Helen Lehndorf

Tag: fiction

  • what’s occurring? June to October

    The Bruise Palette beside the bed in my friend Kushla’s beautiful house. I nicked this off her Insta.

    Hello!

    I am resisting the temptation to apologise/explain for the gap between updates here because I know literally no one minds.

    Instead, let’s crack in: here’s some recent book news and life stuff…

    (Technically I wrote two other books in that 15 years but I’m not gonna argue with Hamesh when he uses the word ‘radiant’ to describe my book.)

    Somehow The Bruise Palette, has been out for six months already!

    Here are the adventures it has had so far…

    Hamesh Wyatt reviewed it for the Otago Daily Times (which I think might be the last newspaper which still reviews poetry?)

    There was a review on Radio New Zealand’s Nine to Noon by Lucy Black.

    Lucy also reviewed it for her excellent bookstagram Two Books Black.

    In August, I read poems with dear friends Maria McMillan, Helen Heath and Airini Beautrais in the dear St Peter’s Village Hall in Paekakariki.

    Among the audience were some terrific poets including Dinah Hawken, Tusiata Avia, Hinemoana Baker, Rob Hack, Apirana Taylor and several other greats. I tried not to visibly quake in my plimsolls reading to such formidable talent. I coped by staring into the middle distance lest my eyes settle on another face of NZ poetry royalty. Paekakariki seems to be a hot-bed of artistic talent.

    An article about the Paekakriki reading by Dani Deluka.

    The poster I made for the reading with no help from AI.

    In September, there was an overnighter up to New Plymouth to read with Airini again and Mikaela Nyman . The reading was great fun and we attracted a writerly audience who seemed very interested in ideas around writing craft. It was an intellectually satisfying conversation…& David Hill came along!

    (An aside: For the Paekakariki reading, Airini had sprained her foot and was on crutches. For the New Plymouth reading, she was off her crutches but I had pulled a calf muscle and was limping. Poetry is a dangerous business, it would seem.)

    Another no-AI poster, this time made by Mikaela and Airini:

    If you enjoy literary podcasts, the lovely pip adam recently interviewed me on her podcast ‘better off read’.

    We talked about grief, the place poems come from, our shared love for the reality TV show ‘Alone’ (Pip calls it ‘competency porn’) and how nature is more punk than metal:

    & here’s an event still to come (and more posters made without AI) both posters for an upcoming lunchtime reading at Unity Books Wellington. Airini made the first. I made the second.

    Do come along if you are near by and free.

    Other things lately…

    A lovely gift from my parents:

    Another birthday rolled around and F and I went to the same place we went last year. Just after my birthday last year a whole lot of hard, weird shit happened so I don’t really feel like I got to experience being 53. I was in a kind of free-fall. But time doesn’t care and now I’m 54, like Andy Warhol’s studio.

    Here’s the hut from a nearby hill:

    I got book vouchers for my birthday and (above) is what I chose to spend them on. Old-me would have saved the vouchers to use for Christmas shopping for other people. New-me indulged.

    So far I have read the Hustvedt (heartbreaking, clever, she writes about what the ‘us’ in a couple is rather than she and her deceased husband as individuals, and the loss of that ‘us’) and I’ve started the Robert Lord diaries. I think I was hoping to find he might be NZ’s answer to Derek Jarman (in terms of diary-writing) and he isn’t so far…but I’m only part way in. There’s still time.

    I spent a good chunk of August’s writing time applying for three big things. Applying for big literary things takes so much time. It’s like applying for a job with extra levels of humiliation.

    I’ve already heard back that I didn’t get two of them. One to go.

    I think I made the mistake of falling for the illusion of continued success. I got a couple of things last year and so I thought, way hey! here we go!

    But no, a couple of successes doesn’t guarantee you ‘go’ anywhere. Still, each application means my CVs, etc, are all up to date & that’s a mercy.

    Speaking of literary things from last year, I published the diary from one of the residencies. It’s a bit of gloomy read because I got horribly sick that week.

    But if you are interested in creative process, the tensions of care work versus creative work, the non-linearity of time, zen philosophy, the making of something from nothing…there might be something of interest?

    (Or maybe you just need a good dose of schadenfreude? It might scratch that itch, too.)

    I think that’s all my news?

