Global Express plays and poetry performed

Last week was an exceptional week. Everything we have done here on the IWP has been fun but last week pushed us over the edge. Not only did we get to see our plays and poetry professionally performed, but some of us were allowed to perform on stage as well. This is as good as it gets!

Seven of the IWP writers contributed plays and poetry to the Iowa Playwrights Workshop alumna Maggie Conroy, who worked with Joe Luis Cedillo to adapt, direct and present an eclectic evening of theatre called Global Express. The evening involved Iowa undergraduates, grad students,faculty and IWP participants to bring pieces to stage.

Items performed were: Poem by Rumi sung by Salomat Vafo (Uzbekistan); Tenacity by Vicente Garcia Groyon (Philippines); Chair Does Not Know by Han Bo (China); Metallic Wing by Efrat Mishori (Israel); The Neighbor by Marius Ivaskevicius (Lithuania); Little Green Riding Hood by Kathy White (New Zealand); Longing and Unfinished Ode Upon the Clitoris by Violet Grigoryan (Armenia)

Actors: Joe Luis Cedillo; Fabian Rodriguez; R. Paul Gray IV; Julie Daniels; Brittainy Barattia; Becca Robinson; Eric Forsythe; Maddie Cole; Dawn Olsen.

Stage Manager Nicole Sedivec.

Thanks to Joe Luis Cedillo and Vicente Garcia Groyon for the photos.

Fabulous people

This is a selection of photos taken of people on the IWP.

Thanks again to Alice, Vicente, Azeem and others for pics.

Images of America

People on the International Writing Program have been taking a lot of photos. Most of them have been taken in Iowa, but others were taken during the Mountain West trip. Some of my favourite landscapes are featured here.

Thanks to Alice, Vicente, and Azeem (and others) for photos.

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.

Yr Ymylon Music Video on YouTube

A music video of the song called Yr Ymylon by IWP singer-songwriter and novelist Fflur Dafydd, directed by Azeem Sajjad, is now ready for you to see. It's from her new album Byd Bach. International Writing Program participants feature in the background, and also as director, editor and camera operator.

Have a look, make a comment, and give it a rating.

See Yr Ymylon on YouTube here.

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.

Kaikoura to consider ban on 1080

For those of you who watched the documentary Poisoning Paradise about the use of 1080 poison in New Zealand pest control at the Cinematheque two weeks ago, and wondered what action is being taken, you'll be pleased to know that the documentary, roadshow and blog are making a difference.

Screenings of the documentary in a touring roadshow have led to two councils banning the use of 1080 in aerial drops since the beginning of the year, and two more are considering a ban since councillors have seen the documentary. Taupo District Council has set up a steering committee to try and encourage other councils to take similar action.

See the statement by the Kaikoura mayor in the South Island of New Zealand and news from the Dunedin City Council, via the Otago Daily Times, both of which have been released within the last week.

It's all good news. Thanks for the encouragement.

Pumpkins and Puppets

This is a week of movies and celebrations. Alice and I took a ride on the bus to Coral Ridge Mall to go to see the roller derby movie Whip It, featuring Ellen Page of Juno and Drew Barrymore.

We also went to check out Halloween vampire teeth and guillotines for our Halloween costumes. There's at least one party to go to next week, possibly two. I love this attitude towards celebration in the United States. Everyone has Halloween festive decorations making a statement in their gardens, and there are Fall colours in tubs of botanical grandeur on their porches and in their hallways, in corn doll sculptures and painted Victorian chairs. As a children's librarian who loves dress-ups and performing, this is something special. It must have sparked something else in me, because when I found myself burrowing in The Haunted Bookshop, I discovered lifelike folktale puppets of wolves, jackrabbits and deer, not to mention other species that I'm sure I'm destined to revisit over the next few weeks. I did ask if they had an opossum. They didn't, but they might be able to order one. I wonder if they'd confiscate it on my re-entry to New Zealand ....

