Australia Day 2018

Here in Australia, we celebrate Australia Day on the 26th of January. It’s a national holiday, spent doing the sorts of things Australians are famous for loving, namely, going to the beach, cooking lamb or sangers (read: sausages) on a BBQ with a bunch of friends. But mostly, just enjoying a day off from work. This year Australia Day falls on a Friday. Perfect! Australians love our long weekends.

(Picture source: https://countrydigest.org/australia/)

But not everyone celebrates Australia Day and not everyone thinks it should be celebrated on January 26th. It is, in more recent years, what we call controversial.

And it doesn’t take much looking back into Australian history to discover why. Prior to the 26th of January 1788, the Indigenous residents of this great land had lived happily for a very, very long time. Suddenly, tall ships containing white ghost with exploding sticks arrived on the shores of New South Wales and a very great injustice began.

(Picture source: https://thenewdaily.com.au/news/state/vic/2017/08/16/melbourne-council-votes-drop-australia-day-ceremonies/)

Some people call the 26th of January Invasion Day and see it as a day of mourning, not of celebration.

Others say we’ve come a long way, with our National Sorry Day, the day that the Australian Government gave a public apology in Parliament recognising the damage done to our Indigenous residents through horrendous policies from the past, where families were torn apart and cultures, ancient cultures, destroyed. We, as Australians, had a lot to be sorry for. And we still do.

The year Australia Day changed for me

This photo is of some of my family celebrating Australia Day in Broome, Western Australia about 6 Years ago. It was the week before we moved to a primarily Indigenous Community. Moving to this community, and seeing the long-term, ongoing effects of some of the Australian government’s past policies changed my feelings toward Australia Day. I had, previously, loved celebrating our National Day, our great nation, our people and culture and all that entails. But that year I saw it through different eyes because I saw first hand the ongoing, deep issues we created for our original residents. It personalised it for me. It made the story of invasion, rather than settlement, real.

There are a lot of social issues, a lot of hurts still to be healed, a lot of generational problems that cannot be solved overnight. It’s so, so complicated. But there are also a lot of really good things happening in some of our Indigenous communities. A sense of pride for who our Indigenous people are and all they represent, is slowly returning to their communities. Languages are being restored (though many have become extinct), culture is once again being passed down from one generation to the next. People are starting to stand up and be proud that they’re indigenous Australians.

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that January 26th 1788 was not a good day in the history of the world, let alone in the history of Australia.

(Photo source: http://aussiegossip.com.au/life/celebrate-australia-day/)

I remember last Australia Day, in 2017, reading many different suggestions about Australia Day and whether the date should be moved, or whether the 26th should be turned into a day of mourning. There are many passionate people out there with their opinion on the matter. But the one I liked, and that I subscribe to the most was this. That we begin January 26th in sobering rememberance of the events in 1788, when Australia was illegally invaded by the British, and the ongoing effects that had on Indigenous Australians. And then, at mid-day, we begin the celebrations. We celebrate who we are becoming as a nation, a nation who accepts that wrongs were done in the past and spends its days trying to make it right again. A nation who recognises saying sorry isn’t enough, and gets behind those who want to see a change and make a difference in the lives of those who have been wronged. After a time of mourning, we begin a celebration of the reconciliation process, and the original culture of our great land, and how it is a part of us all and makes us who we are as Australians, whether Indigenous, a descendent of the invaders, a migrant, or someone wanting to call Australian their permanent home.

With all that in mind, I’ve joined in with 11 other Australasian authors to give away a Prize in celebration of Australia and the great nation of people we are. The 12 novels are written by Australians and many are set in Australia as well. The Boy in the Hoodie, is, ofcourse, both. To enter, pop along to this website: http://www.iolagoulton.com/giveaways/AustraliaDay and sign up to win.

And happy Australia Day - at least for after midday.

If you would like to connect with Catriona further, check out her website here, or head over to Facebook and say g’day here.

On getting published: Pt 2 Actual publication

In my last blog, I talked about my journey to publication, with the first part being about the writing and editing of the The Boy in the Hoodie. I ended the blog with the reminder that getting published is like the tip of the iceberg, where most of the iceberg is hidden under the water. If you haven’t read about all the ground work that goes into preparing for publication, I suggest you might like to go back and read that blog first. Then come back and read about this, more exciting, part. :)

After having written and edited The Boy in the Hoodie, and decided it was right to start sending to publishers (which, by the way, I never really thought it was ready, but I don’t think I ever would have thought it was!), I simply googled publishers in Australia. In my google search, I found a number of Australian publishers who were accepting unsolicited manuscripts at the time. They were varied in their expectations. Some only accepted them on particular days, or during particular months of the year. There were a couple who were running competitions where you could enter your manuscript and the winner would get published. I was surprised at how many opportunities were around.

