Well folks it’s official, we’re heading north this August for a much needed migration to hopefully warmer climes.  Albeit it is only for three weeks, but I have told my trusty husband, “it will give you a good idea of what’s what in the lowerish North Island".
​(You may remember that conversation stems from his rating me as a wife, less than perfect).

So I have a wonderful trip planned starting in my childhood growing-up-place-Whanganui, winding north as far as Rotorua, then travelling south-east as far as Masterton, back up to Palmerston North, and eventually heading towards Peter Jackosn's  Wellywood.  I would love to see you if you are free to come along! Here are the library talk dates:-
 

Whanganui Davis Library: Queens Park Tues Aug 14, 6:30 pm
Taumaranui Library: Thurs Aug 16, 1pm
Rotorua library Discovery Centre: Fri Aug 17th, 1:30 pm
Taupõ Public Library: Mon Aug 20th, 1pm
Napier Library: Tues Aug 21st, 5:30 pm
Waipukerau Library: Wed Aug 22nd, 5:30 pm
Masterton Library: Fri Aug 24th, 2pm
Palmerston North Library: Sat Aug 25th, 1:30 pm
Foxton Library: Mon Aug 27th, 10:30 am
Paraparaumu Library: Tues Aug 28th, 2pm
Stokes Valley Library: Wed Aug 29th, 2pm

I have also had special requests to give talks at three retirement villages:-
Whanganui: Aug 15th, 10:30 am Jane Seymour Retirement Village
Hastings: Aug 21st, 2pm Summerset at the Orchard
Havelock North: Aug 22nd, 2pm Summerset in the Vines
 
 I do hope to catchup with you at one of these places.

​I reckon I should be getting a good 8-9 on the husband-rating-scale regarding this travel to unvisited places in the North Island, don’t you think?   Emma :-) 

​Well here I am embarking on my blogging again, and I thank you for your patience. You see the unexpected arrived, so in writing terms, here is my ‘back story’.

Kotz and I undertook our well advertised Southern Library Tour in February, an exciting time to venture out in our ’new’ 2001 caravan (see previous blog) . Along the way we met many enthusiastic fellow campers,  readers and librarians, eventually arriving in our old haunt Balclutha to spend an afternoon at Murray’s memorial service.  There, we caught up with old Balclutha buddies, wallowing in special memories of where it ‘all began’…

​

We wound our way further south then headed north again until we eventually arrived in Gore. That evening at the local library, one of the ‘talk attendees’ gave us a huge start, appearing as a dead ringer for an old dear Alaskan friend, Tom Harpole. This gentleman proved he had Alaskan roots also, questioning and interjecting throughout my talk, adding information and corroborating.  Invited to a post talk dinner, where Alaskan-adventure-sharing was a promising main course, our new friend along with his South African rancher girlfriend dined out on adventures! We reluctantly left them to head back to our cosy caravan in anticipation of a gallop up to Queenstown the following day.
 
However an over night call from Nelson informed us that my mother had suffered a stroke. Dunedin, not being too far from Gore, was where I caught a plane back home the following day, to be with my Mum. My trusty husband drove all the way back to Nelson with the caravan.

​One week later my dear mother who never regained consciousness, died with us by her side. We held a memorial service for her three weeks afterwards in Christchurch; a service attended by around eighty friends and family.  What a spectacular sunny day and a loving and laughing, meaningful farewell.

So it was, that in mid April, already scheduled for talks in Christchurch, we decided to complete the remainder of our southern tour. After visiting Queenstown, Te Anau,  Waimate (my mother’s birth place), Ashburton and Rangiora, we eventually headed home with just enough books left over. (Whew).
 
There, so now you have the ‘back-story’.
 
Since then I have been planning a North Island tour to start mid August, and have been called on to do a spot of unexpected and delightful relief teaching at a local school. As of today (ta da de dah) we have just returned from a South Pacific cruise specially for Kotz’s birthday!
 
I do plan to keep on keeping you posted.

​Happy New Year, everyone! It is so hard to believe that 18 years have already passed since the New Millenium; a time when Kotz and I first met and camped out on the beach at Kaka Point, South Otago, to watch the dawning of the ‘new age’.

Sadly, Mr Murray Moore QSM, our great friend and the principal I both secretly and openly admired when I worked for him at Balclutha Primary School, died before Christmas. On February the 17th, 2018 there will be a special memorial service held for him at Balclutha Primary School, so we will be heading back down to Balclutha and Kaka Point, places which remain so precious in our memories.

​​This New Year, up here in Nelson, Kotz went camping again. This time it was in the stunning Abel Tasman National Park, accompanied by Ella who was visiting us from Brisbane. “Why didn’t you go?” I was asked. ”Well it’s not really my thing", was my response.

My thing was to write a blog and continue to organise my upcoming southern tour. You see, on the way to and from Balclutha I'm giving fifteen talks, so will be afforded the opportunity to laud my old boss everywhere I go. So if you’re in the vicinity, please come along and introduce yourself!  ​

 
Feb 14th  (Wed) Geraldine Public Library 2pm
Feb 15th  (Thurs) Oamaru Public Library 6pm
Feb 16th  (Fri) Lawrence Public Library 4pm
Feb 17th  (Sat) Balclutha Public Library, ”Where it all started!” 11am
Feb 19th  (Mon) Rowena Jackson Retirement Home 2pm
Feb 19th  (Mon) Invercargill Public Library, 5:30pm
Feb 20th  (Tues) Winton Memorial Hall, 11 am
Feb 20th  (Tues) Te Anau Public Library, 7pm
Feb 21st  (Wed) Gore Public Library 6:30pm


My talks are resuming mid April.  Do come along and introduce yourself, I'd love to meet you!

April 12th (Thurs) Queenstown Public Library 7pm
April 13th ( Fri)  Wanaka Public LIbrary  2pm
April 14th (Sat)  Waimate Public Library 11am
April 16th ( Mon) Ashburton Public LIbrary 7pm
April 18th ( Wed) Rangiora Public Library 7pm
 
P.S. Yes, I am still planning on touring in the North Island later in the year! I may see you there...

 

Well since my last blog I have been in Christchurch, Balclutha ( where ‘it’ all began), Dunedin, Auckland  (including the amazing zoo), Wellington and Greytown, Wairarapa.

In between I prepared and delivered a talk for about 300 9-13 year-olds at the Mapua Literary Festival, managing to keep them entertained with the help of a good moose hunting story, a wolf’s pelt and about 70 photos of bush Alaska!

 "In the Mapua Hall for 9-13 year-olds, Emma Stevens entertained with a talk, slides and wonderful items from her Alaskan adventure Walking on Ice. Briefed to please be adventurous and gory for  this young crowd of about 300, Emma fulfilled the purpose completely by bringing amongst many fascinating items and stories, a stuffed wolf's head in a bag." (Tasman Leader Sept 21). We generated a lot of heat it in there!

Along with all this travelling, talk-preparing and delivering, I have now completed recording the entire Walking on Ice memoir for radio, which began this week and will be aired every Mon, Wed and  Fri  at 10:30 am on Nelson’s Fresh FM. Each week's recordings will play again every Saturday night between 7-8 pm. 
Podcasts will be available from their website http://www.freshfm.net 

 

Ever since my arrival in Nelson ten years ago, I have been searching for Paratai’s daughter Moana, convinced that Paratai had told me she lived here.  Paratai, my Maori kuia had died when I was living in Chevak, Alaska. Last Tuesday I attended a tāngi (funeral), where I finally learned of Moana’s whereabouts. I had been searching under the wrong name!  A call later that night put us in touch.
The following day I finally met Moana, who is the image of her mother. As though Paratai was pushing us together we fell into each other’s arms. “I can feel Mum with us,” Moana said through sobs. I nodded, too choked up to speak. Hugging Moana felt just like hugging Paratai.
We found a café in the grounds of Founders Park and pored over the photo albums Moana had brought. I gave her copies of my Alaskan memoirs in which Paratai lives on. Dancing on the Tundra includes a dedication to her memory. We talked and talked and talked.

 I left Moana to attend a meeting at Fresh FM radio station.  This meeting was to pursue an idea spawned by a comment the sound technician made after recording an interview for Top of the South writers the week before.*
         “Have you considered serialising your book Walking on Ice, Emma?” Fifteen minutes later we had a verdict.  “Let’s do it!”

So hold on to your hats folks, Walking on Ice is about to be serialised, thanks to Fresh FM Nelson. It will be read...ta da te da...by ME!

The 15-20 minute-broadcast of Walking on Ice will begin on Monday Sept 25th at 10:30 am with subsequent broadcasts on Wednesday and Friday at the same time. The serial with continue to be broadcast for 7 weeks, every Mon, Wed, Fri until the story is finished. Each Saturday night at 7pm there will be a catch-up session of the previous week's recordings. 

Fresh FM is a Community Access radio station which can be heard on 104.8 in Nelson-Tasman, 95.0 in Takaka and 88.9 in Blenheim. It also operates in the inner Nelson City area on 107.2. Apparently there is also a possibility that other FM stations will pickup the program and broadcast them in different centres.

This exciting development means that I will be creating audio files of Walking on Ice that I can subsequently release as an audio book; something that so many of you have asked for.
 
Whew…. Ain’t some days just straight out of the box?

I know it has been a while since I have written a blog, but you see it has all been the fault of numbers.  Let me explain.
 
I noticed after my last rash of blogs (I think eight in a row, a week apart), that my writings had not generated much more interest than usual.  Why was this?  Maybe, I thought, I am overloading my gentle readers. Maybe (pleasant holiday thought), I could take a bit of a rest.

Later that morning I cooked Kotz a state-of-the-art breakfast and we sat together on our sunny deck enjoying the food, the company and the array of bird activities we could spy from our eating position.
      “Look at the tuis!” Kotzman exclaimed watching two native birds sucking from the water feeder I had positioned in the front garden. Enjoying the view, food and company a thought occurred to me. Smiling sweetly at him I asked an impromptu question.
       “So sweetheart, as a wife what mark out of ten would I get?” 
I was truly confident with Kotz’s gentle nature and my spectacular attention to his every need my score would be hovering in the upper nines. Kotz looked at me and without even a loving twinkle in his eye to show any usual joking he might mean, he solemnly declared, “Six point five.”

The sound of my jaw hitting the table ricocheted around the South Island.
       “What?” I gasped, looking at him in total horror, “Why is it so low?”
     “Well honey,” Kotz said, reaching across the table, patting my hand in an apparent attempt to dissipate the shocked expression on my face. “When we came back to New Zealand ten years ago, you told me you’d show me the North Island.” He paused and looked at me wistfully.  “You know I haven’t seen any of it yet!”

That piece of important information set off an avalanche of activity.

Since then thanks to Grabaseat-cheap AIr New Zealand flights, and Airbnb, we have visited Wellington, Auckland, and are about to head to Christchurch/ Dunedin, then back to Auckland and Wellington.
This flurry of travel has of course kept me from my writing desk, and even though I am booked to give many talks up and down the country, my main focus is currently raising my score with Kotz.
 
This very morning I dared ask again.
       “Don’t worry honey,” Kotz replied happily, “you’re in the high eights!” 
Hmm, he obviously wants more travel, I thought. So if you find the blogs are a little spread out, then guess what I will be doing- playing the numbers game.

While writing my childhood memoirs, I totally lose track of the time. When my head comes up from the keyboard, I am disoriented, momentarily even forgetting which house I am in.  You see I travel back in time, and find my youthful self in my classroom, bedroom or backyard. As soon as I am there, so many related memories come flooding back. In fact, at times I can’t type fast enough to get all of those memories down.

Early in the week, I asked one of my friends about some details of our early childhood classroom. ‘Oh I can’t remember that,’ she said. I then read her some of the memoir I’d been writing about that time.  Several days later she spoke to me again, ‘It was funny Em, after you read to me it made me start thinking about that time, and now so many memories have come back!’

Many years ago, I worked as an EEG technician, running electroencephalograms to detect brain injury and evidence of seizures.  My position was in a clinic at the local psychiatric hospital, where I saw both inpatients and outpatients. Many of the inpatients were convinced I was going to give ECT, Electroconvulsive Treatment, something that the hospital had retained as part of its battery of ‘fixes’ for severe depression. The fact that I was dressed like a technician, and there was a bed for patients to lie down, also didn’t help. The names EEG and ECT looked and sounded similar to some patients and I suppose me placing wires all over the patient’s head did nothing to quell their fears, no matter how many times I tried to calmly explain that my test was painless.

