Tidal

On a word for the new year

For eleven months of the year the idea of tides barely ripples the surface of my life. Then, for three weeks in January (and if we’re lucky, another in April) the tide becomes the metronome of our days.

High tide means jetty-jumping, pulling the SUPs and kayaks up on the shore and looping the ropes around branches, sometimes - after rain - twisting sticks into the banks as markers and a breathless wait to see if the river bank will break and flood our campsite.

Low tide reveals new secret beaches to play on, smooth pebbles and bleached shells, rockpools, hard sand to stride out on, mud.

Corringle Slips, off the Snowy River on Gurnaikurnai Country.

When we gather our motley flotilla of body boards and SUPs and kayaks and the old yellow tinny to cross the mighty Snowy to have lunch at the Marlo pub on beautiful Gurnaikurnai country, we make sure we’ll have the incoming tide to help us home, sun-smacked and full of parmas and fried calamari, jugs of raspberry lemonade, more of the local beer - we are merrier than when we set out in the morn, our rowing arms tired.

It’s not only the tide we suddenly, newly, pay attention to: we are at the mercy of the elements here, a week of no moon means more head torches required but also astounding star-clustered nights. The wind plays havocs with tarps and the fire smoke driving straight through dinner prep, but it also keeps the mozzies away and they have been vicious in the humid days, the tables littered with more Aeroguard than sunscreen this year. The rain - when it comes - is torrential. Sixty three mil in a day (we proudly check on our apps) but warm enough that we dig trenches in our bathers and by the next morning have hung out the camp to steam dry in the sun.

Yes the break from work and the city and social media and obligations helps me reset my body and brain each summer, but it is also, acutely, retuning to this alternative rhythm: of weather, of moon, of tides.

I’m hoping to bring these rhythms into more of my life this year (including being obsessed with visuals of tides!) - and I’m carrying ‘tidal’ into 2024 as a heartstone word.

For me, ‘tidal’ means:

• paying attention to the world outside my walls and computer screen - the wind, the moon, the weather, the changes in my garden

• recognising the ebbs and flows of energy and focus in my own daily life and that of my family

• taking time for a rest after high energy output

• making space to lean into my work and pull away from it as it, and I need, similarly remembering that rhythm with friends and family

• knowing that sometimes big tides come in and gouge out the shore, leaving holes and erosion and chaos but that gentler tides rebuild those holes and sometimes change the lay of the land

A book I return to and recommend again and again is Night Fishing by Vicki Hastrich. A collection of essays on writing and life and being on the water that reminds the reader of the splendour of paying attention to the world around us. In ‘Things Seen’ Hastrich writes of the book she keeps hidden at the back of the bookshelf at the family holiday shack where she notes down the living things she sees in the area. She writes:

The importance of the book is as an aide-memoire. For each creature listed—on the page only a couple of words, little more than a noun or two—there’s a detailed picture in my head. And not only that—attached to each mental image is the feeling of the experience I had of seeing.

So the list itself is bald:

The fairy penguin.

The dead snake at the beach.

The turtle swimming at the corner of the oyster lease.

But the notebook is a path to their re-creation. To renewed pleasure. To revisited wonder. To the intake of breath in that moment when my brain understood what my eyes were seeing.

Vicki Hastrich, Night Fishing, pp 25-26.

The ‘Things Seen’ activity is one I’ve used in the past with writing students as a way of flexing the muscle of acute noticing. Years ago I was introduced by writer Penni Russon to a similar activity from Lynda Barry, sometimes called the Lynda Barry Four Square journalling technique (Penni’s just convinced me to purchase Barry’s Syllabus where this activity is outlined), where the journaller takes a few minutes to list under the headings DID, SAW/NOTICED, HEARD and then makes a drawing.

This week I’ve found joy each morning at the first flowering of a ginger plant on our steps. In a writing mentoring session with a fabulous mentee - we did an exercise using the first line of Mary Oliver’s poem ‘Don’t Hesitate’, writing for three minutes on a recent moment that brought us joy.

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give into it. (Mary Oliver, ‘Don’t Hestitate’)

This morning the ginger flowers - long yellow trumpets with red stamen needling out from each centre, smelling like the tropics in the cool Melbourne summer dawn. The rain has turned them into something gargantuan, prehistoric. Venita gave me the cuttings years ago now and they have finally grown into themselves. I did not know they would flower like this. Unexpected delight.

After a long January of thinking about words but not writing them, it was a first step in getting the fingers scribbling. If you have a crack at writing down an ‘unexpected joy’ moment, I’d so love for you to share in the comments.

