Storytime

I'm sure I've mentioned the fact that I live in a log cabin on an acre of lush greenery up in the Dandenong Ranges. The lawn slopes softly, paths meander around well tended garden beds. We wake to the gentle call of birdsong and a gentle breeze. Well that's the idea, the concept I aim for. Not the continual battle with weeds and grass (so NOT a lawn) and I WISH our lawn sloped gently. It would make mowing so much easier. I love the unreliable narrator. Writers ( think Edgar Allan Poe - The Tell Tale Heart ) who tell a tale from the POV of a narrator that we, the reader, come to doubt. At the beginning we are taken along for the ride, we believe what we are being told, we have no choice. Then we realise that things are all not what they appear to be. Agatha Christie did it with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (to shouts of UNFAIR), she then did it again with Endless Night (one of my personal favourites- thanks Mum) And I must admit one of my all time favourite m...

Knock Knock. Who's there? Boo. Boo who? There there don't cry. Humour...it's one of those genres that scare a majority of writers. Some people can write it so well (Timothy Train and his blog comes to mind...always makes me chuckle). Tim makes it appear effortless. Almost a stream of subconscious...that happens to be very ludicrous and funny. Then there are those writers that THINK they can write humour when in reality the end product makes you cringe and try to avoid eye contact with them. And of course, you have the writers that aren't even game to give it a go. In case they make a total ass of themselves (yes ass not arse) Writing humour is difficult. Not only do you have to be funny (and appeal to the majority) but when you read a humorous poem, anecdote or short story, the timing has to be exact. No one wants to wait....and wait....and wait for the punchline. Especially if you can see it coming. I can't do humour. I try, must admit that, I do giv...

Deciding what to read at a venue that offers open mic...is a minefield. Is it a case of shutting your eyes and choosing the first few poems that you point at? I feel comfortable enough at a few venues ( Word Tree ...and Poetry in the Hut ) that I bravely venture with new work. Test the water (cliche I know) so to speak. Difficult to let new work fly....often I'm editing minutes before I get on stage ....often I'm editing as I read. And there are regulars that will tell me what they 'really' think- will offer up 'that was too long...you repeated yourself in the last stanza....or even...you had them.' But what to read at a venue that you have only visited a few times? How do you know what sort of audience you will have? Plan A is to always bring more poems than you intend to read. There is nothing worse than knowing you have time to read 3 poems, bring 3 poems then notice that the audience is not getting into any of them. Honestly, those are the times whe...

I worked last Sunday, which happened to be father's day. It was interesting...I wondered if there would be anyone at all coming into the library. And it wasn't busy, only a few hundred people came through in those hours we were open, but it is so great to see how many fathers are coming in to the library with their children. More fathers are also coming with their children to activities such as Tinies Time, Storytime and school holiday programs. I love to see anyone sitting with a child and helping them choose a book, and on father's day it was great to see so many dad's getting involved. Working in a library I'm passionate about books. No apologies, that's the way it is. Combine that with working with children and you have a woman doubly passionate about children discovering the wonders of books and eventually reading. I could go and on about the benefits of reading out loud to your baby, about showing your toddler the way to hold a book, about spending t...

The end of August- the end of winter....the year is racing ahead and I'm left wondering what on earth have I done? This past month went too fast. And for most of it I was on holiday. It was such a good time. No planning, no preparation, no meetings or work clothes, no deadlines or HAVE TO BE HERE AT SUCH AND SUCH A TIME. It was relaxing and enjoyable. It was refreshing and recharging. I had thought I wouldn't write...but inspired by new sights, new experiences, new landscapes...the words flowed. I came home with the beginnings of a short story (that I have already worked on) and five poems...some of them based on the sights and sounds...some of them based on the characters we met...like the three taxi drivers (each with a dream), the woman coming to visit her grandchildren, tears streaming down her face at the airport...or even the Banksia Nut. Or George- in one of his many guises. And images are still whirling in my thoughts. I had hoped to put most of them...

I must admit I tend to give up too easily. I'll send a story or poem out once, have it come back rejected and perhaps I'll send it out again but I'm sure I have so many that I've only sent out once. Perhaps twice. Three times at the most. A children's novel that I wrote a few years ago, sent that out, a publisher asked to see all of it and held on to it for nearly a year before I got the 'sorry not for us at this time' ...have I sent it out again? Once. And I do like this story, and friends tell me it's good. That it's worth sending out again. So what's stopping me? This is a tree outside the small town of Greenough WA. The southerly winds are so strong in this area that the trees grow horizontal. They don't give up, they struggle on and find their own way. The next photo shows trees growing in the Nambung National Park, where the pinnacles are. These trees are growing straight out of sand, struggling to survive amongst the limesto...

Must admit I'm a bit of a wuss/ woos, however you spell it. Won't scuba dive or snorkel (scared of deep water and being unable to swim properly, stops that) but most other things I, hopefully, will have a go. Given no time to back out of it or reconsider. Or in this case read the warning sign. There is a tree near Pemberton, WA, called the Gloucester tree. 62 metres high Karri tree- with metal spikes forming a ladder of types, that if you wish you can climb ...to the top. This of course was on Steve's TO DO list...it never made mine. Come on he said, one step at a time. Hmmm.....really? Well I retied my shoelaces, tight, adjusted the camera around my neck and tried to avoid reading the warning sign that began with CLIMB AT YOUR OWN RISK and ended somewhere with SUITABLE IF YOU HAVE A HEAD FOR HEIGHTS AND ARE FIT. Well I'm ok with heights (have a thing about falling down but don't we all) as for fit - no way. But, I decided why not? What's the wo...