Poisoning at the Cinematheque

Poisoning Paradise was screened at the Cinematheque last Wednesday - a documentary about the use of 1080 poison to control mammal pests such as possums in New Zealand's Clean Green 100% Pure landscapes. The documentary showed that as well as killing pests, it also kills a large proportion of some species of native birds, invertebrates and other animals, as well as posing health risks for people and risking contamination of meat products destined for export.

Milos (Croatia) said he was stunned by a government that is so shortsighted and suffering from 'induced hysteria' over the need for such extreme pest control measures. Others wondered out loud whether an entertaining style like Michael Moore's would be a better way of reaching a wide audience. And one student asked whether we could do anything to prevent the Alabama factory from exporting 85% of the poison to New Zealand.

The conversation was stimulating and it continued in front of a class of students on Friday morning. I guess it's refreshing because I've lived in New Zealand for so long and have heard the propaganda from the Department of Conservation for so long, that I haven't stepped back and seen what the policies look like from the outside.

The lecturer Natasa took the doco home for another look, fascinated by what she felt was indisputably persuasive content but in a form that felt like 'an angry shout' - a bit like the haka that features at the end. Later she said that it seems to her that the Department of Conservation has taken on the role of predator and feels the need to take complete control over the animal it has turned into some sort of evil demon. She printed out DoC's arguments for doing aerial 1080 poison drops, and was surprised to find that many of their arguments are circular in nature.

Their statements say things like the ERMA (Environmental Risk Management Authority) review said '1080 poison is safe to use, so we're going to use it' (even though the ERMA process has been seriously questioned, and ERMA receives funding from DoC). Spokespeople from DoC also say that if we don't use 1080, we will lose our endangered birds, including the 'kiwi', even though the kiwi is less endangered than others. This argument pushes all New Zealanders' fear buttons, because the kiwi is our identity, our icon, and so much of our history connects with it.

This hysteria seems misplaced. Research shows that our endangered birds are more likely to be killed by 1080 the way it is currently being applied, than they are by pests like possums.

For those who want to read more about the background to this documentary, look at the Poisoning Paradise information on The Graf Boys' blog and The Graf Boys' website.

Iowa Romancing

Mani Rao just told us that back in 2005, she wrote a poem that features a swing that sits on the porch of Shambaugh House, home of the IWP writers. This poem features in the latest issue of Literary Review.

Iowa Romancing
Stretched on the swing at Shambaugh, hands squirreled shirts.
Across Clinton Street streaked moon-spanked dorm geese.
Hoarse hostel boys yelled back – from trees? – “Encore! We love you!”
Broken-winged from marriages that had gone on too long, two
Vegan amputees drove solemnly to Macbride Raptor Park.
“Hey who’s stuffed?,” said Bald Eagle Lofty, and shat specially.

Four in the audience at Marshalltown Public Library.
The librarian, the lady who laid out cookies, and a brave couple
Out on their first date. I did the love poems; they bought a book.

Mountain West Slideshow

Thanks for the photos Vicente and Joe.

Adventure in the Canyon

I'm in the Grand Canyon (well not physically in it at the moment). However when I said I knackered myself in the Zion National Park, I nearly killed myself today and I'm not sure I'll be mobile tomorrow. This morning, the seven of us who are on our Mountain West trip decided we were going to do a really difficult trail from the South Rim of the Canyon (called the South Kaibab). We had a few hiccups in the morning and didn't get going until 10.30. The ranger told us we would be nuts to try and get from the rim to the Colorado River and back in one day.

"Please don't do it," he said. "You would have had to start at 7am and most people can't manage it in a day no matter how early they start. We have to send out search and rescue parties for those who are silly enough to try. Please ... don't."

But it was tempting.

You know how when someone tells you not to do something, suddenly that's all you want to do, just to prove them wrong. And after all we'd done so well on the Angel's Landing hike in Zion National Park.

"I'd really like to go to the river," Marius said to me outside. "I'm sure we could do it."
I put on the voice of commonsense. "There's not enough time. You heard the ranger. They don't even list the river as an option on their billboards." I pointed to the displays. Silence. I could tell he wasn't convinced.