However, there is some controversy amongst authors as to whether this is a good way to submit a manuscript. Some bloggers were quite scathing of these sorts of submissions. Others said it was more important to find a good agent, than to pursue a publisher. I took all this into consideration, but in the end decided I would send the manuscript to two publishers. One was Text Publishing, who have published one of my favourite Australian authors, Graham Simsion. The other was Rhiza Press, who I knew preferred family-friendly novels and at the time were only accepting YA manuscripts. They’d also previously published the winners of the CALEB prize, so I figured I was in with a chance with them.

I carefully read over the submission guidelines of both publishers. Their requirements were different. Rhiza Press, for example, wanted the first three chapters, and then another chapter from the novel. Both Publishers wanted a full synopsis (and writing that, in itself, is a long and difficult task!). They also both wanted a personal CV related to my writing. It was here that the entries into competitions (not only for The Boy in the Hoodie, but for Dangerous Exchanges as well), and the success I’d had, was very helpful. I had also had numerous short stories published online that I could provide links to. I was also able to mention that I’d done a short course at The Writing Stuido. I also took quotes from my readers, some of the positive words they had written in response to having read the manuscript, and included them in my cover letter. All these things gave reason for the publisher to at least look at what I’d sent in to them.

The publishing houses didn’t promise much. They both said I could expect a three month wait before hearing if they were interested in reading more. Rhiza Press allowed me to submit online. Text Publishing wanted a hard copy. I submitted to both and started to play the waiting game.

But within two weeks I’d heard from Rhiza Press, asking for the rest of the manuscript. I madly finished the rest of the edits I wanted to make before sending in the full manuscript (after all, I thought I had a couple of months to get those final edits done!) and submitted it all. A couple of weeks later, I received an offer of a contract for publication.

I was at school at the time. Normally I don’t carry my mobile phone with me at school, but for some reason I’d grabbed it when I’d gone off to class to see a student. The student wasn’t able to be released from class for a few minutes, so I sat outside the classroom and checked my personal emails while I waited. And there it was - in my Inbox - an offer of contract from Rhiza Press. I rushed to the staff toilets and cried. :) Then I pulled myself together and went back to work. :)

My husband and I spent the weekend looking over the contract. We googled publishing contracts to see what was normal, and what to look out for (pretty novice, hey!), before I signed it and sent it to them.

About a month after all that happened, I got an email from Text Publishing - a lovely rejection letter, saying they’d read The Boy in the Hoodie with interest but would not be pursuing publication at this time. It was amazing for them to have even let me know, and very encouraging to know they’d read my submission.

And so began the next stage of the editing process. I was offered the contract from Rhiza Press at the beginning of the year, and spent most of the year revising and making changes suggested by my editors. Many edits were simply formatting. Other suggestions were fairly major, such as removing a chapter they felt was slowing the story down. It was an amazing learning experience. In many respects it was a difficult year, as I was working four days a week as a teacher, studying a Masters degree, one of my daughters was having major panic attacks and was consequently diagnosed with Social Anxiety, plus my husband has long-term health issues, so I was a little time poor. But I learned so much and as a result I believe I’ll be a better writer for my next novel.

The Boy in the Hoodie was released on November 1st 2017. Fitting, since I had written it in November three years earlier. Three years of editing. Three years my baby. It’s lovely to have it on the shelf and to be able to explore other characters and ideas again. I love the writing stage and am excited to be back in it. And I can’t wait to share my next story idea with the world again. Should I ever get this new one finished.

Thanks for reading. If you’re interested in connecting with Catriona, you can look her up on Facebook, or find out more at her website: catrionamckeown.com.au

On getting published: Pt 1 The Writing

I’ve had a number of people ask my about my journey to getting my novel, The Boy in the Hoodie, published. As much as I am happy to talk about it with people, I thought I’d blog about it. It will help me to remember it Further down the track, too!

