How are you and Nellie similar, and how are you different?
My first reaction on reading this question was that Nellie O’Neill and I aren’t a bit alike. Nellie has experienced unbelievable hardship, and yet she is brave and optimistic and resilient – far more so than I could ever be. And she’s passionate and hot-tempered, while I am usually fairly calm. But when I thought about it some more . . . We both believe that who you are is much more important than what you are. We both hate injustice and prejudice. We both value the love of family above everything else. We are both superstitious. And we both love animals, especially cats! So perhaps we are quite similar after all.
If Nellie were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
In 1849 Nellie’s Saturday mornings would be like every other morning. She would get out of bed and start work at about five-thirty. She would make sure the kitchen stove was well alight, and she’d start to prepare breakfast, first making bread from the bread dough she’d set to rise the night before. So if Nellie was around today, I think she’d sleep in for as long as she could. She’d read in bed until it was time for breakfast, and she’d read some more while she was eating her muesli. (She’d be reading at least three books at once.) After that her best friend Mary Connell would come around, and they’d go off together to their Irish dancing class.
Penny, when you sat down to start the OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
So this was South Australia! It’s hotter than a good turf fire, Nellie thought.
What’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
I’ve always wished I could speak a foreign language fluently. But I wouldn’t say I was too timid to try – just too lazy! I’d be much too timid to do bungee jumping or white-water rafting, but I don’t think I’d want to do these things even if I could . . .
Do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere?
Be true to yourself, and never give up. You just don’t know what wonderful thing might be waiting for you around the corner.
5 QUESTIONS FOR ALISON LLOYD, AUTHOR OF THE LETTY BOOKS
How are you and Letty similar, and how are you different?
Letty loves lace and those gorgeous Victorian dresses because I do and I wanted to have them in the Our Australian Girl books! Letty is a younger sister, whereas I was a bossy older sister, but we are both trustworthy and responsible. Letty loves babies, more than I did when I was a kid. And she had a tougher childhood than I did.
If Letty were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
I think she would lie in bed and her younger brothers and sisters would climb in and snuggle with her. She might sing songs with them. Later she might talk Lavinia into making cupcakes together.
Alison, when you sat down to start the OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
‘The coachman dumped the hope chest in the street.’ I started at the beginning.
What’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
When I was a girl I always thought soccer looked like fun. But I wasn’t good at sports, I had no brothers, and there were no football teams for girls then. So I never tried. I also wish I could ride a horse properly. One day . . .
Do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere?
Every Australian girl’s story is unique and precious. You are significant whether you’re in a book or not! As Abner says to Letty in the first book, ‘”He tells the number of the stars; He calls them all by name.” If the Lord God can tell the stars apart, he knows me too. And you.’
5 QUESTIONS FOR DAVINA BELL, AUTHOR OF THE ALICE BOOKS
How are you and Alice similar, and how are you different?
Alice thinks she always has to be perfect – that it’s her job to make sure everyone and everything is okay – and that’s just what I was like when I was a little girl.
But Alice has much more discipline that I do. If I could work as hard at my writing as she works at her dancing, I think I’d feel a lot better! Also, we both like chubby babies, homemade cakes and Dalmatians.
If Alice were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
Ballet, of course! I think she’d have an extra-long class with Miss Lillibet (first barre work and then on pointe), and when they’d finished, Little would bring them a scrumptious morning tea.
When you sat down to start the OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
‘Papa Sir, why did the war make everyone so horrible? You weren’t there, you didn’t see, but it was awful.’
I started right at the end of Book 4, so I knew where I had to end up.
Davina, what’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
Stand-up comedy! And that’s not a joke!
Do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere?
I’d give the same advice that Papa Sir gives Alice, which is this: Make beautiful art with everything that you do – how you live each day.
It’s wonderful to have big dreams and goals and ambitions, but it’s how you do the small things in life – how you talk to people, the effort you put into the things you do – that will shape how your life turns out.
5 QUESTIONS FOR GABRIELLE WANG, AUTHOR OF THE POPPY BOOKS
Gabi, how are you and Poppy similar, and how are you different?
Poppy is much braver than I would ever be. She lived in a time where you had to be brave. In the 1860’s there were not the comforts of today and there were many dangers out on the road like bushrangers. Poppy likes to ride horses and so do I. And Poppy loves her dog Fisher, like I love my dog, Hero.
If Poppy were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
Poppy would read a book while she’s having breakfast. She’s reading Tiger in the Bush. Then she would go outside and climb a tree. The tree looks over into her best friend, Noni’s back yard. She would call out to Noni, and together they would get on their bikes and go on an all-day adventure to the beach.
When you sat down to start your OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
I don’t remember what my first sentence was. I plotted all the Poppy books out in one sitting so it would have been something like, ‘Poppy lives at an Aboriginal mission near Echuca’. It sounds boring doesn’t it? Of course you can’t begin a novel like that. Nobody would read past the first page. It is only after a lot of research is done and some rough drafts are complete that I begin to try and make the sentences sing.
What’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
Gliding. I would love to have the feeling of being completely free, soaring in the sky with only the wind to carry me. I have tried hang gliding and was really scared when I had to jump off the cliff. But I didn’t go very far and I was with a friend. I think gliding would be different. I could be up in the clouds for hours.
Gabi, do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere?
If you want to be really good at something you need to practise. Talent is only a small part of it. If you have a passion, then practise that passion every day.
5 QUESTIONS FOR SHERRYL CLARK, AUTHOR OF THE ROSE BOOKS
How are you and Rose similar, and how are you different?
I think Rose and I are alike in that we both like to think things through and make a decision, rather than putting it off. I suspect Rose is braver than me, and she is definitely better at sport than me. We both love reading, though.
If Rose were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
She’d be playing cricket in the summer! In the winter, I think she would be eating a large breakfast and looking forward to going to the footy.
When you sat down to start the OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
I can’t remember! It’s lost in the drafting somewhere, but I am pretty sure it was Rose wondering
what she would get for her birthday.
Sherryl, what’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
I wish I could play a musical instrument, maybe the piano. I know Rose hates her piano lessons but that’s because the teacher is horrible.
Do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere?
Be brave, stand up for what you know is right, follow your dreams.
5 QUESTIONS FOR SOFIE LAGUNA, AUTHOR OF THE GRACE BOOKS
How are you and Grace similar, and how are you different?
Just like Grace, I loved horses when I was a girl. I have always found them so mysterious and beautiful and graceful. Horses remind Grace that the world is a good and magical place full of possibility and adventure. Maybe horses reminded me of the same thing when I was growing up. I am different to Grace too, though. I am outgoing, I have always loved to laugh and share things with my friends. I am confident in ways that Grace isn’t; I love to put on plays and perform and pretend to be other characters. Grace doesn’t get a chance to discover that side of her personality until she meets Hannah.
Sofie, if Grace were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
Go to a horse-riding lesson with her best friend! And Grace would love picnics – where she can look at the trees and the water and the sky and feel free. Freedom is very important to Grace, as is family. I would hope that if Grace were around today she would find herself in a loving family with brothers and sisters to share her life with.
When you sat down to start the OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
I better get back to the shore before the tide comes in or I’ll be drowned like poor Annie.
What’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
Surfing. I am scared of the waves and of sharks and of being that out of control. But I envy the surfers riding the waves, being away from the streets and buildings and shops and feeling peaceful, feeling brave, feeling powerful and close to nature.
Do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere, Sofie?
Advice? Find creative ways to express anything that feels difficult or scary. Write, draw, make things, perform, play music. Being creative can change the hardest things into wonderful things.
5 QUESTIONS FOR SALLY RIPPIN, AUTHOR OF THE LINA BOOKS
Sally, how are you and Lina similar, and how are you different?
Lina and I are similar in that we both love books and longed to be writers from a very young age. I loved writing stories in English and at Lina’s age, I had a teacher who would often read my work out in class. Also, like Lina, I had a father who was hoping I would go on to university to study to be a doctor or a lawyer, but instead I went to China to study traditional Chinese painting. He was disappointed for a while, but my father is proud of what I do now.
If Lina were around today, what would she do on Saturday mornings?
She’d probably lie in bed til midday and read!
When you sat down to start the OAG books, what was the first sentence you wrote?
Before I began writing the first book, I planned out what was going to happen in the four books in a detailed synopsis. The first paragraph was: ‘Carmelina (Lina) was born in Melbourne of an Italian migrant family. She has two bossy older brothers and one younger brother who she complains about having to look after but secretly adores. The only advantage of being the only daughter in the family is that she doesn’t have to share a room with her brothers, but she does have to share a room with Nonna who is hardy and fierce and doesn’t think twice about giving a wayward child a slap to keep them in line.’
The first line I wrote for Book One made it into the final version: “Lina woke to the sound of the rooster crowing in the back yard.”
What’s one thing you wish you could do really well but have always been too timid to try?
Sing on stage with a band. In another life I would have loved to be a musician.
Do you have one piece of advice for OAGs everywhere?
I love this Oscar Wilde quote: ‘Be yourself, everyone else is taken’. I think it’s a perfect piece of advice for an OAG.
IT must be the longest day this winter, Grace thought, and all I’ve found are a few bits of coal and a piece of rope.
Grace waded towards the riverbank, wiggling her toes into the mud, feeling for anything that had washed in with the tide or fallen from a boat or barge to put in her kettle. That was her job as a mudlark – to search the bottom of the Thames for things to sell. She shivered.
A dirty fog hung over the water, draping everything in grey. The other mudlarks looked like shadows as they waded through the river. Grace felt the water cold against her legs – the tide was on its way in and her dress floated around her like a tent. She knew that soon she would have to get out of the river, but her kettle was only half full.
‘Please let there be something more,’ she said to herself, her teeth chattering, ‘some copper nails or a piece of driftwood.’
Grace looked across the river at a forest of masts. It was the same view she saw every day. Sails of every size billowed beneath the winter clouds. Barges filled with coal and iron held anchor, ready to be unloaded on the shore. Longboats cut slowly through the water carrying fruit and meat to distant parts of London, and busy workboats ferried people up and down the river.
Ouch! Grace gasped when she felt a sharp pain in the bottom of her foot. She bent down and searched around in the mud until she touched something that felt like metal – cold and smooth. She pulled it up. Grace wiped it clean with a corner of her dress and turned it over in her hand, unable to believe it was real. It was an iron hammer, with no rust on its head, and no chips in its sturdy wooden handle. It was the most valuable thing she had ever found – worth as much on the street as a silver watch, she was sure.
‘A hammer – a fine hammer,’ she whispered. ‘Uncle Ord will be so pleased.’
‘Oi! What you find?’ Someone shouted at Grace and she quickly dropped her hands beneath the water.
A figure waded towards her through the fog. It was Joe Bean. He was no older than Grace, but he was the leader of a gang of mudlarks that lived under Blackfriar’s Bridge. Grace had always been good at staying out of their way; she kept her head down so she wouldn’t be noticed, or she worked in the parts of the river where Joe and his boys didn’t often go. They were thieves, and they didn’t think twice about stealing from the barges and from the other mudlarks who worked on their own. If any of the mudlarks ever had money from things they’d sold, Joe Bean would try to take it from them. And Grace knew that if he saw the hammer, he would snatch it from her and take it straight to the marine shop to sell for himself.
‘I got nothing!’ Grace shouted back.
‘I saw something in your hand just then – something shiny. Give me a look what you got!’
Grace’s heart pounded; she couldn’t let Joe see her prize. With a hammer like this to sell, maybe Uncle Ord would be happy with her, instead of angry. He would be proud that she was clever enough to find something so valuable. They could keep the coal Grace had found and light a fire in the hearth – she imagined warming her numb toes and heating up a cinnamon bun on the end of a toasting fork. There’d be enough food for a week!
Grace waded into the shallows, but Joe Bean was close now. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Don’t make me call the boys to look you over.’
Grace shook her head, too nervous to speak. She held the hammer with one hand behind her back. She had never stood up to Joe Bean before, but then she had never found anything as precious as a hammer.
Joe moved towards her. ‘Show me!’
‘No.’ Grace’s voice quavered.
Joe grabbed her arm and tried to pull it from behind her back. Grace fell back into the river, dropping her kettle into the mud. Water splashed up around them as they struggled.
‘No!’ she shouted.
Joe Bean had his hand on the hammer. It was
slipping from her grasp. Grace gritted her teeth and with all her strength, she wrenched it from him. Joe fell back into the water and Grace held the hammer high over him.
‘I said no, Joe Bean! The hammer is mine! You go away and leave me alone!’ Her voice trembled as Joe crawled like a crab through the mud, his eyes wide with surprise. The sharp iron claws on the hammer’s head glinted.
Grace picked up her kettle and ran, knocking straight into a group of sailors clambering out of a rowboat onto shore.
‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ one of them said. ‘A handful of rags like you?’ She could smell whiskey on his breath.
The other sailors laughed at her.
Grace picked herself up and pushed her way past. When she turned around, Joe Bean was lost in the crowd somewhere behind them. Grace hurried higher onto the shore where the crowd thickened, pushing past mudlarks and boatmen, coal whippers, and costermongers selling dried fish and oysters. She breathed a sigh of relief, shoving her way through groups of people waiting for workboats and others lining up to buy fresh fish from the colliers to sell at the market.
Grace gripped the hammer tight and headed home, slowly now and limping. Her foot stung against the cold cobblestones as she dodged the open drains of sewage and the piles of garbage that lined the narrow crowded streets. She stopped to inspect her wound. The cut wasn’t deep – only bloody.
Grace shivered. It was when she got out of the water that she most felt the cold. The wind cut straight through her. It doesn’t matter this time, though, she thought. I’m safe from Joe Bean and I still have my hammer.
In Chatham Square a line of fishmongers stood at a long scaling table. They ran their knives down the backs of freshly caught fish, cutting out the guts and tossing them to the ground, staining the cobblestones a purplish red. The smell of fish filled the air. The women sang as they worked, their arms moving in time to the rhythm of their song.
Meet Ruby Page 6