What started me off was this article by the author Alexandra Adornetto – Why Teenage Boys Suck More Than Vampires – in which she argues that Edward Cullen is the ideal man because real-life, fangless teenage boys are so “dumb, vain and confused”. The only saving grace (as I’m finding is generally the case when The Age prints a horribly one-sided, mean article) were the comments afterwards, standing up for non-cookie-cutter boys. There was also this very good, creative response from author Lili Wilkinson, and another very good riposte by author William Kostakis.

But I had to admit to myself that, when I was a teenage girl, I considered most of the boys I knew to be…well, not dumb, not vain, or confused, but pretty rubbish. I couldn’t understand why they were never on the same page as me – they were more interested in hanging out with their mates, or talking about sport or music, than gazing adoringly into my eyes. What was wrong with them?? This, I thought, was a sign of their total lack of maturity. I wanted to date Johnny Castle from Dirty Dancing. I’m sorry to say that the only difference between my teenage self and Alexandra Adornetto is that she got a column in a national newspaper. Looking back, I wish I’d been more like the teenage boys I considered so immature. I wish I’d seen that my girlfriends were more fun to hang out with, or that interests would last far longer than my latest crush.

Ah, hindsight.

The theme of the week continued when my son’s kinder announced a Footie Day. They wanted to know which team we’d be representing. Football is huge in Melbourne. If you don’t have a team, you’re eyed with suspicion. We don’t have a team. We have not given my son the tools he’ll need to be a cookie-cutter Melbourne sports fan. I found myself thinking: should we? Will he turn round to us in a few years and curse us? Will he get left out at school? Will he give two hoots? It’s so hard to tell when they’re young – you want to let them become their own person, make their own choices, but you’re the biggest influence on their lives. Take last weekend – my son suddenly piped out of nowhere about our friend’s baby, who is breastfed: “Why does she drink from her mum?” I told him that’s where the baby’s milk was and that it was really good for her. Half an hour later we were on the train and I noticed he was holding his new plastic lizard up to his breast. He smiled up at me: “Lizard’s having milk.” It was kind of beautiful and enlightened, the lizard part being the only slightly weird factor.

There was one more event that fit with the theme. He awoke from a rare afternoon nap, sighed deeply and said gravely: “Mum… I think I’m going to try salad.” I thought to myself: Son, you are a wonderfully unique boy who breastfeeds his lizards, can’t play football and wants to try salad. Good luck out there. (I’m right behind you.)

Today was my ‘create the perfect photo to replace the generic berries’ day. I had visions of books hanging from autumnal trees, against a perfect May-in-Melbourne sky. I’m not quite sure what I thought that would say about me, other than “I like trees, Autumn is my favourite season, I write books.” But it was a start.

Unfortunately the weather and my chronic photography skills conspired against me, as did my kitten who kept running underneath the house (so excited to be let outside – he’s not quite old enough for longer stints), forcing me to pull away from cracking shots to call “Harry! Harry!” in my crazy-cat-lady voice. It’s very high-pitched and a little bit creepy, that voice.

Also, the books kept falling out of the trees. That’s why they ended up in the strawberry plant. Here’s a sample shot – but will it make it onto the homepage for good? Nail-biting stuff. What I wanted the photo to say was: I am quite organic and arty and profound. The truth is: The bloody books wouldn’t stay in the trees so I stuck them in a strawberry plant…that my dad grew for me, and which has been half-eaten by possums, leading me to get possum poo on my ugg boots while I was performing this haughty-cultural act.

If you follow me on Twitter or we’re Facebook friends (or maybe one of those rare and magical real-life friend thingummies – yes, you at the back there in the trenchcoat and dark glasses), you’ll have heard me banging on about how strange it has been to have my book and I in different hemispheres. It may be a relief for you to know that there will be no more of that. Girl, Aloud and I are now in the same neighbourhood.

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I celebrated this fact on 29th April at wonderful Readings in Hawthorn, where all it took to shift a few books was the promise of pink cupcakes, wine, and the opportunity to watch me squirm at a microphone. If I find my tear-drenched speech notes I might transcribe them here at some point. Or make a youtube clip. Or I might just forget to do that and watch Glee instead.

You never know how a launch is going to turn out (says she who has only had one launch). The weeks beforehand were pretty hellish…for my partner. Every night I’d lie awake, wondering out loud (shaking him violently to make sure he was listening) why on earth I’d thought it’d be a good idea to organise an event that involves public speaking. I loathe public speaking. The nerves became laughable on the actual day. If you’ve ever given birth or been on a long-haul flight – two of the scariest undertakings known to humankind – you’ll understand me when I confide that the nerves had a kind of colonic irrigation effect. I walked to Readings 3kg lighter.

But like most things I spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about, it turned out fine. After all – as a friend reminded me – the people there wanted me to do well…most of them, anyway, and those who actively wished I’d fall over or vomit on my shoes hid their disappointment valiantly. Best of all, Girl, Aloud is on the Readings bestseller charts for teen books (April). After two years in Oz, I think I’ve earned the right to say: I’m stoked.

(My daughter was very confused about the competition – she thought you were all coming over to our house to take part in some kind of challenge – but she was happy to decorate the competition receptacle and close her eyes to select…..*drumroll*

Suzana from Bookalicious! Send me an email (em@emilygale.co.uk) with your details and I’ll post your copy on Monday.

Thanks to all who entered.

Emily Gale deals with some very difficult and complex topics with a sparkling mix of wit, humour, and intelligence. The characters have real depth, and while the story themes may not be new, their telling is original, and the story is moving and hilarious in just the right quantities. read more here if you like…