather stranded in a parallel universe – forcing her and two other misfits on a death defying adventure through strange and dangerous other worlds to try and find him.
Writing this book has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. After a succession of dark thrillers (which obviously I adore writing), to shift gears this drastically has been both refreshing and re-energising. I haven’t worked in this kind of sphere since Boone – even The True Colour of a Little White Lie, my last book for younger readers, was fairly grounded and realistic. But this is heightened, goofy and full of thrills. There are pirates and dinosaurs, cowboys and sea monsters, Pharaohs and mad scientists and twists and heartbreak.
I have no idea if it works, but I’ve loved every second of writing it. I hope you like it too, whenever you get to read it.
Other Projects
I’ve found myself in a bit of an in-between spot work wise, where I’m basically just waiting on a lot of notes for a lot of projects, so there’s nothing new to say here. It’s kind of been ideal though, as it’s given me the space to focus almost entirely on Andromache, which given how I’ve had to spend most of the year alternating between different stuff on a daily basis, has been an unexpected luxury.
One thing I will mention in vague terms is the short film that I wrote earlier this year, a black comedy set in the Maggieverse (no Maggie, but another familiar face), which is gearing up to shoot in January. I don’t want to say too much about it yet, but its working title is The Retirement Plan and I can confirm it involves a children’s birthday party, murder, blackmail and indigestion.
Crazy Fun Park - Trailer released!
Last year I did a little work in the writer’s room for Crazy Fun Park, an upcoming YA comedy/horror series created by Nick Verso, and next month the whole first season drops on ABC iView. It’s a fantastic show; dark, funny, scary and sad, unlike anything Aussie kid’s TV has done before.
New Blog Post
Despite enjoying the hell out of writing Andromache, there have been some challenges (as there always are), and those challenges led me to write a little piece reflecting on the ‘plotter/panster’ binary when it comes to writers, and how that pertains to my own work. Read it here!
I have a Wikipedia page!
I don’t know if this counts as news or not, but the other day I stumbled on a Wikipedia page about, well, me. No, I didn’t make it myself (I honestly would not know how) but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t flattered and a bit chuffed that somebody thought I was worth the effort.
Bruce
This is Bruce.
Recommendations
‘Tis the season and all that, so I figured this month I’d recommend some Christmas viewing. For me the only Christmas viewing, a yearly tradition without which the holidays are incomplete.
I’m talking, of course, about A Moody Christmas.
Here’s the thing; A Moody Christmas isn’t just my all-time favourite thing to watch at Christmas, it also makes a strong case for being my all time favourite Australian TV show. Initially strongly recommended by my Mum, I brushed it off until one Christmas about a decade back Mum forced the whole family to watch it. We knocked the whole thing over that night.
Six half-hour episodes are easy enough to do in an evening. But it wouldn’t be quite so easy, nor something I had watched through many, many times, if it wasn’t so damn good.
The premise is brilliant in its originality and simplicity. Six episodes, six years, six Christmases, one family. Every episode starts with youngest son Dan Moody coming home to Sydney from London, bracing himself for the deluge of parental criticism, hairbrained schemes from his brother, drunk uncles and worst of all, the douchebag cousin dating the love of his life.
It's very, very funny and very, very relatable. It’s also quietly brilliant in how it uses its structure to both draw us in and give the characters some fairly sweeping arcs. It might take less than three hours to watch the lot, but the show covers six years and absolutely sells it. Between episodes characters get married, break up, have kids and overhaul their lives. Part of the thrill of each new instalment is trying to work out where everyone is at this year. It also means the show can drop a pretty wrenching cliff-hanger and then, because a full year has passed for the characters, be in absolutely no rush to tell us how it was resolved. It makes for TV that is far more gripping than you might initially assume.
It also manages a near perfect balance between making you laugh and making you care. I still remember hitting the end of episode three for the first time and realising with painful clarity just how invested I was in these people and how desperate I was for things to not go exactly the way I knew they were going to go. And the little breakthrough moments in the following episodes, where emotionally closed off Dan slowly stops holding his family at arm’s length, are as lovely as they are irreverent.
I adore this show. It’s timeless. It’s funny. It’s moving. And it also is the rare example of something that absolutely captures Christmas as I knew it growing up. If you’re looking for an alternative to Elf or The Polar Express or Love Actually or whatever, then take a chance on this. It’s better than all of the above, won’t leave you feeling like you’ve mainlined sugar, and is an example of a brilliant show that only could have come out of Australia. Quite literally, given the disastrous American remake.
