Message for Keith Austin at the Horror workshop.
After expressing my admiration for your novels, Grymm and Snow White,
you addressed me as Mum in the public forum...
Just letting you know I would prefer to be addressed as
Ageing Sex Goddess.....
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Are you Data or Narrative?/ Bendigo Writers Festival.
I remember once reading that there are two types of ways that people make
meaning of world-data or narrative.
The Festival brought out my love of narrative and stories. It is the stories that stick.
Story 1.
Bob Brown's father was a policeman. Bob would not eat his greens
(Funny because of later political party affiliations)
His father took him to the police lock out and left him for an hour
before marching him back to eat his cold greens.
Story 2:
Bruce Whatley was born with a paralysed arm, strangled in a difficult birth.
His mother was told that it would whither and die but she refused to listen,
massaging it until final at 2 he was able to hold a spoon.
Asking her later, why she was so determined, she said her father
had lost his right arm when jumping on trains to get coal pieces
for a freezing family and his father had lost both arms from passing out drunk
on the train line.
Story 3:
The Goldfields painter, ST Gill did not die drunk on the steps of the GPO in Melbourne
but he did die starving and of a brain haemorrhage.
Story 4:
Horror/Fantasy writer, Keith Austin's father was a Canadian soldier in World War 2 and
instead of being put in a prisoner of war camp, he was interned in a concentration camp.
Returning to England, he became an undertaker and young Keith got used to seeing dead bodies in his front room. Keith admitted to a fear of cotton wool and maybe that is because his Dad may
have used it in his trade.
Everybody has a story and even without the Happy Ever After,
it is so exciting. Writers are generous to share....
meaning of world-data or narrative.
The Festival brought out my love of narrative and stories. It is the stories that stick.
Story 1.
Bob Brown's father was a policeman. Bob would not eat his greens
(Funny because of later political party affiliations)
His father took him to the police lock out and left him for an hour
before marching him back to eat his cold greens.
Story 2:
Bruce Whatley was born with a paralysed arm, strangled in a difficult birth.
His mother was told that it would whither and die but she refused to listen,
massaging it until final at 2 he was able to hold a spoon.
Asking her later, why she was so determined, she said her father
had lost his right arm when jumping on trains to get coal pieces
for a freezing family and his father had lost both arms from passing out drunk
on the train line.
Story 3:
The Goldfields painter, ST Gill did not die drunk on the steps of the GPO in Melbourne
but he did die starving and of a brain haemorrhage.
Story 4:
Horror/Fantasy writer, Keith Austin's father was a Canadian soldier in World War 2 and
instead of being put in a prisoner of war camp, he was interned in a concentration camp.
Returning to England, he became an undertaker and young Keith got used to seeing dead bodies in his front room. Keith admitted to a fear of cotton wool and maybe that is because his Dad may
have used it in his trade.
Everybody has a story and even without the Happy Ever After,
it is so exciting. Writers are generous to share....
Festival Cupcakes.
Going to the festival
is an exciting array of cupcakes.
What to pick?
The experience is so rich and intense
and as brain food
is a sugar rush.
I am left both exhausted and energised.
is an exciting array of cupcakes.
What to pick?
The experience is so rich and intense
and as brain food
is a sugar rush.
I am left both exhausted and energised.
Before listening to the optimistic Bob Brown
Standing on a precipice to hear
the great man.
To hear him and not fall is the trick.
Bob Brown,
great through his bravery in standing for the environment
great as he stands in a public space as a gay man in a hostile world
but for me, it is his simply humanity that makes him great.
On the day my twin sister husband fell from Federation Peak,
he called to offer his sympathy.
A simple act of humanity
towards a stranger who
herself, was falling from a great height.
And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda and the lines of Dr Bruce:
Splashed ink
Splashed mud
Splashed blood
Picture this-the young and vital
splayed and contorted on foreign ground
in the splashed lines,
that weave and curl
across the oceans to Australia
as the news entwines and settles as barbwire
in the hearts of family and friends
eventually to be shown in the ink of Dr Bruce,
bringing him to tears at the Bendigo Writers Festival.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Nakedness and blogging.
I feel about as comfortable as I would running naked through View street, Bendigo
as I do in Blogging. Even the words sound rude, like constipation.
Still about to launch into the Bendigo Writers Festival where my mind hopefully will be electrified by new ideas to apply to my own creative words and art.
as I do in Blogging. Even the words sound rude, like constipation.
Still about to launch into the Bendigo Writers Festival where my mind hopefully will be electrified by new ideas to apply to my own creative words and art.
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