Gillian Polack's Blog, page 204
March 5, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-03-05T12:09:00
I just heard that Paul Haines has gone. It's not unexpected, but it's still devastating. I can't write an introduction to him, but I can link you to an introduction he did of himself. It is - of course it is - the only interview I've ever done where I had to consult with my editors about the language. I argued that Paul's use of language was part of who he was as a writer, and so this interview has words that do not normally grace the pages I frequent. http://www.bibliobuffet.com/bookish-dreaming/archive-index-bookish-dreaming/1260-the-horror-in-life-an-interview-with-paul-haines-041810
He was a fine writer and has left an astonishing legacy for such a short career. Our world is a much smaller place without him, without his courage and, yes, without his foul language.
He was a fine writer and has left an astonishing legacy for such a short career. Our world is a much smaller place without him, without his courage and, yes, without his foul language.
gillpolack @ 2012-03-05T11:06:00
Today the pain is down to medium pain. I only want to sleep half the time. This means it's time to party...
Actually, I rather suspect it means it's time to do my taxes. No, I can postpone them until Thursday, for I have a brand-new course to prepare for the ANU and that's a bit more urgent. It starts tomorrow and is all about writing novels. The timing is just perfect for a number of reasons. Firstly, I'm up to revision on my current novel and it always helps to teach skills when novel revision comes. Secondly, I'm in hopes that this income will take me to near the place where I can pay all those dental bills. Thirdly - teaching! Students! All good.
I shall make a cuppa and do both my handouts and my teaching notes and then, tomorrow, I can leave early and make my meeting and do two hours in the library on my dissertation. I got the call numbers ready for that , yesterday, for they were hiding in the papers I sorted.
Speaking of paper sorting, I only got 3/4 through the Great Paper Sort. It really was a high pain day: about the only thing I did efficiently was eat chocolate.
Actually, I rather suspect it means it's time to do my taxes. No, I can postpone them until Thursday, for I have a brand-new course to prepare for the ANU and that's a bit more urgent. It starts tomorrow and is all about writing novels. The timing is just perfect for a number of reasons. Firstly, I'm up to revision on my current novel and it always helps to teach skills when novel revision comes. Secondly, I'm in hopes that this income will take me to near the place where I can pay all those dental bills. Thirdly - teaching! Students! All good.
I shall make a cuppa and do both my handouts and my teaching notes and then, tomorrow, I can leave early and make my meeting and do two hours in the library on my dissertation. I got the call numbers ready for that , yesterday, for they were hiding in the papers I sorted.
Speaking of paper sorting, I only got 3/4 through the Great Paper Sort. It really was a high pain day: about the only thing I did efficiently was eat chocolate.
March 4, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-03-04T15:50:00
All I want to do this weekend is sleep, with just enough time awake to complain about pain. There are weeks when chronic illnesses rear themselves, and those weeks suck. Not bigtime. There are many worse things than those that haunt my body. And I'm getting work done, regardless. Still and however, the work isn't happy and the body creaks and aches and the fiction is on hold until my supervisor sends me his comments, so I can't take refuge from the pain in an alternate universe.
This afternoon is the time of the Big Paper Sort. This is when I take stock of all my notes for all my projects and I discover just how far I have to go. So far, I have more to do on the Lanagan and on my review articles than I thought (because I lost a lot of their workslots this last fortnight to this dratted pain) but I'm far more advanced on the dissertation. I have all the notes for the Douglass piece and just have to spend a half hour typing and checking, which will be this evening. The Beast is mostly where the Beast should be - I have three big datasets to look at, but everything else is pretty much where it ought to be, I think.
The reason the Big Paper Sort is today, is because this coming week is all about taxes and annual reports. If I have my regular notes floating around, I might miss something crucial for the others. Besides, it was about time I sat down in my comfy chair, with stacks of paper next to me and a flat surface before me and much SF TV informing my interpretation of my notes.