My journey to getting published was quite long. When I started on the journey nearly six years ago (though I could go back as far as when my teenage years!) I had no idea what I was in for - or how much I still had to learn about writing. A huge part of my journey was about confidence building. Writing is a lonely business. I didn’t have a network of writers to talk to, to show my writing to, back when I started. The first novel I wrote (which remains unpublished, and for good reason) I had friends read, and with positive results. So I send it to an editor for an appraisal, who promptly told me (in a gentle way) just what a long way I had to go in terms of getting my story structure right, plus a whoooollllleeeee lot of other things. Taking her advice onboard, I rewrote the novel. (This was a 120,000 word novel, so you know, no small task!) I then submitted to the Omega Writer’s CALEB competition, mainly because they promised detailed feedback. When the feedback sheet arrived in my Inbox, I read it with one eye closed (literally). And as I read it, I realised they liked it. It was shortlisted as a finalist, but it didn’t place. And no wonder - the judge’s comment suggested the novel still required 100+ hours of editing. So, Dangerous Exchanges got placed in the proverbial bottom draw where it has remained ever since.

But the experience gave me confidence. Some of the judge’s comments filled me with hope that my writing was good. They loved my characters. They loved my dialogue. They was hope.

At the time, I had started reading a heap of YA novels, which I was loving. My mum had always encouraged me to write for a younger audience. I think she was thinking more like children’s books, but I had this story idea, this character, who wouldn’t leave me alone. Though I started with the character Adrian, Kat’s struggle with Peer Pressure and some nasty so-called friends was not far behind. Together, they formed The Boy in the Hoodie.

I prepared to write The Boy in the Hoodie during the month of November, for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I had a good grasp on my characters and the story line. I learned from my previous mistakes, and the advice given by the manuscript appraiser, Iola Goulton, and heavily planned what would happen at each stage of the novel. KM Weiland’s Structuring Your Novel (which continues to be my go-to writing book for structure) was frequently opened and reread throughout the process. I wrote the first few chapters in the lead up to NaNoWriMo, and then wrote it. I joined up with two writers on the other side of Australia, who read my novel as I wrote it. Their encouragement was invaluable.

And so, the entire book, all 65,000 words, was written in six weeks.

Then I began editing.

As I tell my students, I wrote the novel in six weeks, but I spent three years editing it. Writing the mansciprt is really just the beginning. In many ways, it’s the easy part.

Before I spent too much time editing the manuscript, I was desperate to know if it appealed to teenagers. I’d never written a YA book before. So a couple of months after writing it, I sent the manuscript to a teenager whose mum was in an online writing group I’d connect with - her name is Sarah. Sarah read it for me, and loved it. However, originally Kat and Adrian were much younger, and Sarah suggested they needed to be older, that they read like older teenagers. So began my first serious edit - Kat and Adrian went from being in Grade 6, to being 15 & 16, in High School. That meant changing a lot about things that were happening at school and with Kat’s friends. Sarah’s encouragement that it was a good story, and that she found it difficult to put down, spurred me on.

After that major round of editing, I then gave the manuscript to the parents of teenagers, to gauge their reactions, and to a couple of teenagers at the school I work at, who said they’d read it for me. Everyone continued to give me good feedback. So I persevered.

As happy as I was with the story, and the feedback I was getting from my readers was positive, there was still plenty to work on. Whole chapters were deleted. Minor characters were given more substance as I considered there own backstory and journey. For example, did you pick up that Kat’s mother suffered from Post Natal Depression after George was born? And originally Kat’s little brother George played a much bigger part in the story - and had autism. There needed to be more about Kat’s home-life. Things needed to be made more realistic. I read and reread and reread the manuscript, making notes of what worked, and what didn’t seem to fit.

After two years of editing, I decided to send the manuscript to a US competition, Ink & Insights, that also promised lots of feedback. It only required the first 10,000 words, so it was also a good way of finding out how my story was reading for the first 5 or 6 chapters. The competition gives feedback from four judges (who are editors/publishers/agents in the US), so was a great opportunity for only $40 or so Australian dollars. I received the email with their feedback and once again read it with one eye closed. Until I realised they had all really good things to say about it! The Boy in the Hoodie came fourth that year. Such a confidence boost. I had also entered the manuscript in the Omega Writer’s CALEB competition again. This time, there wasn’t the same feedback, but I was notified that I’d again been short-listed. I laboured and laboured over whether to fly to Sydney for the announcement of the winner. I was so anxious about going, and finances were a little tight, but in the end I prayed and prayed and decided God was saying it wasn’t necessary for me to go. So I opted instead to watch the announcement through a Facebook live recording.

That year, The Boy in the Hoodie won the first prize.

But perhaps the even bigger encouragement cam when my novel came runners up in the overall CALEB prize, where it was up again all the books that had been entered, from all categories, most of which were published books. That gave me the confidence to send the manuscript to some publishers. So that’s what I did.