One day after arriving in the clinic, a highly anxious elderly patient became gradually convinced that he recognised me. 'I know you, you performed a tonsillectomy on me in 1936!' he finally shouted, his frail body suddenly developing muscles of steel. He lunged, holding me by the throat until the two stunned orderlies accompanying him were able to loosen his grip. It was obvious something about the setting and experience had stimulated that distant memory in him.

So while immersing in and then emerging from my writing this week, I’ve been pondering this. I have thought about pockets of memory and what evokes them. I’ve even decided that helping others access their precious memories may be the most important role of a memoir writer.  A reader once told me, 'You know sharing your stories has just brought to mind, so many of mine!'

Throughout the week, and during most of the above activities, my mind kept straying back to a podcast I listened to at Ella’s suggestion; “Getting Noticed in a Noisy World with Your First Book,” with Michael Hyatt (As below).

There is just so much to organise yourself when you are a self-publishing author.  I have been thinking that I really need a PA because my daily tasks before getting to the writing part are just so time consuming.
 Here is a taste of my daily world:

• Check emails and write responses. This is the most time consuming part as emails vary so much from day to day. They may encompass responding to topics such as writing about a reader's own memories of Alaska, answering questions about some aspect of my stories, answering enquiries about upcoming talks, book orders, responding to questions about their own writing, or simply replying to a complimentary email about a reader's enjoyment of my writing.
  
• Prepare books from internet sales; signing, addressing and placing book marks and business cards inside. Put packages by front door for posting.
• Respond to or ask questions about development of my website, an ongoing and evolving process.
• Check the number of books, postage bags, bookmarks, business cards remaining and reorder as needed.
• Talk with my printer about further print runs and where to send them.
• Decide on an outfit, “Which quspuk this time?” for an upcoming talk.
• Prepare book bags, artefacts and spare books for an upcoming talk.
• Charm Kotz in the hopes he will accompany me to said talk.
• Worry about getting talks into the North Island, “How can I do that?”
• Check calendar for upcoming appointments.
• Make any necessary bookings for upcoming talks.
• Try to write 500 words of my new writing project.
• Write blog.

Having thought about all this, I am realizing that Kotz is a actually a very good PA for me and I am lucky. He provides ongoing positive encouragement, even when I am exhausted. He gives me reminders – ”What’s happening this week, honey?” He is my box and luggage-toter, as well as my postie.  His ears are always flapping to hear any piece of writing I may be doing.
 
So I am grateful for my very own PA; even if he does continue to puff on his beloved cigars when I read to him, leaving me wondering if it is the cigars or the writing that lowers his lids in definite pleasure.

My public speaking journey really began back in 2008 when I gave a talk at the Motueka Community Centre. This first public talk was organised by Anne, a secretary at the nearby Parklands School who heard me speak, show some Alaskan artefacts to one of the classes, and watched the enthralled reaction. "Would you be  happy to share your stories to a local community group, Emma?" she asked. Since that initial meeting I have been invited to speak to many groups, probably well over sixty by now, all subsequent invitations spawned from members of my audiences, and through word of mouth. 
 
I had actually planned on writing an Alaskan memoir before this public speaking circuit began. It was why I wrote regular newsletters home in my early years of living in bush Alaska; knowing the newsletters would remind me of details of the adventures I was having. These early presentations confirmed that desire. My audiences told me, “Write your stories down Emma, we’d love to read  them!”

The whole situation was caused by under-supply. There were not enough books out on display. Having had so many public speaking experiences by now, I was cross that I had arrived under-prepared. I usually carry extra stock with me in my car. Kotz and I had driven to Christchurch from Nelson via Hanmer Springs where I inadvertently left the extra box of books in our motel room.  After the talk, Kotz was fielding as many questions as I was and we were both unable to carefully monitor the book sales.
 
I contacted the club to let them know, as well as to offer a sparkling new copy of the book to swap for the less than pristine copy in some poor buyer’s hands. I await contact with bated breath...
The journey of a self-published author is one of continuous learning and improvement but you know, I wouldn't have it any other way.