In which I try to get all literary on yo asses
Dear Megoracle Friends, I am writing to share the unfathomable news that TODAY (dum-di-dum) my novel came off the printing presses (if that’s what they still use for printing books), into boxes, out the door and into the hands of my publisher. Hip hip horatio and all his happy friends. This means that I have to stop waking in the night to wonder whether I could have worded something better, […]
Oh come on menstruation, I know you’re on your way. Enough with all the bullshit No more warning signs okay? ~ I don’t need a goddamn pimple Or a dose of teary grumps, No more bloat or weird food cravings, No more headaches or boob lumps. ~ I know when you are coming – You don’t need to arrogate My life for weeks you nasty mole I mean I know the bloody date. ~ […]
You’d better like your flatties, If you’re coming to the shack, You’d better like your sauso’s And your lamb chops good and black. ~ You’d better like your screen doors With a squeak and then a bang, Your cricket match with salt And your night’s sleep filled with sand. ~ You’d better like your mornings Infused with motor oil, And your evenings spiced with smoke From the back deck mozzie […]
I feel sorry for December. It’s always hurried along and full of the business of getting the year finished off roundly on top of getting prepared for Christmas and holidays and having to put on bathers. Its days are overhung by that forgotten something feeling. The younger members of the population just don’t want a bar of most of December – “How many sleeps ’til Christmas? When’s school finishing? Do […]
Oh wind you noisy billow, You good for nothing blust, Roughing up my willows Shushing birdsong with your gust. You bugger up my roses, You send our offspring wild, You get right up our noses, Like an irritating child. Oh wind can you please quit, Even though you dry my towels? My eyes are full of grit And my ears full of your howls. Our farm is drying out, The […]
I have only just returned from a holiday in the tropics which involved swimming in sublime turquoise ocean, sipping cocktails with a really good book and not having to make beds, clean or cook. But I tell you, this day – this Tuesday in the Schoolhouse with my cup of buddha’s tears and the smells of spring outside and old books inside and the sound of nothing but my keyboard […]
My life is generally out of (varying degrees of) control. Mostly that’s ok because the bits that are out of control are the bits that don’t concern me too much. Like the state of my car. Living on dirt roads with three farm children renders car cleaning pretty pointless. I clean it thoroughly when circumstances render de-dirting absolutely necessary, like luncheon with the Governor or something. The family photo situation […]
This is the other story that didn’t win the Country Style Short Story Competition. Most of it was written here in the schoolhouse, with some input from Kel. I started writing it just after 37 year old Olga Neubert was fatally shot by her ex-husband in Hobart in May this year. White Ribbon Day is on Nov 25th, pop it in your diaries. Violence against women is NEVER OK. MRS […]
So I finally worked through my bitterness as not getting a mention in the Country Style short story competition for the fifth year running. I even entered two stories this year god dammit (okay maybe some of the bitter taste remains). But I hate a sore loser and I made myself buy the magazine with the winning story in it. I wanted the story to be silly or boring or […]
One night, a long, long time ago, the moon didn’t rise. She was full fit to burst and bright enough to light every way, but still she didn’t rise. The masked owls shuffled in their nests, waiting to fly by the moon, but even by nine she was nowhere to be seen. The wombats peeked from their holes and grumpily snuffled in the dark earth, but still she didn’t rise. […]
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