Return of the Prodigal Writer

My dear readers: Hello! How have you been? Someone really must teach me the definition of blogging. Blogging: website, usually maintained by an individual, with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material. Emphasis on “regular”. Would you call one entry a year “regular?” I didn’t think so. Honestly, you’d think I was writing a book or something. And losing my babysitter. And raising four kids, including the near 22-year-old, who’s back home after a successful college career. And trying to lose twenty pounds. And desperately trying to finish the Bronze Horseman screenplay. And getting ready to return to Australia and New Zealand in November. But still. I find it inexcusable that I couldn’t find time to write and apprise you of my goings-on. I promise to do better in the future.

In the meantime, another book, the ninth novel, is finished. Whew. It’s called A SONG IN THE DAYLIGHT. It’s a story of a woman in the middle of her happily-ever-after life gradually embroiled in a passionate mess of her own making. I can’t wait to have you read it and to hear what you guys think of it. To celebrate its arrival in the stores in New Zealand and Australia on October 27, 2009, (with England to follow in the spring of 2010, and the U.S. a little later), I will be returning to the Land of Oz and NZ for three weeks in November. I’m excited about seeing you all. I hope you come to my shows, readings, signings. Details to come shortly. As soon as we have a definite itinerary, we’ll post it either here on in News. But I know I’ll be in Auckland, Christchurch, Queenstown, and Wellington, in New Zealand. And in Australia, we’ll visit Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne, Hobart (!), Adelaide and Perth. I do hope you all can join me for some wine and talk. I’ll try to bring pictures and music, like last time. Do you know how hard it is to work without a babysitter for your kids? Pavla was like a wife to me, but after six years she left me home alone with the children. It was like a divorce, amicable, but no less heartbreaking. And all the things she did for me, picking up the little one from school, carpooling the older ones, doing homework, laundry, food-shopping, all the little errands, the dry cleaning, the post office, suddenly was placed squarely in my overburdened lap, and meanwhile my editor is emailing me every day, saying, Paullina, done with the book yet? What about now? And what about now? Done now? So the day was halved and stressed, and the work was doubled and stressed. Is it any wonder I’m just coming up for air now. The children have started school again, today, but I see that it’s almost time to pick up the little one from school again. What’s funny is, this is what most of you have to live through every day. I know that. I always knew it. I didn’t know how you had time to read my books. But I had been so lucky, because since I finished Tully, I’d never been without some domestic help. At first it was for four hours, then six, then a full day, 9-5. I’ve been with 9-5 help for the last thirteen years. Imagine my shock last March. We tried to find someone great, but failed. No one could be as great as the girl who left me. I must run, the third-grader is waiting, but I will write more tomorrow, and I will tell you about Jindabyne, and also about my beloved grandmother.