The journey of going from having written a story, to having one ready to send out to publishers, took a village. Having people read my writing, give feedback, and encourage me in the process - well, I couldn’t have done it without them. But in entering the competitions, I gained the confidence I needed to be able to start thinking I could one day get it published. I needed both - I needed the readers to tell me they liked it, and I needed the professional writers to tell me I was on the right track. If you’re interested in pursuing publication, I encourage you to do the same thing. There are other really important reasons to getting others reading your writing. I’ll tell you about them in my blog next week, when I’ll run through getting the manuscript in front of publishers and the process I went through to then get it published. But really, it’s all part of the one big long story, which is why I wanted to tell you about the writing part first. Getting a manuscript in front of a publisher is like the top of the iceberg sticking out of the water. Most of the iceberg is under the water.

My last post for 2017

Well, I don't know about you guys, but when I think back on the year of 2017, I whisper a quiet little 'wow'. It's been a crazy ride, from having a publisher express interest in my novel, and then offer me a contract, way back in January, to the extensive learning curve of editing, looking at book covers, getting my first box of The Boy in the Hoodie on my doorstep, book launches and signings, and of course trying to get the word out so people will consider keeping a copy of my novel on their bookshelves.

This year, the Christmas break is much anticipated in my household.

(Thanks for the Christmas spirit, http://www.interiordesigninspiration.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Christmas-Decorations-016.jpg)

Christmas, for me, means school holidays, the sadness of saying goodbye to good friends moving on, and taking the time to reflect with gratitude on the year that has been.

I know that's not the case for everyone. Christmas isn't always a time of celebration. Sometimes, it brings back painful memories of loss; thoughts of what never was; or the hurt of broken dreams for the way things were meant to be.

Sometimes, it takes effort to find the great in what you can be grateful for.

Sometimes, it takes effort to step out, to take a risk, and to go and find what it is that you're missing - to try to make it happen.

But if there is one thing I have learned in all I have been through in life, is that sometimes you have to tuck that anxiety down into a little box in the pit of your stomach and step out anyway. Being a good actress helps. Having a safe place to land is essential.

As you look forward into 2018, I pray you will find the strength to step out and move toward grasping what you want most in life.

And don't forget, if you're still thinking of Christmas presents for the young adult/teenager in your world, you could always gift them The Boy in the Hoodie, :), available in all good bookstores now.

May you find the merry in merry Christmas <3

See you all in a couple of weeks!

Photo: I was going to spend Christmas with these awesome guys, my parents, this year. However, circumstances have changed and we don’t get to now. Instead, we’ll spend Christmas with the other kind of family we have - the family we’ve chosen for ourselves, in our amazing friends. I'm really looking forward to hanging out with these friends who we love dearly. I have no idea who took this photo of me with my parents, someone from my family no doubt since we were celebrating Mum and Dad’s 50th wedding anniversary at the time. :) Big celebrations deserve the overlooking of photo-rights, don't you think?

You can connect with Catriona through social media here

On the time I lost my friends at High School

Okay, so I said I'd tell you. This won't be easy. Or pretty. But if you've read The Boy in the Hoodie, you'll see where I got the idea for what went down between Kat and Paige in Chapter 8.

I had issues as a teenager, so let's just get that out of the way first. I had terribly low self-esteem and desperately wanted everyone to like me. Clearly, I also had no idea how to go about this. I was soapy-obsessed (Neighbours, Home and Away, and I read this series of books called Sweet Valley High - if you know the series there's no need to say anything more) and I think this was where I learned how you get and treat your friends. You can see this is headed for disaster, now, can't you.

(Photo: This is me on my first day of High School-Year 7. You can now wake up every morning with a sense of gratitude that, for all that may suck about your life, at least you didn't grow up in an age when it was cool to wear socks with sandals.)

Back then, I loved to write and one way I expressed that love was through having multiple "pen pals". I wrote to other teenagers all over the world; yes, with pen and paper, with stamps that needed to be purchased from the Post Office with a little blue AIRMAIL sticker running up the side. In writing these letters to strangers, I could be whoever I told them I was. I could be engaging and funny. And they liked me. Even people who I met on summer holidays would prefer to write to me, than hang out with me while our families holidayed together. In fact, one of my pen pals called me on the phone one Sunday afternoon and I didn't know how to talk to her. She stopped writing to me after that. On paper, I was good at making and keeping friends.

Which was probably why I was so shocked when one of my pen pals wrote to me saying she was writing to too many people and so was cutting back. I was on the exit list. I suppose it's yesteryear's equivalent of being de-friended on Facebook during a cull.

