writer | editor | artist
This guest story in the 200 words/200 days series is brought to you by the inimitable, the awesome, the awe-inspiring Dr Sean Williams. I’m sure you already know who Sean is, but just in case you haven’t had the pleasure, Sean is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of over forty award-winning novels, one hundred…
Gibson Girl Florence Evelyn Nesbit was born on Christmas Day in either 1884 or 1886 (her mother sometimes concealed her date of birth in order to get around those pesky child labour laws, so her true year of birth has been forgotten), in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. During her lifetime, she was said to be the most…
This GUEST POST in the 200 words/200 days series is brought to you by the lovely and talented Ms Maria Arena. I’ve written about Maria’s most recent book, a young adult horror novel, Sisterhood before. After you’ve read this lovely taster of her deep, broad talent, you should visit her online, where you can read more about…
When I was young I thought I understood everything. I thought I knew what pain was, and what to do with it, how to recover from it. I thought I knew what it would mean to bear a child, and raise them, and love them. I didn’t know enough to be frightened by the fragility of the hearts…
Eventually, someone you love will stop loving you. You can only imagine what will happen next. You will stand with your back against the wall in an empty room. Sliding down the wall. Sliding down until you are folded like a mirror of the letter N: your back a stem, your thighs a stroke, your shins a second stem….
So, a relatively recent copy of the LRB showed up in the post this week. For various reasons, my subscription has waxed and waned this year. Sometimes nothing arrives for months, and then suddenly a flood of copies – a flurry – in one glorious avalanche. Anyway, I’ve read about two paragraphs of it so far,…
H had a small, strong body and a pixie haircut. Wisps of gold on the back of their neck, on their cheeks. I met H at their home in the low hills out the back of the Gold Coast when I was a uni student. We went there to trade our labour for food and knowledge. We…
A little while ago, I delivered a creative paper at the ANZSA (Australia and New Zealand Shakespeare Association). I posted the abstract for this paper on my blog a while ago, and thought I’d follow up by sharing the text of the performance. The piece is an examination of the 16 year ‘gap’ in the…
The woman in the plane seat next to me looks uncomfortable. She has the kind of short, sparse hairstyle I associate with those receiving chemotherapy, or living in a concentration camp. I can see the paleness of her barely-protected scalp. She is wearing orthopaedic shoes and has a large, well-filled handbag. As the other passengers…
The architect comes into my office smiling, a woven basket on her arm. Greenery – wild and fragrant – spills from the basket. It is a hot day, and she sinks gratefully into the spare chair in my office. I should be clear and say that she is no longer an architect, or not a…