This afternoon is the time of the Big Paper Sort. This is when I take stock of all my notes for all my projects and I discover just how far I have to go. So far, I have more to do on the Lanagan and on my review articles than I thought (because I lost a lot of their workslots this last fortnight to this dratted pain) but I'm far more advanced on the dissertation. I have all the notes for the Douglass piece and just have to spend a half hour typing and checking, which will be this evening. The Beast is mostly where the Beast should be - I have three big datasets to look at, but everything else is pretty much where it ought to be, I think.
The reason the Big Paper Sort is today, is because this coming week is all about taxes and annual reports. If I have my regular notes floating around, I might miss something crucial for the others. Besides, it was about time I sat down in my comfy chair, with stacks of paper next to me and a flat surface before me and much SF TV informing my interpretation of my notes.
WHM - Simone Penkethman
Simone is a Canberra-based musician/composer. She's giving us an introduction to Canberra's music scene (just for something a bit different).
The Passenger
Simone Penkethman
A few years ago, it occurred to me that Canberra is coming of age. It was a gangly, rural adolescent of a town when I arrived as a child in 1976. Almost everyone was transplanted from somewhere else. We all complained that there was nothing to do (echoing our parents and older siblings). "There's no soul; no history, no life". Somewhere along the line that changed. The dormitory city where I grew from a child to an adult became a home. The place Canberra was in the 70s and 80s was first forgotten and disregarded, then remembered like a bad dream, then mythologised; and now, it's even celebrated.
There were some early but obvious signs of history resurfacing. In 2004 I directed a theatre piece with actors in their mid-teens. I noticed with some surprise that several cast members had a familiar "DK" logo emblazoned in permanent marker on their schoolbags. "I saw the Dead Kennedys." I told them, feeling simultaneously old and cool, "They played the Uni Bar in 1983. Jello Biafra stage-dived into a seething mass of skinheads singing 'Nazi Punks F*ck Off'. And he survived!"
More recently, a Facebook page called Canberra Punk and Beyond has seen a community reconnect, sharing stories, photos and memories from the late 70's onwards.
Last Friday, at the Polish Club in Turner, I saw The Lighthouse Keepers play after many silent years. My younger friends and newer Canberra arrivals were unaware of this much-loved early Canberra band. In the 1980s, the Lighthouse Keepers released independent records and achieved local, national and some international success that ran its course then faded away. They were of a generation with Steve Kilbey of The Church, The Gadflys, The Falling Joys and many other original and talented musicians living in the self-proclaimed culture-vacuum that was adolescent Canberra.
Looking back through the gilded glasses of time, I can see that there was life, culture and community. If there wasn't history already, we were making it then and there. In Garema Place where today's emo kids hang out by the silver goon bag, there was a toilet block and a stage. There were punks, rude boys and girls, Marxist lesbians and early goths. We feasted on chips and sauce from "Mama's", the café that was still in the same location till recently. In those days "Mama's" sold cigarettes, had a couple of pinball machines and a juke-box featuring the Sex Pistols' Anarchy in the UK.
Philip in Woden was home to mix of light industrial businesses and live music venues. My parents saw Galapagos Duck at the jazz joint, "Clean Living Clive's". My older cousins danced at "The Floyd" and when I was old enough to be an under-ager, I saw local psychedelic punks, The Young Doctors, play at "The Jam Factory".
The Young Doctors have also resurfaced after several fallow decades. They played at the Uni Bar late last year and will play again on March 10 as part of the Canberra Festival, alongside other bands of the day. Songs are like smells in the way they can directly access your buried memories and emotions. My recent experiences of seeing these two long lost local bands has been uplifting and affirming. They're still some of the most accomplished bands I know, proving that Canberra does and always has had soul - and great taste in indie music.
The Passenger
Simone Penkethman
A few years ago, it occurred to me that Canberra is coming of age. It was a gangly, rural adolescent of a town when I arrived as a child in 1976. Almost everyone was transplanted from somewhere else. We all complained that there was nothing to do (echoing our parents and older siblings). "There's no soul; no history, no life". Somewhere along the line that changed. The dormitory city where I grew from a child to an adult became a home. The place Canberra was in the 70s and 80s was first forgotten and disregarded, then remembered like a bad dream, then mythologised; and now, it's even celebrated.