As a group, we decided to hike as far as Skeleton Point and then turn back. But we had a short break at Cedar Mesa, and as Marius chomped on his sandwich, he casually said to our leader Joe. 'I'd like to go further than Skeleton Point. I'd like to try for the river."

Poor Joe. He threw his hands in the air. "I knew it. I just knew there'd be someone." After all, it's his head on the chopping board if anything happens to one of us. "We have a rule," he said. "There has to be two of you." If he thought this was going to be a barrier, he was mistaken.

"Kate will come," said Marius. I think Lithuanians, Uzbeks and Russians all struggle to say the 'th' in the name Kathy because I am Kate and Katya to them all. I started shaking my head, even though I wanted to go to the river. All of the guide books said it takes twice as long to walk out especially in the mid-day heat. I was doing the math in my head - and math isn't my strong point.

"Come on Kate, we're fit enough to make it to the river. Remember Angel's Landing?" Yes, flattery often works on me, but to my relief, Ge Fei put his hand up. "I will go," he said.

The pressure was off.
No expectations.
I could do what I liked.

When we got to Skeleton Point, it didn't feel far enough so I decided to stretch my limits a bit further. "What's another mile or so," I thought. How quickly, we New Zealanders forget kilometres. But bloody hell, we got another mile in, as far as the first view over the river. It looked a long way away, and a long way down. Ge Fei laughed. He was turning back.

And Marius turned to look at me.

Now all the persuasion in the world didn't change the fact that it looked like a steep descent to that suspension bridge. I was starting to get twitchy about it. I knew I would be slow on the climb out, but I pushed on, just that little bit further, as far as the lookout past Tip Off Point. And that was where I left him, feeling a bit uncomfortable about it. But I understood why he didn't want to stop. And at least he could refill his water when he got to Phantom Ranch on the other side of the river.

I ran out of water on the way back, and have never felt exhaustion like it in that heat. But I saw a condor up close. What a bonus! I didn't have a watch and was paranoid about getting out before nightfall and the last shuttle bus. But I was still in better shape than some. I passed guys with serious cramps in their legs.

"Hey man, we'll be okay. It's only another mile to go."

I hadn't the heart to tell them it was more than double.

As for Marius, the descent to the river was further and steeper than he thought. He made it out two hours after me, when it was dark and the wild animals had started to emerge.

"At the worst point ... I was so tired I thought I was going to die," he said when we met him at dinner, and could reminisce over blistered lips and windburnt face stories. Then he grinned. "I'm so glad I did it."

And what did Joe say when he saw us? "You two are SO much in trouble."

Thanks for the photo, Joe!!!

Wildife seen so far: 1 coyote, a few squirrels, 2 condors, deer on the way to the start of the trip and some skinks.

Mexican girls on Angel's Landing

I'm on my Mountain West adventure with six of the people from the International Writing Program. You can picture excitement here ... and also weariness.

I'm actually feeling a bit knackered. I know that's a slightly rude word to use, but it's the only one that accurately describes my physical state. I completed the most strenuous of hikes in the Zion National Park yesterday - Angel's Landing. Try googling it and see what the place looks like. Marius, Vicente, Hagar and I climbed all the way to the top, even though the last half-mile involved rock-climbing and chains. Sounds exciting, huh? We finally emerged on the top platform where the view was phenomenal. Coming back down was even worse for those who were tall or who had dodgy knees. I have neither of those impediments, so I have no excuse for slowness.

After that we drove to Las Vegas for the night. Yes, we're nuts. Two hours there, two hours back. But it WAS fascinating. We walked the Boulevard with all its flashing lights, peep shows and men flicking you cards on every street corner. I wouldn't have known what this meant if Joe hadn't warned us. Their t-shirts say Girls direct to you in less than 20 minutes. Sex is everywhere in LV. They'll sell you their daughter, their sister, their mother, on a street corner. I got so used to seeing signs advertising sex, that when I saw a flashing sign outside a restaurant, I thought it said 'Mexican Girls' when actually it was a 'Mexican Grill.'

But the trashy flashiness didn't put me off. We had our photos taken in front of the fountain spectacular at the Bellagio. Remember the scene from Oceans 11 or was it Oceans 13?

