Came across this exciting project coming out of Canada soon. A graphic novel entitled Kill Shakespeare by Anthony Del Col(Co-Creator)
Conor McCreery (Co-Creator) and Andy B. (Artist)
I showed my students the book trailer and they were very excited.
I love the illustrations and I would love Banquo's Son to be turned into a graphic novel. Many people agree it would make an amazing GN.
May I suggest you have a good look around the website. It's a fun place to visit and any fans of Shakespeare will, I'm sure, be looking forward to publication.
Also, go here to find out why they are doing what they are doing. In a word: GENIUS!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Value of Time
Monday to Friday 8am-4pm teaching.
Monday to Friday, sometimes I snatch 30 mins or an hour after school or an hour in the early hours to write.
But, the best time to write is when I have nothing else to do BUT write. It is during these times I look closely at what I've written and see opportunaties for a bit of a chin wag; a bit of a story within a story; a time to see where things need fleshing out.
Because of my deadline, I'm saying no to pretty much all evening (and daytime) activities. See you after the 1st of April, I'm telling people. This is a good strategy.
This is what is happening right now and I'm loving it even though today I've cleaned the kitchen (think greasy dusty gunk on top of the range hood, wiped the cupboards, cleaned the toaster and the kettle, washed the floor) and vacuumed the house with my friend Jo's amazing machine, got the hair cut and coloured, shopped for food, and sorted bills.
AND, I managed to get youngest to damp dust key areas around the house and eldest to clean the bathroom.
Tonight, we have both children out (youngest at a sleep over; eldest with bf's parents for birthday bash). Hubby is surfing net and watching tv. I'm in the living room WRITING (or EDITING and WRITING) cos it's really really windy here in Dunedin which makes my studio really noisy.
Why are you blogging you may ask? Consider it a rest room break.
One of my writer friends alerted this clip from YouTube
which I have found hiliarious. Thank my God that I don't have an editor/agent like this.
Now, interval over - back to Scotland.
Monday to Friday, sometimes I snatch 30 mins or an hour after school or an hour in the early hours to write.
But, the best time to write is when I have nothing else to do BUT write. It is during these times I look closely at what I've written and see opportunaties for a bit of a chin wag; a bit of a story within a story; a time to see where things need fleshing out.
Because of my deadline, I'm saying no to pretty much all evening (and daytime) activities. See you after the 1st of April, I'm telling people. This is a good strategy.
This is what is happening right now and I'm loving it even though today I've cleaned the kitchen (think greasy dusty gunk on top of the range hood, wiped the cupboards, cleaned the toaster and the kettle, washed the floor) and vacuumed the house with my friend Jo's amazing machine, got the hair cut and coloured, shopped for food, and sorted bills.
AND, I managed to get youngest to damp dust key areas around the house and eldest to clean the bathroom.
Tonight, we have both children out (youngest at a sleep over; eldest with bf's parents for birthday bash). Hubby is surfing net and watching tv. I'm in the living room WRITING (or EDITING and WRITING) cos it's really really windy here in Dunedin which makes my studio really noisy.
Why are you blogging you may ask? Consider it a rest room break.
One of my writer friends alerted this clip from YouTube
which I have found hiliarious. Thank my God that I don't have an editor/agent like this.
Now, interval over - back to Scotland.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Banquo's son insanity
It's insane, I know, that I usually wake in the early hours of the morning. It's often because of one of the cats; sometimes it's hubby snoring; or it's because I've come out of my deep sleep and gone into light sleep which is always about either the current stress in our lives or a scene from 11th Century Scotland.
So, I lie there. Awake. Listening to the hum of the fuse box, the night birds (or far too early birds) outside, the tick of the clock in the main bathroom - placed there to help the girls keep track of time. I think: I'm fully awake. Time is precious. Get up.
Nine times out of ten I do. So, at 4:45am many mornings I can be found un-stacking the dishwasher, sorting out the washing, making lunches (and sometimes making the evening meal). This takes me to 5:30, so I check email and blogs.
By 6:00 am I'm ready to write. That's what I do for an hour.
7:00 is me resetting the jug for my cup of tea while I go get the paper. (In our neck of the woods, we are last to get the morning paper - wahh). I also put on the eggs for my breakfast, call out to the hubby and eldest before I settle at the dinner table to do the Sudoku and Code Cracker.
All through this un-cracking of codes, I continue to wake the family; continue with the laundry.
By 7:30 they are surfacing and I'm dressed and fed and doing more chores.
Am I a goddess? No. Look at the end of the day. I'm in bed by 8pm; sometimes, if I'm really lucky, it's 9! I miss out on all those family things like discussing whether Chandler really is the best match for Rachel - meh.