Country Hospitality: Part Two of Three
Picking up from last month, below is the second instalment of Country Hospitality. We last left off with Maggie hiding out in a small town after the events of The Inheritance only to realise that her enemies might have found her.
Have they? Read on to find out…
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Maybe it wasn’t the Scorpions. The likelihood that they’d tracked her here of all places was low. But just because something wasn’t likely didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. She might have dealt the Melbourne chapter a devastating blow, but that didn’t mean others couldn’t be out looking for her even now. Their entire reputation in the criminal underworld depended on them finding and dealing with her. But to search in some middle-of-nowhere town? They had to know those chances were slim to non-existent. Or would be if they hadn’t found exactly the right place.
She finished her burger despite the churning in her stomach. She couldn’t hurry straight out the door, not if the bikers were still hanging around town. Under the table she reached into the pocket of her cargo pants; three pebbles were right where she’d left them. She removed one and checked the metal ring halfway down her thigh, the rubber band hanging from it. All still in place. She stood, watched the window another moment, and left.
The street was quiet. There were no signs of bikies. Which of course, didn’t mean they weren’t there. She walked slowly around the corner and back towards the house. Her car sat ahead in the dark; she swore under her breath. She should have moved it. But she had changed the license plate before leaving Melbourne and station wagons weren’t exactly distinctive. Still. She wished she had a gun. She kept a small knife concealed in a little holder on her belt, but its value was limited in the face of bullets. She removed it anyway.
She quietly opened the door to the house, pausing in the hallway and listening. Dark and silent. She pulled it closed, the handle turned to avoid the telltale click. She didn’t move. No creaking floorboards or heavy breathing. Not that there would be. She moved for the stairs. Feet soft on each one, taking her time. The landing approached. She’d shove the door to her room open then jump back and out of the way. She’d know fast if anyone was there. She reached the landing, stopped and then, loud in her ear, a click.
‘Nice little hideaway, eh sweetheart?’
Cold metal against her temple. She didn’t look. She could smell his breath from here.
‘Let’s take a little walk.’ He shifted the gun behind her head, forcing her towards her room. Maggie said nothing. She opened the door and stepped inside. He flicked the lights on and closed it. She turned.
Middle aged, bearded and pockmarked, wearing the black leather cut of the Scorpions. She felt no shock. She hadn’t wanted to believe it was them, but she’d long since learned that her gut rarely lied.
‘What did you do to Fran?’ she asked.
‘The owner?’ The bikie chuckled, the gun remaining steady. ‘I paid for a room. Chewed my ear off about how she’d love to ride a motorbike at some point but bunions are a problem. Nice place, eh?’
‘So she’s alright?’
‘Don’t need to draw any extra attention, do I?’ His grin was smug. His unblinking eyes fervent. This prick was due a big promotion.
Maggie rested her hand on her thigh. ‘Gonna take me back on your bike?’
He nodded over his shoulder. ‘Got a van outside town. Take you for a little ride back to Melbourne. Words will be had, I reckon. Wouldn’t wanna be in your position, sweetie.’
‘Depends what position you think I’m in.’
He laughed. ‘Talking tough too! You’d be a bit of fun if you weren’t a fucking psycho. Nah I’m looking forward to getting–’
Maggie pulled back the rubber band and shot a pebble into his eye.
His head snapped back. The gun hit the ground. Maggie lunged forward, snatched it up, and hit him in the head with the butt – three times. He hit the floor before he could make a sound. She aimed it at him. He didn’t move. His eyes were flickering, one already red and swollen. He opened his mouth, groaned, tried to sit up. Maggie knelt fast and shoved the gun barrel into his open mouth. He gagged. She shoved harder.
‘Try anything, I shoot,’ she said.
He did not try anything.
With her gun-free hand she grabbed her backpack and dragged it over. The bikie tried to say something so Maggie pushed the gun a little deeper, which put an end to that. Near the bottom she found some zip-ties, right where she’d left them.
‘I take it you know about what happened at The Pit?’ Maggie asked.
A very slight nod. His eyes were watering.
‘Then you know I don’t much care how many of you bastards I kill,’ Maggie said. ‘But seeing as I don’t want to make a mess of Fran’s B&B and I don’t want any police attention, we’re going to do things a little different. Wrists together, on your chest.’
He did as he was told.
To Be Continued