Why can’t you leave The ache was too great. Like someone had plunged an icicle through my shoulder into my heart. I felt as if my wrists were shackled, and my throat caught in the grasp of some beast with strong hands and long claws. The weight of my lies suffocated me and the yearning…Read More
“I was raised by a fairy…” is a common line I use. My mum is definitely a fairy. An Aquarius, hippie, witchy fairy. I was raised in the garden, loving music, and always seeing things from a perspective no one dreamed of. I was doubtlessly an odd child. I had a level of intuition that…Read More
I take off my glasses to see The crisp edges of the world melt into each other as I take off my glasses and sink into the pool. It’s hazy and green in the daytime, but right now in the pink afternoon it is liquid black satin. Dirty from digging in the garden, I relish…Read More
For those who also have trouble starting. It’s Winter. It’s always hard to get up in Winter. It’s cold outside and warm in bed. And comfy. And cat. Cat is important. I wake up at 4am, go back to sleep until 6, then awake again as my warm snuggle buddy leaves a cold spot as…Read More
When you have pursued your dreams and lost your way. Something has been creeping up within my consciousness recently. It terrifies me. I’m not sure why or how it happened, but it did and now I feel ill. As if you found out someone took a vital organ and you have a limited amount of…Read More
I’ve been to cities that never close down. From Rio, to Southport, and old Busan town. I used to work on cruise ships and through that I’ve been to nearly forty countries. I’ve met authors from every continent (except Antarctica). It was a joke between a guitarist on the cruise ship and I, that we’d get a local beer from every port we stopped in. In that spirit I have some kind of beverage (alcoholic or not) with every author I chat to. These are the things that are what I’ve realised are vastly different, and vastly similar, when you are an Australian Fiction Author.Read More
Do you Work to Live? Live to Work? This blog comes from when I asked myself: What if you actually liked working? Then two years later needing to ask myself the same question again.
The real question is, though, If you didn’t have to work, what would you be doing?