Scenes from Fflur's music video

Fflur Dafydd, the singer-songwriter-novelist who took part in the IWP 2009, has now returned to Carmarthen, Wales. However before she left, she shared the news that she is producing a new compact disc of  music and we had the opportunity of helping her make a music video for one of her new tracks. As soon as the video is ready, I'll provide a link, but in the meantime you can just look at the photos we took on the day or you can have a listen to her voice here.

Have a look at Fflur's website and MySpace site if you want to know more about her books and music. Thanks Alice for the photos! And Azeem for directing the video!

Addicted to Java

I'm in the Java House, drinking a filter coffee called Giant of the Earth. Giant what, I'm not sure. It IS very earthy, but not in a good way. Giant bone, maybe, but I'm drinking it anyway.

It's a bit quiet in here. I came in mid-afternoon on Sunday and the place was jam-packed with people studying and playing games like chess and scrabble. I struggled to find a seat. Someone in Auckland needs to replicate this cafe environment - sort of laid-back Bohemian student, coffee-swilling, flavour. Mind you, last week, I was sitting behind a couple who were talking in loud voices about very personal things, and it made me wish I had a recorder. Truth is weirder than fiction sometimes, and I'd never be able to dream up the sort of things they were discussing, with his South American accent giving it a slightly exotic twist. In the end I swapped tables because I couldn't concentrate on my own story.

Anyway, I made an error of judgement this morning. It was cooler last night. I almost needed a blanket. So I wore my Kathmandu top this morning, thinking it was going to be the beginning of Fall weather ... and I'm bloody boiling sitting here. I can't peel it off because I stupidly didn't wear a singlet underneath.

I forgot to tell you that I was reading the brochure about the Effigy Mounds that are in the shape of animals, and it talked about white-tailed deer and elk being staple foods of the indians in the northeastern part of Iowa. There are no photos of them in the brochure though so I don't know if it's the same as what Hanaa and Maxine photographed near Lake Macbride.

I can't wait to see one so I can find out.

Deer in the cemetery

On Sunday, I went to inspirational poetry readings at the Prairie Lights bookstore by two of our group - Milos (Croatian) and Jan-Willem (Dutch). Afterwards we were taken out to Amy and Lindsay’s house near Lake Macbride, and treated to a barbecue, apple pie and wine, while sitting watching the sunset. Two women took off for a walk and when they returned they said they had seen deer (even had photos) so I was off in a flash to look for them. I only had 15 minutes before it was dark, which wasn’t enough time, so my wildlife-spotting was postponed.

Hugh, one of the IWP staff said there will be lots of opportunities to see deer because there are so many of them. He reckons they even wander through the cemetery near his house, and hunters are paid to shoot them with silencers so they don't disturb the dead (only joking about the last bit). They really do shoot with silencers, but people care more about the sensibilities of the living than the dead.

Chris Merrill, the director of the program told me he had sent my Cane Toads and Underpants pocket guide on writing for boys to a number of people, including some kids that he knows, and they have written a book already based on my suggestions. Anyway, he's going to forward me the email if he can find it. Please comment here if you have read it and it helps you. I’d really like to know.

Thanks Azeem, for letting me use your photo.

Effigy Mounds in north-east Iowa

Gees, the trip in the van was squashed and hot. There were four of us squeezed in the back seat where it felt like there was no air, and the sun was streaming in the window. We girls had to strip off to our skimpy singlets, which was probably offensive to some, but when you're that hot and feeling nauseous, you really don't care who you offend.

It was about six hours total travelling time to and from the northeast corner of Iowa near the Wisconsin border, and looking out over the Mississippi River. We had a picnic lunch (this was a highlight - I adore surprise boxed lunches) and walked to see the Effigy Mounds, which are Native American Indian burial sites and ceremonial grounds (made up to 2,500 years ago). Many of them are in the shape of animals from their tribal stories, like bears and birds. There are 206 of these prehistoric mounds in the National Park. We only had time to see a handful of them in a few hours. You would think that looking at mounds of dirt wouldn’t be that exciting, but knowing what they really are, and feeling momentarily part of that history – that’s priceless.