There were some early but obvious signs of history resurfacing. In 2004 I directed a theatre piece with actors in their mid-teens. I noticed with some surprise that several cast members had a familiar "DK" logo emblazoned in permanent marker on their schoolbags. "I saw the Dead Kennedys." I told them, feeling simultaneously old and cool, "They played the Uni Bar in 1983. Jello Biafra stage-dived into a seething mass of skinheads singing 'Nazi Punks F*ck Off'. And he survived!"
More recently, a Facebook page called Canberra Punk and Beyond has seen a community reconnect, sharing stories, photos and memories from the late 70's onwards.
Last Friday, at the Polish Club in Turner, I saw The Lighthouse Keepers play after many silent years. My younger friends and newer Canberra arrivals were unaware of this much-loved early Canberra band. In the 1980s, the Lighthouse Keepers released independent records and achieved local, national and some international success that ran its course then faded away. They were of a generation with Steve Kilbey of The Church, The Gadflys, The Falling Joys and many other original and talented musicians living in the self-proclaimed culture-vacuum that was adolescent Canberra.
Looking back through the gilded glasses of time, I can see that there was life, culture and community. If there wasn't history already, we were making it then and there. In Garema Place where today's emo kids hang out by the silver goon bag, there was a toilet block and a stage. There were punks, rude boys and girls, Marxist lesbians and early goths. We feasted on chips and sauce from "Mama's", the café that was still in the same location till recently. In those days "Mama's" sold cigarettes, had a couple of pinball machines and a juke-box featuring the Sex Pistols' Anarchy in the UK.
Philip in Woden was home to mix of light industrial businesses and live music venues. My parents saw Galapagos Duck at the jazz joint, "Clean Living Clive's". My older cousins danced at "The Floyd" and when I was old enough to be an under-ager, I saw local psychedelic punks, The Young Doctors, play at "The Jam Factory".
The Young Doctors have also resurfaced after several fallow decades. They played at the Uni Bar late last year and will play again on March 10 as part of the Canberra Festival, alongside other bands of the day. Songs are like smells in the way they can directly access your buried memories and emotions. My recent experiences of seeing these two long lost local bands has been uplifting and affirming. They're still some of the most accomplished bands I know, proving that Canberra does and always has had soul - and great taste in indie music.
March 3, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-03-03T19:19:00
We have had rain. We have rain again. We will have more rain. I rather suspect this means more flooding.
The good news is that I have a full larder and fridge and even freezer, thanks to the kindness of friends. Donna drove me a cross roaring torrents (well, one roaring torrent, but it was impressively full and we crossed it several times) and she and Matthew and I got thoroughly soaked, as did Donna's and my shopping. The only thing we didn't get from my list was rice. And I was so overwhelmed by how full the shopping cart was that junk food didn't happen. Healthy snacks only, and not many of them.
My grocery money is all gone, and now I can focus on work for I only have top-up bits of shopping today for weeks and weeks. In fact, unless I want rice, I don't even have top up shopping to do for a fortnight: food lurks*.
*I don't know why things lurk this week. It's a bad habit and they should get over it.
The good news is that I have a full larder and fridge and even freezer, thanks to the kindness of friends. Donna drove me a cross roaring torrents (well, one roaring torrent, but it was impressively full and we crossed it several times) and she and Matthew and I got thoroughly soaked, as did Donna's and my shopping. The only thing we didn't get from my list was rice. And I was so overwhelmed by how full the shopping cart was that junk food didn't happen. Healthy snacks only, and not many of them.
My grocery money is all gone, and now I can focus on work for I only have top-up bits of shopping today for weeks and weeks. In fact, unless I want rice, I don't even have top up shopping to do for a fortnight: food lurks*.
*I don't know why things lurk this week. It's a bad habit and they should get over it.
