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Showing posts from 2015

Indi and Bodie Treat us to a Merry Christmas

Before you start reading, it helps to know that Indi is the girl on the right and Bodie is the boy on the left. Indi: Our humans putting weird Things on our heads... Hey. You have treat? I want treat.  Bodie: Omnomnom. Treat yum, but stupid Thing on head. Hurry. Chew treat. Get Thing off head. 

When the Roos Come Out to Play

It's often rainy or overcast when the kangaroos come out to play. And they did just that last week, coming as part of a casual mob, grooving around the green grass for a graze and gossip. ('Mob', by the way, is the collective noun for kangaroos).  See the one under the tree, sheltering from the rain (top right)? 

The Write of Spring

When the wind comes to you from a place of perfume and possibility, Caressing your face with promises, And

The Start of Spring

It's the last week of August 2015. Which also means it's the last week of winter 2015. In Australia, that is. There have been hints - little breaths and soft whispers - that spring has been stirring, stretching its arms, and beguiling winter out if its customary grumpy cold. Magic undercurrents of watermelon freshness have been dancing through the air, and now, the signs of spring are

On Finding a Writing Community and Culture

I read something years ago about Anais Nin being part of a community of writers (including Henry Miller) who were getting paid  $1 a page to write, shall we say, 'explicit' stories for an anonymous, wealthy collector. You can find out more about the story itself easily enough, but the thing that really struck me and stayed with me, was that Nin was part of a group of writers who hung out together, worked in a collective and were trying to make a living through writing, creating.  How, I always wondered, did these writers all find each other? I mean, I assume that they were all hanging out at the same cafĂ©s or salons  or gatherings all the time, but still... How did they go from crossing paths to having and sharing a writing community and culture?

How My Micro-Fiction Grew Up Into Flash-Fiction

How a piece of micro-fiction that had no right to be anything more, grew up to become a published piece of flash-fiction - with my reflections on the writing process along the way. I received some wonderful news in June. A flash-fiction story I submitted for a special edition of the SirensCall ezine was accepted, and was published at the end of June. Oh, all right, all right. Since you insist, the link to SirensCall ezine issue is here: http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/pdfs/SirensCallEZine_June2015.pdf The most amazing thing about this story is how it happened.

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge: Day 5 - Frangipanis

Lilacs are my Mum's flower. Roses for my Grandma.  They say it runs in our family. Us women. We can talk to flowers. No, that's not right. Flowers talk to us. Not all flowers though. 

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge: Day 4 - Magic Hour

This is her favourite time of the day. When the sun has slipped gracefully to the other side of the world, the sky is blinking sleepily, and the clouds arch, stretch and get ready to tease their friends, the stars,by obscuring their view of the earth below. 

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge: Day 3 - High Spirits

When autumn rolls out shorter days and cooling weather, the little Leaf Spirits of the Liquid Amber tree in the backyard awaken. 

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge: Day 2 - Tight

Blood red promises

Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge: Day 1 - Spring

The spring nights were still cold, which sent people indoors early. The Spring Dragon was happy about this, especially on nights of full moons. 

Loose Lips

"Working with wine," said The Bore, "has the perk of allowing one to really appreciate cheeses." He took a nibble of aged Brie and looked down his nose at everyone. "And crackers," drawled The Self-Conscious Rebel (no bow tie at a formal event). 

Autumn: Some Words and a Poem

It is autumn here in the Blue Mountains in Australia. The world has been getting steadily colder for weeks, the sun has retreated in the sky, and leaves are falling to the ground in great numbers. It is both beautiful and melancholy, and it instills a form of sun-worship deep inside me that I don't think I will ever lose - even though I grew up as a child of the tropics. I don't like knowing there are still three bleak months of winter to come, so I focus on the small, visual beauties of autumn in the here and now . Back in high school, I remember we were given an English Lit assignment of writing a poem about autumn. We never did enough of the creative writing, which was my favourite thing (although I used to anticipate it so much, the joy in the actual writing and end result never lived up to expectation). For the autumn poem, I can't remember what I wrote (thank goodness!) except that I tried to make it rhyme. I tried to use all the right imagery borrowed from the

Deserted Sands: A Writing Dare Prompt

This poem is in response to a writing dare set by @StoryBandit on Twitter.  We dare you to write a 29-word poem using the following words: spouses, desolate, cavern, fondness.  Deserted sands Of baking lands Desolate skins Whipped by winds In a cavern hidden Visitors unbidden Snakes cling to spouses Sweet nesting houses Such fondness belies Their glinting eyes. 

Frankie Gets into Hollywood

This story was born out of a piece of FridayPhrases micro-fiction on the theme of "Only human". (I love FridayPhrases and have gushed about it at length here ). This was the micro-fic that I initially came up with on Twitter:  "Frankenstein,Dracula & TheMummy glared at the Bouncer who said "Only humans." He got a philosophical lecture abt being human & a thump." This image tickled me enough that

Morsels of Micropoetry

Thanks to the regular prompts of Fieryverse and HeartSoup on Twitter, I've ended up composing many tiny pieces of poetry. Looking back at some of my 2014 efforts, I have to say I'm really pleased with how they've turned out - either a clever turn of phrase, or a recognition of the mood/image that I was going for at the time (which means I captured it pretty accurately!)

Cooking up a Storm

This piece of flash fiction is in response to a writing dare from @StoryBandit , who said:

Into the Valley

This little story grew out of a Twitter conversation with Roger__Jackson ( @jabe842 ) and Dee Lancaster ( @dee_lancaster ). Both folks are, by the way, brilliant contributors to my very favouritest micro-fiction word prompt game, Friday Phrases , now being run by the fabulous Lara Meone Savine @larameone .  The Twitter convo, initially about commutes and commuting, veered (not very surprisingly) into a story prompt idea in the spirit of those offered by the excellent @storybandit .  Create a 99-word story using the following words: Cauliflower soup, golf, boot camp, the weather, reify.