Fiction

  • Tonight

    On the sixth day of Christmas, I craved a feeling. A specific feeling, really. I craved a couch. And a book. And me. All of us rolled up together, where nothing and no one could find us. It’s not like I… Continue reading

  • The Happy Place

    When your happy place gets lost Just remember It will always Always Find you. Continue reading

  • Alexis Wright: Boisbouvier Oration, Melbourne Writers Festival

    I’ve never read an Alexis Wright, book. Until she won the 2018 Stella prize, I’d never even heard her name. But I can’t stop thinking about the speech she gave at the Melbourne Writers Festival on Wednesday night, and I… Continue reading

  • The Miles Franklin Literary Award. Melbourne Writers Festival

    I was power walking and angry listening. In my earphones was the voice of an award-winning Aussie writer, discussing his concerns about the literary prizes of the world, and how potentially harmful he thought them to be, considering the subjective nature… Continue reading

  • How Mood Affects Writing

    I’ll be honest with you. I-am-cranky. There. I’ve said it. And now I don’t even know what words are going to end up in this sentence because my fingers are just banging away without me even thinking, without me even… Continue reading

  • Darling Day 17. Kill Your Darlings

    It’s a phrase that makes my arm hairs stand up every time I say it, every time I think it. Kill your Darlings. Who would do such a thing? Who would even think up such a horrid plan? Well…writers, that’s… Continue reading

  • Falling In Love By Lamplight

    I can’t remember the moment I fell in love with books. But I know it was by lamplight. A warm orange flush against the wall. The shadow of a Mum, and a girl, and a book, and a bed. A… Continue reading

  • An Audience With My Writerly Self

    Hello Writerly Me, It’s good to see you! Thanks for coming, by the way. No one else will be attending the party, sadly. Some were too shy to come. The rest: burning the candle at both ends, they said. Too… Continue reading

  • The Wonder of the Muse

    It’s the cool rush of fire shooting down the limbs, filling up the head, the heart, the page. The spirit. The muse, some people call it. But what’s in a name? said the muse, to the writer who sat his desk once upon… Continue reading

  • The Power of Words

    The word peach makes me feel like summer. I love that. Maybe it’s the colour: dappled orangey, yellowy, red—to me, that colour sings. Just like summer. Summer sings. It could also be the many hundreds of peaches I’ve slurped down… Continue reading