    Of course there’s been a lot happening in the garden (seed starting! getting the backyard shipshape for summer lolling around) and the kitchen, too (making ferments from the last of the winter crops, enjoying warm potato salads made with little new potatoes – except swap the green beans for new season asparagus.)

    I’ve been starting all kinds of tomatoes: yellow pear, money maker, sweet 100s, and the delightfully named ‘Olga’s Round Golden Chicken Egg’ from here.

    Yes! It’s time for tomato dreaming.

    To sign-off, three good tomato-related things I’ve enjoyed lately:

    Lucy Dacus wrote a tomato song! – truly uplifting tune and video:

    “Life is just a series of close calls.

    One day, one will come to end them all.

    But before then, I’ve got some ideas.”

    From Orion Magazine ‘The Tomato Cure’, a beautiful essay about the ‘quiet medicine of small jobs’.

    & I love a tea towel printed with a recipe – this one by Ruby Seeto is just $10 from Wallace Cotton and $6 from the sale of each tea towel is donated directly to the Starship Foundation, to benefit the young patients and families of Starship Children’s Hospital.

    It would be great for lining a picnic basket, I reckon:

    Here’s to longer days and the smell of sun-warmed tomatoes,

    x Helen

  • Making the most of 24 hours in Carterton

    (Sign in Paul Melser’s yard. It looks convincingly like a NZ street sign but Paul’s wife told me an artist friend made it for them.)

    I intended to write this last November after appearing at Wairarapa Word but a week after this event I suddenly lost my dear friend, a close family member got very ill and everything ‘normal’ was dropped.

    I thought I’d write about it now, though, because it was a delightful dash down to Carterton and I also want to publicly acknowledge Wairarapa Word for their kind invitation.

    I was very excited to be a double-bill with the inimitable force of nature that is Jo Randerson under the title:

    Jo’s latest book ‘Secret Art Powers’ is a must for any creative person. It’s full of inspiration, pep talks and courage and is a big boost to the spirits if you’re flagging. I read it before the event which made me all the more excited to be working alongside Jo.

    While Carterton is close enough to Palmerston North that we could have ‘down and back-ed’ the journey, I booked us an Air BnB for the night so we could do a few touristy things as well.

    There had been a massive storm shortly before Fraser and I drove down for the event and all the way along the road were giant wind-blown trees, their massive roots in the air. There were many farm workers out, chainsawing the felled trees, there were many post-storm burn-ups happening. It gave the trip quite a spooky feeling.

    I love studio pottery and it is what we mostly use as dinnerware in the kitchen so we always stop in at Paul Melser Pottery just south of Masterton if the studio is open.

    I love his studio shop with it’s glass walls. Peace washes over me there.

    I forgot to take a picture of our purchases -we got a wonky cup and a bowl- but here’s a glimpse of Paul’s shop. It’s a little off the beaten track but definitely worth the trip:

    Once we arrived at Carterton, we popped into Aunt Ginger’s Cafe which a Wairarapa friend recommended. It’s a very good spot. Hearty, flavourful food and a great vibe with vintage kitchen ephemera providing a feast for the eyes:

    (Above: cute details from Aunt Ginger’s Cafe in Carterton.)

    Apparently Carterton has a long association with daffodils and has an annual daffodil festival. This pretty street art reflects that.

    I was starting to get the impression that everything Carterton is sweet and characterful and the little Air BnB carried on that impression. It was a dear tiny cottage and a fun place to lay our heads for the night.

    The next morning we looked up somewhere to get a dose of forest and found a nearby reserve which has a short loop track which we took slowly, sitting along the way to enjoy the manifold native birds.

    Below: l love the font on the (1980s?) sign for the reserve:

    Thank you, John Fensham, for your thoughtful gift to nature lovers.

    Above: My travel companion having a sit amongst the trees.

    After our bush wander, it was time to lunch and then Wairarapa Word.

    Meeting Jo was wonderful and we soon realised we had a similar energy and way of spontaneous riffing. We fed on one another’s rebel spirits and the talk ended up being feisty, energetic call-to-action. Wairarapa Word director Madeleine Slavick must have spotted something simpatico in Jo and I. Afterwards, I felt it had been a good pairing.

