Up close and personal with corn

Iowa is big on corn. Have I mentioned this already?

We were lucky enough to be invited to the Dane Family farm Fall Harvest dinner, which was a bit like the front runner for Thanksgiving. Everything served up had been grown on the farm from the turkeys, to the sweet potatoes and corn, and the apples and pumpkins that were made into pies. Even the ice-cream was made on the property. About 100 people packed into their barn, sitting at long tables, decorated with carved pumpkins.

We saw wild mice (more wildlife!!!) scurrying as the tractor towed us on a hayride around the edge of the cornfields. I suppose it's a bit like tourists seeing sheep for the first time in New Zealand. It's exciting, right? Well, we were a bit like that about the corn, even though it seemed like we'd found the stunted corn variety.

By the way, I finished my poem for the CityDance Ensemble. I struggled with it but now that I have started writing poetry again, I'll probably never stop. And I'm making progress with my manuscript for teens. Originally it was going to be about a 13 year old boy, but he's aged in the making. I decided I wanted him to be a couple of years older, so the story has subtly changed as well, and will need to be longer. Occasionally I get angry when I struggle to make myself write, but I've been listening to comments by other writers and have given myself some freedom to experiment. Maxine Case said she doesn't always write her chapters in sequence. She works on whatever she wants to write at the time. Osman Conteh says he doesn't get too bothered if he doesn't feel like writing. He knows the voice will come back and he has faith. Siobhan Ni Shithigh says she knows the fully-formed poem already exists and it's just about her finding it and giving it a voice.

These words of wisdom and faith have been very reassuring to me in this part of my writing journey.

Words to dance to

Within the next few weeks, the IWP participants are heading off on another trip to Chicago, Washington D.C. and New York. Calm down, calm down. Jeepers, you're excitable little chipmunks, aren't you?

Well, the CityDance Ensemble in Washington D.C. has invited the IWP writers to write texts based on the theme of Fall and Recovery, to be interpreted and choreographed for a special performance in mid-November. Look here for a preview of past performances. For a woman who loves to dance (I'm talking about me here, you know, Tango Kat?), this is an exceptional opportunity. I have no idea what this might look like, but mixing media is exciting, hopefully not too exciting for words, or I'll be stymied in my task. I'm normally a prose writer, but this is stimulating a desire to write poetry.

What is happening to me here in Iowa?

I think those poems by Mani Rao at Prairie Lights on Sunday may have sparked off my desire to experiment with word forms.

I'll let you know the outcome.

Cane Toads and Underpants: A Pocket Guide to Writing for Boys

I gave a speech at my panel presentation on Friday. There were five of us talking about Teaching Writing, so I wrote the Dingbat's Guide to Writing a Boys' Bestseller (you know, in the same vein as the Dummies guides and Idiots guides for adults). None of the other panelists were children's writers so I thought it was a good niche to exploit. It also allowed for some humour, and little chance of me slipping into academic-speak. I rounded it off by reading out the beginning of Morris Gleitzman's Bumface, which demonstrated so many of the things I had included in my 'pocket guide.' Thank goodness everyone laughed in all the right places. It shows that New Zealand humour isn't completely unlike the rest of the world.

On the same day I read aloud from my own work at Shambaugh House - from my published work A Hairy Tale (Kiwi Bites series) and an excerpt from Sausage Sizzle (which isn't finished yet but can be read by following the link). I absolutely loved both the panel presentation and the reading. People are so supportive in the IWP and they enjoy hearing you share your work.

People like Osman from Sierra Leone (picture above) confirmed for me that my writing is funny and that I manage to capture the essence of children in my characters. That was hugely reassuring.

How's this for a big deck?

In order to be understood here, I have discovered I need to open my mouth wide and scrunch my face and say 'ass' not 'arse' (not that I have needed to say either of those words - just demonstrating the letter 'a', you understand). So I found myself saying pathway, not parthway yesterday. And ah-some, not oar-some. And apparently a New Zealander's 'i' and 'e' sound very similar, which can be problematic.

Pam, my landlady at the College Green House, suggested I might like to talk about a balcony or a porch rather than use the New Zealand term 'deck', especially when referring to someone having a big one because there may be some confusion over my pronunciation (I'll pause here to allow you to think about this carefully).

I told this story in the van on the way back from a dinner function at the Levitt Centre and all of the other IWP participants rolled around laughing. Now they keep prompting me to say 'deck'. Our driver and coordinator of all sorts of vital activites, Joe, was very quiet during this conversation. However, after everyone else had been dropped home, he said very calmly, 'To the right is the home of another IWP person who will probably host a party soon. He has a very big deck on his ute. I think you should ask him about it, Kathy.'

Ha, ha, ha. When hell freezes over.

I suspect I'm going to americanise my vowels quite quickly. But I'm sure all of you will set me right when I return.

Literature of Desire

The first IWP (International Writing Program) panel discussion called 'Literature of Desire' began at the Iowa City Public Library on Friday. This was one that I said I was prepared to be involved in but they chose five others so maybe they thought a children's writer would be less knowledgeable on the subject of sex and desire. They're probably right.

Millicent from Jamaica read out a Shakespearean sonnet:

Being your slave what should I do but tend
Upon the hours, and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend;
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world without end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,
When you have bid your servant once adieu.