Finally, a huge, gratitude-filled welcome to new subscribers and welcome back to those of you who have been along for the ride over the last year.

What you can expect from The Bowerbird this year: monthly missives on what I’ve been reading, thinking about, and loving along with news about events coming up. For paid subscribers you’ll get an additional post each month deep diving on an aspect of writing craft or business - be that narrative timelines or publicity timelines. I’d love to hear from you on what you’d like me to cover - comment in the post below or get in touch on social media.

What I’ve

Been reading

• The Future - Naomi Alderman. LOVED Alderman’s first novel The Power and love this even more. Wrote about it on insta.

• This Other Eden - Paul Harding. Exquisite writing on a dark period of history. Small and perfect.

• Pet - Catherine Chidgey. My wonderful publicist, Anna O’Grady, recommended this while we were whizzing around bookstores last year and I’ve just got to it. Fabulous voice. Heavenly Creatures vibes. Loved it. Will be going back to Chidgey’s previous work.

• Everyone On This Train is a Suspect - Benjamin Stevenson. Late to this party, and still haven’t read Stephenson’s first best-selling novel where it all began but really enjoyed this. Loved the publishing world satire, loved the premise, loved the masterclass on writing thriller’s that Stephenson weaves into the narrative. Cracking read.

• The Art of Breaking Ice - Racheal Mead. Currently reading this story of Nel Law, the first Australian woman to set the foot on Antarctica. Heard Racheal speak about the book and the research during the wonderful Port Fairy Literary Weekend, alongside Robyn Mundy, author of Cold Coast (which I loved). I’m obsessed with Antarctica novels and so enjoying Mead’s rendering of this story.

Been listening to

• Strangely, for me, the cricket. Especially the ABC commentary on the long drive back from the beach. I was reminded of Inga Simpson’s wonderful novel Willowman and the excellent conversation I had with Inga Simpson at Readings (which you can listen back to on The First Time podcast) about her deep love of cricket and the writing of this book.

Been watching

• Deadloch. Utterly brilliant. Loved this so much. Gushed about it here.

• Society of Snow (Sociedad de la Nieve). I clearly remember watching Alive as a teenager. This retelling of the true story of the survivors of an Uruguyan Air Flight that crashed in the Andes mountain is harrowing and deeply moving.

• Yellowjackets S2. Fittingly jumped into S2 of Yellowjackets straight from watching Society of Snow. The Andes crash is in part the inspo for this series. Loved S1 and only up to first ep of the new season but GEE - those actors are a treat. Using this, in part, as inspo for my new novel…

Got coming up

I’m now fully recovered from the epic exhaustion of last year’s tour for The Hummingbird Effect (loved every minute of it!), and looking forward to a year of writing but also of festivals and events.

• This Saturday Feb 3rd, I’m hosting a free workshop - Creative Resilience - at Eltham Library in conjunction with Writers Victoria. 2pm, Eltham Library. It’s sold out but there is a wait list if you’re keen. Eltham Bookshop will be there on the day selling books if you’re keen to grab a signed copy. Waitlist here.

• I LOVED Karen Viggers' new novel Sidelines and delighted to be hosting an In Conversation event with her at Eltham Bookshop. So much to discuss in this topical novel on junior sports, parent behaviour, pressure, gender equity and more! Feb 14, 6.30-8pm. Bookings here.

• Just confirmed, I’m so pleased to be hosting Jo Dixon at Readings Emporium on Feb 19th to celebrate her new thriller A Shadow at the Door. 6pm. Bookings here. Huge thanks to Christine Gordon at Readings for quickly supporting authors who cancelled upcoming events at Robinsons Books as a consequence of owner Susan Horman’s comments on X.* Also check out Mary-Lou Stephens and the celebration of The Chocolate Factory with Fiona Taylor on Thurs March 7.

Thanks so much for your presence here. Hoping there are multiple moments of unexpected joy in your days. Until next time, K xx

* I wasn’t going to include the Susanne Horman and Robinsons Bookstore issue in this newsletter but after waking up to yet another attempt at an apology and a tripling down on Horman’s position that we need ‘more books for men and boys’ I’m including some links to get those of you who might not already be, up to speed. In short, with love and respect and solidarity to staff at Robinsons Books, there is a widespread call to boycott the store until Horman is no longer at the helm.

Check out:

• Stories and posts from @coffeebooksandmagic including Horman’s original and now deleted tweets

• The positive reframe on the issue and call to nominate #betterbookshops from Zana Fraillon here

• Excellent article in The Conversation from Sarah Mokrzycki outlining the actual stats on diversity in Australian books

• Widespread coverage from Arts Hub, The Guardian, The Age, News.com.au,