Well, it just so happened that I told my school friends about it, and Ella, our group's 'leader' came over so we could respond to the letter together. And we did; we wrote the letter together. We were nasty. We were rude. We were accusatory. It was full of terrible swear words and described in very unpleasant terms the type of person we thought she was.

To this day, I have no idea why we even wrote it. It was completely unnecessary. She was a lovely girl. And it was really lovely of her to even write to let me know she wouldn't be able to keep corresponding with me.

I have even less of an idea of what on earth I was thinking in posting it to her.

It was a couple of weeks later that my father confronted me in our family's kitchen, holding a photocopy of my letter and a note from the poor girl's parents saying that if there was any further communication from me that they would be involving their lawyer. My parents were horrified. They had barely heard me swear before, let alone knew I was capable of writing such a horrific letter to another human being.

They banned me from having anything more to do with Ella.

When I told Ella what had happened, she couldn't believe I'd posted the letter. She was smarter than me. Much, much smarter.

It was sometime later that Ella asked me if I wanted to go down the street with her, and without even thinking I told her what my parents had said. And that I wouldn't be allowed to go if she was going.

That was the last time I spoke to Ella, or her to me, for a very long time. Our friendship never recovered. And of course, she took all my other friends with her. I was in Year 7 at the time. I didn't socially begin to recover until about Year 10.

I sincerely hope no one else has such a tragic story to tell about losing their friends. But if you do, let me know in the comments and we can sob over it together ... through our keyboards, of course.

Photo: this is me and one of my besties (my daughter tells me only twelvies say besties, and I'm not allowed to use the word) best friends, Jax. This photo warms my heart. Best friends are awesome.

Thanks for dropping by. You can connect with Catriona through social media here

On my little secret. Shhh, don't tell anyone ...

Okay, so it's time you knew the truth about me. Here it is, I'm going to tell you. I'm just going to spit it out and let the world know what all my primary teachers, and my high school teachers, and my classes in those first few years of teaching down in Victoria knew. It's my literacy-fault. My Achilles' heel. The thorn in my side. It is an undeniable truth:

I am a hopeless speller :'( :'( :'(

Yes, it is true. All other aspects of the English language I have a pretty good grasp on. I've almost been considered a Grammar Nazi before. I can write essays in my sleep. I've been to Uni and have a degree in History and Politics, with a sub-major in English. I also have a post-graduate degree and am halfway through a Masters degree. And of course, I can now add that I am a published author to that mix.

And yet, I cannot spell.

You think I'm exaggerating?

The other day, for my day (paid) job, I was sitting at my desk watching a Dyslexia Daily video, and I learned for the first time how to spell the word Attendance. Before watching this video, I could never remember if it was spelt 'attendence' or 'attendance'. I have had to write the word numerous times since, and I have been able to spell it correctly every time (after I've reminded myself that I want to attend the dance). Here's the video, if it's a word you've always struggled with, too:

The video, and learning to spell a word correctly, is hardly rocket science. But it's really nice to now have engrained in my mind how to spell attendance correctly. Every time I realise I consistently spell a word wrong, and I make myself learn how to spell it correctly, I quietly congratulate myself.

As I write, I whisper to myself my little stories on how to spell words I've stumbled with in the past: The principal is my pal... two cats wear just one sock occasionally.

My 'watching the video' story is less embarrassing than the story I'm about to tell you, of how I learned to spell the word 'sentence' when I was, like, 23 years old. Oh, don't laugh! I TOLD you I can't spell. Here is how I learned to spell the word sentence:

It was my first year of teaching and I had a Year 7 class. For those of you not in Australia, that means the class was full of around 27 fresh and bright-eyed 12-year-olds. I cannot remember the context, but for some reason I wrote the word 'sentance' on the board. Immediately sweet little Lauren put her hand up. "Mrs McKeown," she said, with the innocence of a lamb. 'You've spelt sentence wrong.'

I looked at the board, to where I'd written the word. 'No I haven't, I said.

'Yes, you have,' she said, a little more forcefully. 'There is no 'a' in sentence.'

I laughed a little, trying to maintain composure and not lose the respect of the other 26 students in my English class. 'I'm pretty sure I'm right, Lauren.'

I went on my way, teaching the class. Suddenly, beside me with an open dictionary (it was 1996 and the Internet had barely been invented yet) stood Lauren. She held the Dictionary up to me and pointed at the word 'sentence'.

And that is how I learned to spell the word sentence.

You can see how it is better to learn how to spell words through quirky little videos, rather than through such real-life experiences. But, after that first year of teaching, I made the decision that I would no longer try to hide my inability to spell. Instead, for all my classes, I would make an announcement at the beginning of each year. I would boldly tell my students:

There are two things you need to know about me: One is I cannot spell. The other is I'm hopeless at Math. Fortunately I'm not your Math teacher, but I am your English teacher, but I'm living proof that not being able to spell doesn't have to stop you from being able to do English. Let me know when I spell something wrong; this year, we will all be learning something together.

I still will often say that, though I am a much better speller now that I was back then. I'll still pause and ask a student how to spell a word before I write it on the board. I have continued to learn. I have better learned how I learn to spell. And having a computer is amazing - that little red line (and the add-on Grammarly) make my life easier. I often say that I was born to live in the era of word processors and computers. Needing to spell is not what it used to be. And I seriously thank God for that.

NB: In the writing of this blog, I misspelt Achilles, embarrassing and exaggerating. But I fixed them up. :)

Photo: I hide my face as I make this admission. It is embarrassing for me; it always has been. But I haven't let it stop me. And it HASN'T stopped me yet.

If you'd like to connect with Catriona via social media, you can do so here

On talking about PP

PP - it needs to be in code. It's that Peer thingy. You know, the things that totally sucks but we've all experienced at some point. I mean, seriously, show me a teenager with at least one friend and I'll show you someone who has experienced Peer Pressure. Even as adults, it doesn't go away. It can be easier to stand up it, maybe, but despicably it can continue all through life.

(Doesn't this photo send chivers down your spine? The feeling of peer pressure, of feeling like you can't live up to their standards, or maybe that their values don't align with your own ... urgh ... thanks for the chills, https://thumbs.dreamstime.com/z/unhappy-girl-being-gossiped-school-friends-teenage-76512212.jpg)

In The Boy in the Hoodie, the opening chapters are all about PP and how difficult it can be to stand up to it. The thought of losing your friends, or being seen as someone different, or someone afraid to go along with everyone else, can be worse than the thought of failing a subject. Or landing in detention.

In The Boy in the Hoodie, one of Kat's friends has a nickname for her: Mary. Paige calls Kat "Mary" when she suggests they shouldn't do something, or that something might be unsafe - you know, when she puts voice to the little alarm that goes off when something doesn't feel right. Once again, Kat finds herself having to choose between her friends and doing the wrong thing, or standing alone:

The bottle was pretty much empty by the time it got to me. Only one mouthful left, at best. I toyed with the bottle for a moment, looking at it, rolling it in the palms of my hands. Three sets of eyes watched me. I could see the word forming on Paige's lips: Mary. Her narrowed eyes were telling me to hurry up and drink it. I stared down at the bottle. The first sip, I hadn't known what I was doing. This time, I'd be knowingly drinking alcohol at school.

PP is something we don't always take seriously enough in our teenager's lives. It can be really tough to make the right choice, and to know what the consequences might be. As the choices Kat has to make get more complicated, the less she feels she is able to talk to anyone about them:

Dad shook his head. 'Why are you doing this, Kat? There are going to be some really big consequences for this. If you are covering for Pai-... for any of your friends, you need to say so now. We've always told you to tell the truth, no matter what the consequences might be. You don't always know what is going to happen to the others involved. Telling the truth is always the best option.'

I lowered my head and stifled a sob. 'I can't, Dad.'

'So you're going to stand by everything you have just said to Mr Dean? To me, just now?'

I nodded.

Dad stood up and walked over to Mum. Her face was cold and unresponsive. I was crying so much that my snot and my tears were mixing into one steady stream of wetness that now covered most of my face. No sleeve was long enough for this level of sadness.

The results are that Kat gets herself into situations that she doesn't know how to handle. It's important teenagers have significant people, other adults, in their lives who they can turn to when they can't look to their parents anymore. It can be difficult as parents to parent and keep the relationship at a level where teens feel they can still ask for advice. You need to make room in your teenager's life for other options for them.

If you want to find out more about how Kat deals with the PP she experiences, and the journey it launches her onto, you can buy The Boy in the Hoodie at all good bookstores, ask for it at your local library, or buy it online at places like Booktopia :)

If you want to connect with Catriona via social media, you can do so here

And finally, I think this photo was taken by my friend, Paige, while we were on a YA trip to NZ. She's the babe in the white tee. All credit to you, gorgeous!

You can connect with Catriona through social media here