    Above: Afterwards, Madeleine took this photograph for us. How lovely, hey?

    Here’s a photo of Jo and I with Madeleine and some of the lovely audience members.

    (Above: front left is Jo, then me in the green pants, then local legend, Helen Dew (more on her later) and Madeleine is behind Helen Dew wearing black.)

    Afterwards, Wairarapa Word took Jo and I out for Turkish food before we headed home. Sitting next to me was a wonderfully opinionated and eccentric man with a long white beard. I had a feeling from the way he conducted himself he must be some kind of artist and as our conversation carried on it transpired he was Burton Silver! aka, a very fun dinner companion.

    Madeleine has written a fantastic book about her hometown of Carterton featuring short snapshot like stories and her beautiful photography. It’s a sardonic, moving and insightful book which really captures small town New Zealand life.

    I came away with a warm impression of Carterton and it’s residents. It also reinforced my firm belief that you don’t have to travel far to have an adventure.

    Big belated thank you to Madeleine and the Wairarapa Word committee, to Almo’s Books for selling books at the event, and to Jo Randerson for a heartfelt and incendiary riffing!

  • Writer Carly Thomas on ‘The Last Muster’

    (Above: Me (on left) and Carly Thomas cracking each other up at her 11 October 2024 book launch at the Palmerston North City Library.)

    Almost a year ago, I interviewed writer Carly Thomas live as part of her book launch event at the Palmerston North City Library. I don’t recall the specifics of the conversation but I do remember there was a lot of laughter. Carly is very funny. Also, very self-deprecating.

    I kept insisting she was courageous, intrepid, fearless and she kept batting such suggestions away. She’s a very humble person. In winter, I invited her to be my second slow interviewee. These interviews take place via email exchanges in an unhurried way. The first one was with writer Iona Winter.

    I wanted to check in with Carly a year out from the publication of ‘The Last Muster’: A nostalgic journey into New Zealand’s High Country.’

    H: Congratulations on the publication of your book! & Thanks for inviting me to help you launch it. That was a great night. 

    Can you tell me a bit about your (very impressive) research trips for this book… you did a kind of ‘action research’ where you joined the mustering gangs. I reckon that was so brave!

    C: The launch was so neat and you were a big part of that so a massive thanks to you, Helen. It all seems like a long time ago.

    Writing a book is a funny old thing, it is all consuming and then it is done. It feels like you have been out at sea, in the thick of storms and intense sunshine and then you come ashore and the tide comes in and it goes out and all is calm. That sounds depressing but it’s not, it’s just there’s a lull, a pause, and then an in-between afterwards. 

    I knew straight away that I would go and work alongside the people I was writing about. I started ringing and emailing high country stations that I had already had contact with through previous writing gigs. It took a few calls before I figured out how to communicate what exactly it was that I was doing. It became apparent that I needed to head south for the Autumn weaning musters quickly and so I got straight into getting down there.

    I’d read up a bit on each station I was going to, but not in depth, that would come later. I like to go into things a bit naive. I figure that asking stupid questions is better than assuming you already know, so I did a lot of that. I learnt as I went, was given ideas on where to go next and in that semi-informed/ follow-my-nose style I got passed onto musters. 

    I didn’t have a big planned out map of things, I really just took whatever next turn presented itself. I started down in Glenorchy at Greenstone Station and was well and truly thrown in the deep end on a four day muster with a motley crew of shepherds. After that the ball was rolling – I’d finish a muster, chuck my muddy saddle and gear in the car and head to the next one. Word got out about what I was doing and it got easier to get on the musters. I was learning skills as I went and got more handy as I went.

    My tools for capturing everything were my phone recorder/ camera/ notes, my big Sony camera (not at all fancy) and my memory for conversations. People would say great stuff, as I was riding along trying to keep a bunch of unruly cattle in line, and I would have to remember it until I could do a voice memo of what they said. It was full on and it took my ADHD multitasking superpowers to a new level. 

    I’d do dumps of writing notes when I could, when I had a day or two in between musters, but not a lot of writing happened till I got home. There was a lot of writing in my head on long car journeys. I would try to hold onto each station’s colours, tone, sound, smell, taste and hum. When I did get to sit down, those were the first words to go down, then I got to the long and arduous job of transcribing.

