I finally finished the second draft of my second novel (which currently has the working title of Staking a Claim) earlier in April, during the NZ school holidays. We were on a family vacation in the Hawke’s Bay at the time and so celebrated this milestone by going out to the Taradale RSA (Returned and Services’ Association) for roast beef and gravy. It may not have been the most prestigious of venues but it did have the advantage of serving cheap drinks and being located right next door to the motel we were staying in — it doesn’t pay to be sober or have far to walk home when going to dinner in an unfamiliar town with three hyper-stimulated and squabbling children in tow.

I’m not quite sure what sins my wife and I committed in a past life to deserve it, but I swear that every time we go out for a meal with our children one or the other of them will spill their drink all over the table. Sure enough, it happened again at the Taradale RSA. To be fair to the child responsible, we had (mostly) finished eating by then but, with liquid waterfalling over the sides of the table and into our laps, we took that as the cue to return to our motel unit, where the drinks were even cheaper.

Now that the celebration is over, it’s back to the hard slog of writing. I’m currently in the process of reading through my story chapter by chapter and making notes of things that need tweaking or clarifying for the next draft. I need to find the answers to such pressing questions as ‘how much did it cost to build a four bedroom, two bathroom house in Cromwell in the year 2000’ and, ‘does a 2003 Hyundai Santa Fe have keyless entry?’ Unfortunately, historical research is not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when I think of ‘activities that get me excited and make me wish I could spend every waking hour participating in them’. Since I’m writing humorous fiction, a certain amount of implausibility is necessary to serve the story, but there’s a balance to be found between the improbable and the impossible that’s easy to get wrong if you’re not careful. There’s always that one person so obsessed by plotholes and anachronisms in their literary fare that they’ll write a letter to point out that the cylinder on a Smith & Wesson revolver actually spins counter-clockwise, not clockwise.

Speaking of historical research, one of the most fun things I did with the children in the school holidays was take them to an open day at the Whangarei Museum, Kiwi House and Heritage Park. They loved the kiwis (who wouldn’t), but were even more taken with the old school building on site; it was set up so they could dress in old-fashioned clothes and sit at the old wooden desks drawing on chalk slates and practicing their cursive handwriting with a fountain pen and ink. Of course, the same child that spilt water all over our dinner while on vacation knocked his inkwell all over the floor of the schoolhouse, but the demonstrator didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. “It washes out,” she reckoned. “Maybe not the first time, but, you know, eventually.” Anyway, it was very cute and the kids loved kickin’ it old school and want to go back and do it all over again.

I just wish they could get that excited about going to school on a normal day.

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