Isn't it beautiful?

And this one by Tony McNeil, which is called The Catherine Letter. She read it with pauses where there are spaces and the way it appears on the page has significance, so I hope it replicates okay here.

Strange
my writing to you
Can I say a cliche

Never thought I would see the day when you would cut me
glimpsed you in
should have said at
should have said near
a bank one day; smiled; waved; and you cut me

Catherine
name from the north
Well
there's a mystery to women of frost
the young men stride to the woods and snip them dark lilacs
a wren wheels in the distance
the sun shells east of the lake

Couples kiss in the field across the wild cherries
In the dream the woman is sitting under a cotton
a man kneels on the slope
the pair meet in the mist, stuttering prayers

Have you seen lilies tilt in the wind
Do banks stretch shadows on people so that when they see the familiar they turn away


It reached in and touched my soul when she read it. I used to read and write poetry. I stopped. But I think I'm going to start again. These people are doing me good. Stretching me, opening me up, making me feel things unexpectedly. So much about a person is revealed in their writing - or it can be.

I felt closer to Hanaa from Saudi Arabia after hearing her choked up voice as she read her short story about walking in the street, in her white jeans, hair loose and blowing in the breeze. What a tortured twist to find at the end that it is not real and never will be. It's a freedom I take for granted.

Two more people in the group do readings at the Prairie Lights Bookstore this afternoon - a Tamil Indian woman called Meena and a Lithuanian playwright and scriptwriter called Marius. I believe it's broadcast on radio. Did you know that in rural parts of India, they still lynch people who have relationships outside of their own caste?

The struggles we face are different by culture, by gender, by religion, and by individual. But we also have so much in common. The more I listen, the more I like these people who write from their hearts.

You're so exciting, little brown frog

Our first week was full-on. On our first day together all of the IWP participants went on an excursion through the rural outskirts of Iowa City to the Redbird Farms Wildlife Area, which featured prairie grasslands and woodland. This was where I spotted my first wildlife specimen - a little brown frog. Since then, I have seen rabbits, chipmunks and squirrels, but no bears or deer yet. Do you think I need to get out of the city more?

Our official orientation began with a welcome party and Mexican dinner at the home of IWP director Christopher Merrill, where we introduced ourselves in front of 300 people. What a night! These people seem to think we're superstars. It's really quite bizarre. There was a congressman there giving a speech, and a representative from the Iowan Dept of Foreign Relations. I was speaking quite casually with both of them before I knew who they were.

The foreign relations man, in a very Iowan checked shirt, chatted to me for quite a while and said he was looking for a writer who is politically motivated to speak at a function. I didn't click into gear straight away, but I went back to him later and told him I'm politically-motivated about the use of a deadly poison called 1080 which is manufactured in Alabama, that 85% of the world's production is being used in pest control operations in clean green 100% pure New Zealand, and that I'm prepared to talk about it (deep breath). I get the feeling it isn't quite what he had in mind, but we'll see what comes out of it.

I must have talked about it to a few more people than that because I'm now scheduled to introduce and show the documentary Poisoning Paradise at the Cinematheque in early October. The Cinematheque features a fabulous line-up of films and documentaries from around the world. It also showcases the work of some of the scriptwriters in the writing program - their short films, features and docos.

In love with Iowa

Well, I'm here. If you saw the new Star Trek movie, you may remember an early scene where young Jim is speeding down roads flanked by wide cornfields, being chased by a cop. Patchwork fields for miles to see, big red barns, grain and corn silos and water towers - that is rural Iowa and that's what I remember from flying in from Chicago.It was dusk and the light was gentle. Sawyer was waiting to pick me up at Cedar Rapids (yes, it does sound like the setting of a soap opera) and drive me through to my home for the next three months in Iowa City.

There is a fabulous mix of fun people on the International Writing Program - 35 in total, plus the teaching staff. Alice, from Melbourne is into young adult books too (Melbourne), Osman from Sierra Leone who has given me some fabulous advice about writing for teenagers, and Millicent from Jamaica who is in love with the Flight of the Conchords. I spoke a little with Maung from Myanmar because he is the editor of a children's magazine, and the first thing Dragica of Switzerland said to me was:
"You are Kathy, ja? My son vants me to take you home vith me."
"I'm sure I'm a bit old for your son," I said.
"He's 32," she said. "And he likes older voman."

I'm not in the Iowa House Hotel where most of the other people are being housed. I'm staying in the College Green House - a period house which was built in 1890, which is only a 20-minute walk to the International Writing Program at Shambaugh House.

I'm not disappointed with anything yet. I have the most amazing view of the College Green, and the walk into town (where the good cafes are) is going to be good for me. There's a cute little yoga joint right around the corner from where I live. Can you believe that? My landlady seems happy to show me around. She took me through the Summit District Heritage Walk and the Farmer's Market on my first weekend, where I bought caramel (pronouned carrrrr-mel) pecan rolls from an Amish man ... she even brought me a piece of homemade apple spice cake this evening. How good is that? And she took me to Kalona, which is an Amish community, complete with horses and carts, and bakeries with the most amazing fruit pies and yeasty buns. Have you spotted the recurring theme in this paragraph? I'm not going to starve here.

Check out this parody video called Amish Paradise by Weird Al.