I am mortified. I has been misspelling Brian Falkner's name and I apologise. I can not blame anyone when it comes to my name because, really, it is jolly complicated. If you only hear it said, you have a snowball's hope in Hades of spelling it as it should be. But after a lifetime of this I have always made an effort to get other people's names right. So Brian, I am sorry. And folks, it is Falkner, not Faulkner. And Brian, not Brain although Brain is probably a good alternative if you read his books. I have severly punished myself with a large amount of chocolate.
I have been dreaming of international travel recently, possibly prompted by the fact that my daughters are off to the States soon for a couple of cheerleading competitions in Florida. This time we are not accompanying them. I keep looking up residencies but know my children are not yet old enough for me to be absent for several weeks or several months, even if I was fortunate enough to be awarded one. The travel bug is pesky like superbugs resistant to antibiotics or an incurable hangover. I am plagued by wanderlust. My loftiest dreams include travelling overseas because of my books. I try to keep my feet on the ground but experience has shown me you can never tell what's around the corner.
The agent is soon off to Bologna and although Bologna has not yielded me international success and worldwide domination so far, I am ever hopeful. The Were-Nana is making an appearance in Scholastic Australia's very attractive brochure this year and I have given my agent some very eye-catching postcards of my most recent books to lure overseas publishers in, and compel them to sign up overseas rights, or look at other stories of mine still available for first time publication. They are good. Better than chocolate and less fattening too. You know you want them!
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