The only disappointment was that we went specifically this weekend because we had been told the autumn colours were spectacular right now - but whoever said this was misinformed. The trees are all still green, so we missed seeing the yellows, oranges and browns of autumn.

This treat is yet to come!

Thanks to Alice for the photo (doesn't the ranger look like a wax model?)

Food Inc

Yesterday I did some productive writing. Picture fireworks and champagne corks popping here.
I came to The Java House and spent two good focused hours here (which isn't bad considering they have a time limit of one hour). Anyway, I got up early and made it here again today by 8.30. Almost all of the tables are taken now, with students tapping away on their laptops. I might have to move soon though, because I have a table near a man who not only sniffs, but who also reads aloud what he's typing. And when he's thinking but not typing, he taps his fingers on the table. There is an invisible expletive here.

This place is really cool AND their coffee isn't bad. It's the closest I've come to coffee like we have in NZ, but the weird thing is that I think my taste is changing. I'm getting used to having coffee without a lot of milk now so having a latte feels a bit rich. This is frightening. Not only will I come home with an American accent but also a hankering for filter coffee.

I've just got home. What a movie!!!!! Man, you have to get that movie out on DVD to watch. It's called Food Inc and I think it's an important documentary for everyone to see. I was fascinated by the degree to which large corporations control the agricultural industry in the United States - the frightening way in which animals and workers are treated in the biggest intensive farming system in the world, and companies patenting and controlling seed and suing people who gather it - it's all scary. God it's changed the way I think about food. Alice and I have even signed up to get involved in working on the roof garden - organic veggie growing here at the university.

Banned Books

I'm back at The Java House. I was standing in line waiting to order a Java House organic blend brew (yes, filter coffee) and someone comes up behind me and gives me the sort of squeeze that could crush ribs. It's Dragica, the Swiss Croatian who thinks I'm going home with her to marry her son. She's here writing, like me. It's a good place to write.

It's only 10.30, and already I've had two people chat to me about the International Writing Program (because of my bag) and one woman tell me she likes my skirt. I like this overt friendliness. It makes a person bubble first thing in the morning. Apart from that, I've been making faces with a little girl at the table next to me. Yes, I'm supposed to be writing!!!!!!!

But there's so much to look at. Like, the fascinating artworks on the wall, and the banned books brewed coffee line-up. You wait for your coffee to filter under a banned book number. It's like a mild form of political protest. Let's pour coffee on the powers that be that try to control what we read. Mine was number 7 today - Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (which I have read). Number 8 is Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, which I just returned to the library.

In America, the religious order is very strong and controlling and has caused many books to be banned in libraries and schools - books which question and provoke thought like 1984 by George Orwell and The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton which is about poverty and gangs, and how good kids get caught up in it because of where they are born and what becomes their community. Thank goodness, book-banning doesn't happen so much in New Zealand. Although I do remember Lockwood Smith trying to get The Color Purple by Alice Walker banned as a studied text at secondary school level. Did he succeed? I can't remember.

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.

Deer Tick and Corndawg

Now this was a treat! I love this music. Even more amazing was that the IWP people were given free tickets to hear this music live at The Mill on the corner of Burlington anc Clinton on Friday 11 September. I'm going to have to buy some CDs, bring it home and torture you with it. Have a listen and a read below.

Deer Tick on myspace
Jonny Corndawg on myspace
Shame Train on myspace

Deer Tick with Jonny Corndawg, Shame Train:

When Deer Tick first played the Mill back in 2006 it was just young John McCauley on his lonesome, toting his acoustic guitar around the club, leaping from table to table serenading us with his heartfelt folk rock -- songs that pulled from the depths of a sharp and poetic heart. In between tunes, McCauley would tell jokes while pulling long drags from his tall glass of Makers. Now, three years later Deer Tick is a full-fledged band, a rock n' roll machine that spits out the spirit Hank Williams, the middle finger of Johnny Cash, and the charm of Mr. McCauley himself, a rare and remarkable songwriter who shines with a voice of his own. He ain't Dylan, he ain't Neil Young, he's his goddammed self. With rave reviews from the likes of Rolling Stone, SPIN Magazine, and even NBC's Brian Williams, Deer Tick is one of the best acts around. With Jonny Corndawg in tow, this is bound to be the country-rock shakedown of the year. So dust off your Makers. 9PM

It was everything that was promised.

