In case you have blindly stumbled onto this post without knowing the history – I am writing a book called The Warder’s Cottage. It is set in Victorian Fremantle and the 1980s and I draw from my childhood growing up in the cottages and Fremantle markets.
Today I watched a really sweet show with my daughter. Molly and Mack. I’d heard it being advertised on Channel 22 for a few weeks, but hadn’t paid much attention. I probably should have.
Molly – an inquisitive girl who is growing up in a market in an historical old Scottish building with her brother Mack who runs a toy stall in the markets. A delightful tale of market life with a little market girl sharing her market world surrounded by lots of jolly market folk portraying an indoor fecking market.
Are. You. Fcking. Kidding. Me?
I swear I smashed a large mirror, under a ladder holding a cursed basket full of black cats in a past life. What is going on? Is the universe determined to take me down? Am I not supposed to tell my story?
Or should I look at it from a less deranged, pessimistic perspective? Could it be a little blessing that there is a modern day twist with a Molly from this era that kids could relate to… even though my story is for adults… and she is blonde… and Scottish.
Maybe I’m supposed to turn it into a YA ficiton? Balls to that though. No offence. I love reading and watching that stuff but I’m not quite ready to put more filters on things.
I think it’s just the well deserved boot up the arse I need to fuff less and get So You Are…Pregnant! out there so I can finish Warders and share my own Molly and my own version of market life with the world… or the 3 people who will actually read the book.
At least I’ve got proof I didn’t nick the idea.
My Molly stays. She will prevail and tell her Fremantle Markets story!