Perfect radio

Honestly, Dorothee Kocks should have married a radio. She's just spoken on Radio NZ National Nights with Bryan Crump. I was so proud, listening to her musical, intelligent, entertaining discourse, I remembered all over again what I love about The Glass Harmonica.

If you didn't hear her, please go and listen.

On we go

Good news came this week in the form of a 'quick turnaround' grant from Creative New Zealand to help with the production of Slightly Peculiar Love Stories. It's a wonderfully eclectic collection (try saying 'eclectic collection six times quickly' six times quickly) that I'm happy to delve into any time. Most stories are now edited, with a handful awaiting final checks. My daughter Sophie is quirking up a cover; page designer Christine is standing by; page proofs will be sent to authors; Hugh will make website preparations; and poet and 'media maven' Helen Heath is going to consult with Rosa Mira Books and with any of our authors who are willing, to help us get niftier (and have more fun) with our use of social media.

Meanwhile, a print-on-demand version of The Glass Harmonica is being worked out. I can't deny that it will be exciting to see Dorothee's terrific novel in hard copy, enhanced by Christine's gorgeous cover design.

Meanwhile, also, I'm working with a couple of delectable manuscripts, figuring out as I go how to pay for that work. What's exciting about the new publishing climate (here I weave silk from gristle; conjure riches from apparent financial paucity) is that we are renegotiating as need arises: there are precious few rules, but plenty of ideas, enthusiastic people, and optimism. Okay, I'm being vague, but let's say the path remains firm underfoot, at least the next two steps of it.

Thank you to Creative NZ for that financial vote of confidence, and to each of you for ongoing encouragement that brightens and brings heart to the journey.

Strange days, and a chance to share

Five days after the earthquake, even those of us not living in the quake zone (we're 200 miles south of Christchurch) find ourselves swinging to and fro, appraising our projects for relevance, wondering what else we can do to help, and generally losing focus at the drop of a hat — unless we make a real effort to be quiet and aware.

Rosa Mira Books and Dorothee have agreed that all proceeds from sales of The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale from now until the 7th of March will go to the Christchurch Mayor's fund, donating to those in need there. This is a straightforward way to give US$11.00 — by going to Rosa Mira Books and follow the buying process.

For you who are still in Christchurch I wish courage, calm hours and moments of beauty — and the grace and opportunity to leave the city for rest and recuperation when you can.

Valentine's Day, filming and afrolicking

We're busy today, those of us who have to do with Rosa Mira Books, and The Glass Harmonica. There have been exciting goings-on in the last few weeks. Two of Dorothee's friends, Melissa Bond (her stunning website) and Joe Totten, both of Utah, collaborated with my brother Hugh Todd of Sydney (some of you might recall him as a very youthful ODT cartoonist in the '80s) to produce an electrifying animated Valentine's Day card. Do check it out — and may you experience a rich variety of love today.

And here it is on Youtube if you want to share it around.

On the same page as the card, you'll see another thrilling newcomer: the video trailer for Dorothee Kocks's novel. This has likewise been a labour of love, in this case by Dorothee's cousin, film-maker Jakob Wehrmann in Berlin. You can check it out on Youtube, too — The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale — and do cast your eye over the credits to see what a delectable collaboration it has been.

Meanwhile, Dorothee's been writing up a storm concerning sex in early America. All was not as it seems.

What's up?

Wow. I just previewed the film trailer for The Glass Harmonica that Dorothee's cousin Jakob has been making in Berlin, taking in the nape and hands of a beautiful young woman, and a glass harmonica they tracked down in the Musikenstrumentenmuseum in Leipzig. It's going to raise the neck hairs for sure.

So, I'm between two projects at present, but needing to keep active in both. The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale is out in the world, being warmly received and quietly gathering readers to itself. We have to keep making its presence known by all the social and web media within our reach and budget. I hope more people will take the leap and buy the ebook, even if they don't have their e-reader yet. More sales means more time I can spend preparing the next manuscript. I believe that all the work I put in to Rosa Mira Books is worthwhile, but at this early stage, each sale gives a boost, that extra 'vote of confidence'. I've applied for funding to help with the next push — getting the Slightly Peculiar Love Stories edited, designed and marketed. This collection is going to be fun to read — quirky, intense, flighty, pensive: there will be a story for every mood.

Meanwhile, I've been reading a manuscript on the iPad's iBooks app. Because the story is well written, spell-checked, and captivating, and although it's in PDF, I might almost be reading an ebook already. Digital readers surely spell death to the slush pile, those toppling boxes of paper, wistful manuscripts that are, in the end, sent home or shredded.

I've yet to download the application Chris told me about: Docs To Go, which enables one to edit Word documents on the iPad. So many devices and applications offer to make our lives more streamlined — if only we overcome the initial resistance against yet another new task, another set of instructions, to learn by measured steps what our children tackle headlong and intuitively.

Gratitude

It's too easy to catalogue trials and woes — those that exist or those my imagination conjures for me daily in relation to Rosa Mira Books. So here's what I'm grateful for today: sun at last; the smell of dinner cooking as I work on (and the unstinting support the cook has offered me all year); the lively, gritty, life-affirming novel The Glass Harmonica; the interested, listening ear at Creative New Zealand this morning (might I be able to gain some funding/time/help?); Jason of meBooks to whom I've consigned the latest formatting puzzle; Dani who's sending out our NZ media releases tonight; Hugh who patiently added details to the website while cooking an Indian meal for hordes; friends who have been patient, encouraging, soothing and, never least, playful.

This month I'm determined to edit a story a day towards the collection of Slightly Peculiar Love Stories; that's my peculiar delight amongst many routine details — sampling again the particular flavour of each — this afternoon the slant, piquant tale of a man looking out through an office window in (it might be) Buenos Aires at a boy washing the glass six floors below. Oh, and that makes me think of another thank-you: to my Facebook friends who are there online, chatting away — a quiet background buzz in the home office, and who tonight flew to save me from a translation conundrum.

Dinner's ready and here, I've said grace.

Galloping on

It's a week now since Rosa Mira Books went online, and we've had the chance to iron out a wrinkle or two, hear some happy murmurs from early readers, and plan for the youtube trailer we're having made in Berlin, of all places. Gloves will be peeled from slender hands, and wet fingers poised over spinning glasses; the eerie tones of the glass harmonica will help us announce the novel to the reading world.

Launching the site and The Glass Harmonica: A Sensualist's Tale was excting, if a mite chaotic when I tried to add a skype conference to the mix. Still, we had time to hear from author Dorothee Kocks and assembled friends in Utah, and to sense again the international quality of our endeavours. Thank you to all who raised their glasses, mugs, or hats at that moment, wherever in the world you were. The name Rosa Mira brought a few roses through the front door, not to mention lilies and other floral delights. I was floating that first twenty-four hours on a cloud of benevolence, and thought about the many people who have been vital to this journey, starting with the terrific women of Longacre Press who published my YA fiction and memoir, and employed me as editor, during which years I learned to trust my critical capacities, and to deepen my knowledge of the craft of writing.

There's more to be said (I'll be back soon), but even more to be done — I'm going to have to figure out how to bend time to manage it all. Tips are welcome.