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.

Crab rangoon, square dancing and Slaughterhouse-Five

My Aussie friend Alice came to the market with me on the way home tonight and we ate crab rangoon and fresh raspberries in the grass picnic area, while listening to the band and watching people dance something that looks like a cross between slow ceroc and a square dance. Alice tells me there was a square dance on the uni campus at the weekend and she'll keep an eye out for another one - I love square dances. I went to one with my schoolfriend Dinah in Taupo when I was about 14. They had hay bales for seats, a fiddler and a caller - "Step to the right and do-si-do." It was a hell of a lot of fun, so Alice and I are going to go to the next one here. They're not exactly common in Auckland or Melbourne.

I'm reading a book by Kurt Vonnegut called Slaughterhouse-Five because Pam, my landlady, took me on the Summit District Heritage Walk, and showed me where Kurt Vonnegut lived here in Iowa City while on the Writer's Program. There are some great quotes so far in this book:

"And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep."

"It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds."

I'm sure even the birds are quiet.

On the back of the book it says it is one of the world's great anti-war books. Centering on the infamous firebombing of Dresden, Billy Pilgrim's odyssey through time reflects the mythic journey of our own fractured lives as we search for meaning in what we are afraid to know.

I find myself saying 'And so it goes' after talking about anything sad and significant. It's one of the repeated phrases that lingers with me after finishing the book.

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.

If you need a laugh

It normally takes me a couple of weeks to knock off a book but if it's funny and the characters are great, I'll manage it in a couple of hours. Stop in the name of pants! is the latest in the Confessions of Georgia Nicholson series by Louise Rennison, and once again I fell in love with Georgia's diaries about the activities of her psychotic cat Angus, sister Libby, pseudo-love interests Robbie the sex-god, Dave the Laugh and Italian hunk Masimo.

The dialogue is fabuloso. Georgia would probably say it is a mixture of maturiosity and craposity. I don't think I've grown up because I find these books hilarious. The only disappointment was getting to the end and thinking I have to wait for eons for the next installment. The good news is that Angus, thongs and full-frontal snogging has just been made into a movie.

Adventure, thrills and spills

They're plot driven, pacy reads, with an emphasis on action, rather than relationships between characters. Reading them is a lot like watching an action thriller. The detail is in the stunts and the gadgets. You normally can't help but like the main character in each one, because they're often orphaned or alone, or separate from others in some way. They are everyman, ordinary characters in lots of ways, but they always have a few understated talents that make them extraordinary.

I've enjoyed the Alex Rider books by Anthony Horowitz and the Cherub series by Robert Muchamore. The Charles Higson series Young Bond looks popular too, as does the Zac Power spy series for younger readers. It's interesting that primarily adult writers have started to write YA series recently. Who has read the new YA series by James Patterson, Chris Ryan and Andy McNab for instance? What do you think of them?

Twilight Saga Rocks

I just finished reading the four books in the Twilight saga by Stephanie Meyer. Talk about blown away! I was very sceptical about whether I would enjoy books about vampire romance, but Bella, Edward and Jacob were so full of passion and intensity that it was impossible to not get drawn into their love story.

It reminded me a lot of Wuthering Heights, so it didn't surprise me that it's one of Bella's favourite books, and that she even quotes from it. Breaking Dawn arrived on request at the library before I had read the other three, so I borrowed a bestseller copy of Twilight, and then was so desperate to read the next two that I trawled through four shops before finding a place that hadn't sold out.

These books may be about teenagers but they're not just for teenagers. Everyone will remember the hunger, the restraint, the isolation and fear connected with teenage love. The only problem might be that you don't want to put each book down and you never want the series to end. The good news - apparently her follow-on book called The Host is very different, but just as enthralling.