    Research came last, which I guess is a bit round-the-other-way from what some writers do. As I was travelling about I would try to go to local libraries to find historical tales of the area and old mustering yarns. I also collected a pretty big haul of old New Zealand mustering books from the many secondhand bookshops and op-shops I visited on my travels. Once back home I trawled through online archives and libraries to collect up old stories and facts. I went down massive rabbit holes.

    One particular moment of connection was when I was trying to find the history of a particular homestead that had been abandoned on a station. I was coming up against dead ends and in frustration I called a tiny community library opened once a week by volunteers. As I was on the phone to the woman in charge that day who was telling me “just the person I should talk to was…..”, she paused and then said, “you won’t believe this, but she just walked in the door”.

    The particular 90-something-year-old who was the missing link to the information I really needed was put onto the phone. It was magic. She told me things that were not written anywhere and could have been lost if she hadn’t stepped in right then. I just love that sort of thing and there really is something special about these encounters. 

    The whole book writing process was a combination of high adventure, a saddle-sore body, sleep deprivation, many kilometres on my little nana car’s clock and wondering where I would land next and spending hours researching in drafty libraries or sitting on my couch with a cat, a cup of tea and books piled high around me. I am a contrary soul and I enjoy both of those things equally. 

    H: Writing a book is so different from having a book published, isn’t it? 

    Yes, it really is and I think the main thing for me, this being my first experience of working with a big publisher, was knowing this project was bigger than me. I had to trust my publisher and editor and I took the opportunity to just say “yes” and be more open than I have ever been. It wasn’t just my book, it had many people involved, the most important part being all the people I encountered on the journey, who trusted me with their stories and way of life. It’s a responsibility to take care, while also telling it like it is.

    And then it’s done, the final proof is FINAL and the printers crank into gear. And then you have to let it go, into the open, out into the world, into the hands of others. 

    The tide goes out, I take the dog for a walk, I look at the hills with new eyes and I wonder, ‘what’s next?’.

    H: What did you learn about the horse mustering community over the course of writing the book? Did anything surprise you? 

    Every station was different but a few things were always the same. They love their horses and will always have them in their front paddock no matter what. They are people who choose horses over machinery to get the stock work done and that made them a certain kind of person. Horses may be a slower way of doing things, in some respects, but they are a quieter and kinder way to work stock. Stations that use horses tend to care about their animals, enjoy a slower, older way and there’s also a romance to it all as well.

    The way you see things on a horse, the chats along the way possible without the roar of a bike and the relationship you have with your horse. So yeah, they were a certain type, often a little quirky and more often very stubborn about their way of life. And they all knew each other, the connections ran very deep. 

    I was sometimes surprised by their openness in having me along. Their honesty and their passion to really help me to understand what it all means to them. Sure, there were plenty of tight lipped cowboys, but I also experienced real moments of truth and authenticity. 

    (Above: writer Carly Thomas on horseback.)

    H: Do you want to share a favourite moment from your travels with us? 

    That’s got to be on Pitt Island on a day off from mustering the cattle and doing yard work. Me and the two kids from the family I was staying with went for a windy adventure with them leading the way. They proudly showed me the very steep cliff drop-off where they weren’t supposed to go, the quick (and very scary!) way down to the beach and the wharf and the old shearing shed retired back when wool prices dropped to pretty much nothing.

    I was told the names of birds and horses and paddocks and we arrived back hungry, windswept and grinning. Brilliant day! 

    H: What have you been reading lately? Can you recommend a few recent reads? 

    Oh so many good books lately! I have discovered a New Zealand author, Fiona Sussman and now her book Addressed to Greta is a favourite. The main character Greta is one of those memorable ones that you fall in love with.

    I have also become a  little obsessed with Elif Shafak, a Turkish writer who wrote There are rivers in the sky. It’s an epic story told over different decades and cultures. A must-read I’d say.

    Oh and The Homemade God by Rachel Joyce. I love a good complicated family dynamic story and this is a goodie. 

    H: Thanks heaps for doing a slow interview with me, Carly. I hope there are lots of horsey good times in your summer.

    C: Thanks mate!

    *

    Carly is already deep in her next project. It’s an ongoing project to capture the stories of Aotearoa’s rural elderly called Landlines.

    Check out their first short film: