Hello hello. Welcome to another “Notes from Deanna’s Desk.” Let’s just stick with the notes, okay? My actual desk is very messy since it’s a working desk which includes my computer (obviously), two jars of lollies, an oil diffuser, pens, hairbrush, nail polish remover, lip balm, a protein bar (I don’t know how that got there)… but you get the picture. Not tidy.
It occurred to me that I include a lot of partial life updates in my notes on Substack because life impacts work, and boy, has life impacted work for the last three months. That’s still ongoing, but it’s improving. Thank frack!
Before I start, a small apology
It’s been three months since my last set of notes. Oof!
I think I’ve mentioned a few times that life was lifing at me HARD with Hubby’s medical and health shenanigans, so I won’t go back to that and bore everyone with it. Fortunately, things are on the improve and he’s doing well. Unfortunately for him, he’s crazy impatient and gets annoyed cos he’s not getting back to normal as quickly as he would like. Let’s face it, it’s been about three months and he’s back to the gym once or twice a week which is a huge improvement given he almost lost his leg and was hospitalised for eight days from post-operative pneumonia. Fun times…
I did send out a short newsletter to the ARC team to give them an update. At the bare minimum, I owed the team that much since I’ve been silent for so long and am behind on sending out ARCs. That said, the ARC world continues to spin without me if the ARC group I admin with a few others is any indication.
Also, OMG! It’s September!!!
Anyway, onwards—
The best way to stay in touch with me, plus bonus rambling
I usually go backwards from the day I start prepping the post, but since it’s been three whole months (lordy!) and it’s Father’s Day just past, I’ve decided to share a short summary of the notes I’ve written about my parents’ influence on me as I was growing up and how they affected my reading and writing choices.
Fair warning, it’s a bit sentimental and family-heavy. If that’s not your jam, skip this one. Hang tight for the next set of notes (#5), they will have a different focus and more back to normal programming.
Going backwards from the most recent because sometimes I roll forwards, sometimes I roll backwards. Depends on my mood.
Hang tight…
6 September 2026
When I woke up on Sunday morning, I thought of this funny story to share since it was Father’s Day and I had the daddy-o on my mind. The various members of the fam had hopped into the family group chat and started wishing him a Happy Father’s Day. The brother was the first one in. Go him!
Now you need to know this about my daddy-o: he’s kind of a lot. And he’s also an acquired taste. Like durian or blue cheese. You either love him or you want to bonk him on the head with a blunt object. I am both. Mumsy always says we clash like oil and water because we are so alike. I hear “you are your father’s daughter” a lot coming from mumsy.
Since today is Father’s Day here in Oz, I have a book-related story for you featuring my daddy-o. Fair warning, it’s probably not the most flattering one, but it’s one I’ve never forgotten and it fundamentally changed how I view lending books I love to other people.
Close to two-ish decades ago, I discovered Vince Flynn’s Mitch Rapp series. I got Hubby hooked on it and since both mumsy and daddy-o are big readers, I knew they would enjoy it too.
Daddy-o was already hooked on Tom Clancy by then, I think. He was also the one who got me into reading Sidney Sheldon and Jeffrey Archer in my early teens. Probably not the most appropriate reading material for a 14yo, but I digress.
Anyhoo, I ended up lending my entire collection of Vince Flynn books to him. That was about seven or eight books at the time.
So daddy-o loved the books. Then he, unbeknownst to me, went and gave all the books to a friend of his to read and I never saw the books again. They were gone forever. And I only found out much later when I asked for the books back.
In the years since, whenever we went to the US to visit Hubby’s parents, we’d time the trip to a Vince Flynn book release. We’d attend the launch day talk which is usually at the first Barnes and Noble that agreed to carry his books, and we would always get daddy-o his own signed copy of the book.
The parents have gone digital and read on their phones now. I think my sister got them a Kindle device at one point, but it never took.
Recently, mumsy while away on a cruise packed one paperback book with her and read it while on holiday. She said it’d been so long since she read a print book that it took her a while to get used to the feel of it in her hands again.
But I did learn a few things that day:
- Depending on the person, you’re more likely than not never to see what you lent to them again. So now I never lend anything to anyone if I can help it. We still have a set of DVDs of a jazz collection which Hubby, against my protestations, lent to someone. It’s been almost a decade. It was never returned and we don’t even know how to get in touch with that person anymore. So sayonara forever to that giant jazz collection.
- When it comes to books, I never never never lend books to anyone anymore. Never. I would rather buy them the book than lend them my copy.
- Since everything I read is digital these days, I can’t actually lend them my books. I haven’t read many physical books for decades. And if they do express an interest in a book I’m reading and they are not one of my reading buddies who have their own Kindle Unlimited or audiobook subscription, then I’d rather gift them the book in some way.
I know that might make me sound like a horrible, selfish, and not very generous or nice person, but my books are precious to me. I’m not attached to very many things, but I am attached to the special copies of my books that are irreplaceable. Esp the few copies I have left on my shelves since I’ve really only kept childhood treasures and books I’ve worked on that were gifted by my author clients. And since these books are precious, I don’t lend them out. Not anymore.
So lender beware, and if you ever lose a book via lending it to someone, I’ll send kittens and chocolate. And maybe some kind of book-debt collector. Is there such a thing?
To all the fathers celebrating, Happy Father’s Day.
PS. If you have similar reading tastes to daddy-o, other authors he loves include Brad Thor, Daniel Silva, Ward Larsen, Mark Greaney, David Baldacci, Mark Dawson, Barry Eisler, Jack Carr, and a bunch I’m certain I’ve forgotten.
PPS. Daddy-o, if you’re reading this, check out Ken Fite’s Blake Jordan series and Craig Martelle’s Ian Bragg series.
3 September 2026
I saw a note by The Raven Scholar which was accompanied by a picture of a potato. I like potatoes, but alas, potatoes don’t like me back—it’s the resistant starch. But hey, it’s food and I like food. She was talking about technical literacy and other nonsense going on in the writing and publishing world right now and I liked what she said, so I restacked it with this little gem about daddy-o. Do read her note, it’s quite insightful.
If my 79yo dad can rebuild his own PC to update his OS, you can learn basic technical skills and learn not to be afraid of technology as more and more of it becomes an invisible but core part of our lives.
PS. I like potatoes, but potatoes don’t like me back since I’m starch resistant. Maybe there’s some ironic synchronicity in that.
PPS. I need more cute kittens in my feed. Send kittens.
31 August 2026
A life lesson from daddy-o. One which led him to ask me for something on Father’s Day and the exchange went something like this:
Daddy-o: Do you want to give me a Father's Day present? I noticed that you no longer have the clay shoes up front on our last trip. If you have no use for it I would like to have it as a Father's present to plant a succulents. Adhering to my maxim of asking.
Me: Ah no, the clay shoes were just moved when we refinished the deck. They need to go back on. And yes, you can ask, and as you say, I can say no. Happy Father’s Day, but I got you something else for Father’s Day. I am very attached to those shoes.
Then I get a separate message from mumsy: 🤣😁🤣 Hheheee.. I knew those clay boots were not leaving your house. To which I responded with the laugh-cry emoji.
Y’all daddy-o has been asking about those shoes for YEARS. And no, he cannot have them.
It was “always ask, the worst they can do is say no. You’ll be no worse off than you started.”
Of course, my dad is about as conservative an old Chinaman as you can get, so he was referring to haggling, bargaining, and negotiating usually for a discount or a freebie. Regardless, the advice applies to all aspects of life and it’s built an inherent curiosity towards all things in me.
And in today’s world, with all the technology and all the information at our fingertips, this advice applies even more than ever.
Ask.
Or if you’re a writer or author, ask questions in the name of research. If you need to know anything on just about any topic you want to learn about, ask and learn things. It will make you a better writer.
I’ve had many people approach me and say, “may I ask you a question?”
My answer is always yes. I may choose to answer, or I may not. But you may always ask. (I rarely say no to answering.)
So I’ll repeat…
Ask and learn things. Always, always ask.
A small PS.: I mentioned what I was writing during team sprints today and
I read out the part about comparing daddy-o to either durian or blue
cheese. One of the team suggested I compare him to something less stinky
like olives or anchovies because a lot of people don’t like those either.
But don’t like is different from an acquired taste,
right? And for the record, daddy-o is NOT stinky.
26 July 2026
And finally, an interview which made me think of my mumsy and how much I still need to talk to her. We have the best time when we chat and I love that we’ve transitioned from mother and daughter to friends too.
I know that not everyone is so fortunate to have as wonderful a mother as I, but let me say that it was not always like this. Our relationship had its fraught moments and there were times when things were downright uncomfortable between us. But as we’ve gotten older—both me and mumsy—I believe we’ve both worked hard at building a relationship that is healthy, joyful, and it works.
Also, mumsy is a complete kook, so we have the best laughs. There’s nothing like laughing till you have tears running down your face and your sides hurt. Mumsy and I are like that with some of the silliness we chat about.
I'm a huge fan of the Obamas and recently watched an interview of them on the People Magazine YouTube channel. I'm going to be honest and say celebrities are not my thing and usually one can hit me on the head and I wouldn't know, but I have great admiration for the Obamas, what they stand for, what they continue to work for, and hope to accomplish. And isn't Michelle Obama just amazing??
So YouTube decided to feed me an interview with Rosie O'Donnell. Oof! There are MANY things I did not know about her. It was interesting to learn some of it. But what struck me was what she said about motherhood and it made me think of my mother. My mad, looney, wonderful mother, who recently made me a "whinge pouch" because my parents travel a lot and I was lamenting the fact that "what would I do if you're not here for me to call to have a whinge?" Hence the whinge pouch, and I get to put a little note into it or text my mum and say there's a whinge in the whinge pouch.
And what Rosie O'Donnell said is true. You can be any age, and your kids can be any age, and they still need their mum. I realise I am very fortunate to have that with mine and consider myself very blessed because there are all sorts of different family dynamics in this world we live in.
So here's Rosie O'Donnell about her adult children, and mummy, this one's for you. I love you.
My 23-year-old daughter will call me crying because something happened with her friend, or my son will call to tell me how depressed he is that the American dream is dead and give me his philosophy of life. People sometimes say, 'That's so great of you that you adopted. You saved those kids.' I say, 'No, those kids saved me.' It was like each child was a floatation device keeping me afloat through my love for them and my desire to give them a nice, beautiful, loving family that said, 'I love you'—something that was never said in my house growing up.
Now, whenever I see my kids and I'm leaving, I say, 'I love you,' and they go, 'Oh, I know, Mom.' Every time I hang up the phone, I say, 'You know I love you,' and they reply, 'Yeah, Mom, you've told us.' My children are the most important thing to me. When you go to my house, you don't see any awards displayed anywhere. If your mom steals the spotlight all the time just by being famous, that's hard on a kid. I don't want my accomplishments to overshadow them in any way. I try to hold them in the highest esteem and prioritize them, as I always have.
It really healed so many of my maternal wounds. Hearing your child call you 'Mama' for the first time, and now watching my 26-year-old son hold his baby, is the most indescribable joy I've ever experienced. I want to be here for all of it. I'm constantly stunned by the fact that children need their parents throughout their whole lives. When you were robbed of that, you don't know it. I love seeing that my kids still need me.
My son told me, 'Mommy, I want you to move back. I want you to be around my baby. I want you to be around us.' That really hit home. The joy I feel being around him and this newborn—I don't have the words for it. I get so much fulfillment watching him parent this child that he adores, who adores him right back. It's an amazing feeling, and something I never anticipated."
~ Rosie O'Donnell, People interview 22 July 2026
5 September 2026
And because I can’t help myself, I’m going to jump forward in time again to this latest note, featuring a conversation I had with an author who’s on our weekly sprint-writing team.
Here are a few insights that I thought are worth sharing:
- She’s used to writing in a linear fashion, now she’s not. But her last book, written almost entirely during sprints and dedicated to the sprint team, proves it doesn’t matter. She still produced a good book even when she thought it was a hot mess and called it a hot mess. It was not.
- She was hoping that when things settle down, she can go back to writing the way she used to. Maybe, maybe not. Who knows how long it will take. Hubby’s knee surgeries and subsequent complications have taken a giant chunk out of our lives. Five months out and things are only just starting to settle down. Sort of…
- We are all people getting to a certain age. You young twenty- and thirty-somethings might not quite relate now, but listen up. It happens to all of us. And here’s the thing, as we grow, age, change, we need to adjust to different normals and life is a series of new normals. If you accept them, life will go a little smoother for you.
- I get frustrated too. Frequently. But I’m learning to step away from the frustration and calm the eff down. At 55, it takes a heck of a lot longer for me to recover from pulling an all-nighter to meet a deadline than it used to.
- And finally, give yourself grace when this sort of thing happens because it’s not a matter of if but when. And when it happens, how we respond, accept, and then roll with it all will show the measure of us as people, whether it’s only to ourselves or to the broader world.
I always say this and it is true every single time…
Be kind to yourself. I’ll send kittens and chocolate.
PS. Today is my half day off and tomorrow is my full day off. Let’s see how I manage it, but it’s allowed me to hop on here for a bit.
PPS. At some point, the organizing and piecemeal spring clean I’ve been doing around the bedroom will need to be tackled—aka the giant pile of shoes that got pulled off the shelves and have now been lying on my bedroom floor for almost a week. Maybe that’s tomorrow’s job.
And if you must know, I’m writing this on 8 September, and those shoes are
still on the bedroom floor, so maybe this weekend. Maybe…
I’m going to leave you this time with this one small thing. Hubby and I are going to give line dancing a shot, what with him having new knees and me needing to move more. A friend of ours has recently gotten into it and she’s loving it. Wish my very unco butt luck because I’m certain I will suck at it for a good while. And if you wish to, leave me encouraging words in the comments or just tell me to keep going and not be a wuss.
Send dancing fairies.
xoxo, Deanna.
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