Today I did equivalent to the morning routine, in the afternoon, took a child to the doctor (waited 45 mins - gah) then went out to the horse then came home. God-like husband cooked fab meal but I'd retired straight away to type the minutes of last night's NZSA meeting - cos I said I would. Oh, and I sorted the laundry and put another pile in the machine (don't be mad but this family ALWAYS uses the drier!) so that school shirts and socks are available for tomorrow.
During today, I fended off the bank, the gardener, the mechanic and the lawyer - such is my charm. I also marked 38 essays. And, my class room is still tidy.
Why do I do it?
Because I am a story teller and a teacher and mother and wife. Plagued with all these roles (not a cook - though I can; nor a gardener - though I can - nor someone who sews, paints, knits, runs - though I can and I can and I can - but I choose not to)
I am Tania Roxborogh who is a teacher who writes or a writer who teachers. I am also mother wife friend. And, I hope, good enough at doing all these jobs.
do not envy me, dear reader. The life of a write is not an easy one. We are driven. Plagued. Obsessed. Compelled. Exhorted. Required.
We must write.
I think of the line from Janet Frame's Poem 'Yet Another Poem About a Dying Child' (which I study with my Y11 class) which says: he must rock the web of pain until the kind furred spider with night lamp eyes and soft tread wraps him warm and carries him to a safe place, and eats him.'
Brilliant poem.
Says how I feel at present about being a writer - there are good bits and there are painful bits. We all have to go through what we have to go through to be what we are destined to be.
By the way, though I'm in a struggle place, the writing is coming along well and I'm pleased.
Watch this space
So, I lie there. Awake. Listening to the hum of the fuse box, the night birds (or far too early birds) outside, the tick of the clock in the main bathroom - placed there to help the girls keep track of time. I think: I'm fully awake. Time is precious. Get up.
Nine times out of ten I do. So, at 4:45am many mornings I can be found un-stacking the dishwasher, sorting out the washing, making lunches (and sometimes making the evening meal). This takes me to 5:30, so I check email and blogs.
By 6:00 am I'm ready to write. That's what I do for an hour.
7:00 is me resetting the jug for my cup of tea while I go get the paper. (In our neck of the woods, we are last to get the morning paper - wahh). I also put on the eggs for my breakfast, call out to the hubby and eldest before I settle at the dinner table to do the Sudoku and Code Cracker.
All through this un-cracking of codes, I continue to wake the family; continue with the laundry.
By 7:30 they are surfacing and I'm dressed and fed and doing more chores.
Am I a goddess? No. Look at the end of the day. I'm in bed by 8pm; sometimes, if I'm really lucky, it's 9! I miss out on all those family things like discussing whether Chandler really is the best match for Rachel - meh.
Today I did equivalent to the morning routine, in the afternoon, took a child to the doctor (waited 45 mins - gah) then went out to the horse then came home. God-like husband cooked fab meal but I'd retired straight away to type the minutes of last night's NZSA meeting - cos I said I would. Oh, and I sorted the laundry and put another pile in the machine (don't be mad but this family ALWAYS uses the drier!) so that school shirts and socks are available for tomorrow.
During today, I fended off the bank, the gardener, the mechanic and the lawyer - such is my charm. I also marked 38 essays. And, my class room is still tidy.
Why do I do it?
Because I am a story teller and a teacher and mother and wife. Plagued with all these roles (not a cook - though I can; nor a gardener - though I can - nor someone who sews, paints, knits, runs - though I can and I can and I can - but I choose not to)
I am Tania Roxborogh who is a teacher who writes or a writer who teachers. I am also mother wife friend. And, I hope, good enough at doing all these jobs.
do not envy me, dear reader. The life of a write is not an easy one. We are driven. Plagued. Obsessed. Compelled. Exhorted. Required.
We must write.
I think of the line from Janet Frame's Poem 'Yet Another Poem About a Dying Child' (which I study with my Y11 class) which says: he must rock the web of pain until the kind furred spider with night lamp eyes and soft tread wraps him warm and carries him to a safe place, and eats him.'
Brilliant poem.
Says how I feel at present about being a writer - there are good bits and there are painful bits. We all have to go through what we have to go through to be what we are destined to be.
By the way, though I'm in a struggle place, the writing is coming along well and I'm pleased.
Watch this space
Friday, March 5, 2010
So soon after the awards announement I have subcumbed
Bloodlines begins with a kidnap.
It does not being with Flea.
But soon there is a battle.
Man, these Scots make trouble for themselves. heh heh
It does not being with Flea.
But soon there is a battle.
Man, these Scots make trouble for themselves. heh heh
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