WHM - Thoraiya Dyer
Thoraiya DYER is an Australian science fiction and fantasy writer with a passion for travel diminished only by an unreasonable fear of sharks. Her short fiction has appeared recently in Cosmos, Nature and ASIM #51, and is forthcoming in Apex. Winner of the 2011 Australian Ditmar Award for Best Novella/Novelette ("The Company Articles of Edward Teach") and the 2010 Aurealis Award for Fantasy Short Story ("Yowie"), a collection of her original short fiction will be published by Twelfth Planet Press in 2012.
My love of Australian woman writers – began when I was young, and continues on! It's actually come full circle, in a way. Australian women writers are sneaky like that.
When I was 5, I loved The Muddle-Headed Wombat, by Ruth Park. When Wombat was in trouble, I wanted to give him a huge squeezy cuddle. Fast forward twenty-five years, I found myself in a veterinary consulting room with three burly men restraining one 30kg wombat, just so I could give it a shot of antibiotics. Not as cuddly as I'd hoped.
When I was 10, I loved Space Demons by Gillian Rubinstein. All about being different, fitting in, getting on with people who were the complete opposite of you – and shooting Space Demons, of course. And it was so good to find my Aussie slang in an actual book!
When I was 15, I read My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin, and it blew me away. Her heroine (and she herself) was just as stubborn and ambitious as me, with the same hunger for learning. I wanted to have a brilliant career, too! Whatever happened to her? I hadn't heard of the Miles Franklin Award, but I stood by a burnished plaque set into the pavement at Circular Quay, read her description of the sunrise and was filled with hope.
At 20, I read Juliet Marillier's Foxmask, and began immediately to plan a holiday to the Faroe Islands. How magical they must be! I dreamed of having turf on my roof. I listened to songs by Teitur. I made it to Orkney, in the end, which was as far as my budget would stretch, but by then I'd read Wolfskin, and a big stack of Juliet's other books, and the whole world began to seem magical to me, again, after I'd knuckled down to embark on a very serious and non-magical veterinary career. Also, she made me look at women's crafts in a new way; made me see value in them that I hadn't seen before. Which is important.
When I was 25, getting all Zen with the archery practice, I feverishly flew through Lian Hearn's Across the Nightingale Floor</ai>, and all subsequent books in that milieu, only to discover that Lian Hearn was the same wonderful woman who had bewitched me at 10, Gillian Rubinstein. Heartbreakingly beautiful writing. Japanophiles especially vulnerable to being carried away by it.
Finally, a little way into my 30s, I opened the lid of the Book Club box at my local library, and there were 30 copies of The Harp In The South by Ruth Park. What a surprise and what a treasure. Like Juliet, she's a steal from New Zealand, but she captured our essence.
I rave about other writers that I love on my website and on Goodreads. Happy Women's History Month!
My love of Australian woman writers – began when I was young, and continues on! It's actually come full circle, in a way. Australian women writers are sneaky like that.
When I was 5, I loved The Muddle-Headed Wombat, by Ruth Park. When Wombat was in trouble, I wanted to give him a huge squeezy cuddle. Fast forward twenty-five years, I found myself in a veterinary consulting room with three burly men restraining one 30kg wombat, just so I could give it a shot of antibiotics. Not as cuddly as I'd hoped.
When I was 10, I loved Space Demons by Gillian Rubinstein. All about being different, fitting in, getting on with people who were the complete opposite of you – and shooting Space Demons, of course. And it was so good to find my Aussie slang in an actual book!
When I was 15, I read My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin, and it blew me away. Her heroine (and she herself) was just as stubborn and ambitious as me, with the same hunger for learning. I wanted to have a brilliant career, too! Whatever happened to her? I hadn't heard of the Miles Franklin Award, but I stood by a burnished plaque set into the pavement at Circular Quay, read her description of the sunrise and was filled with hope.
At 20, I read Juliet Marillier's Foxmask, and began immediately to plan a holiday to the Faroe Islands. How magical they must be! I dreamed of having turf on my roof. I listened to songs by Teitur. I made it to Orkney, in the end, which was as far as my budget would stretch, but by then I'd read Wolfskin, and a big stack of Juliet's other books, and the whole world began to seem magical to me, again, after I'd knuckled down to embark on a very serious and non-magical veterinary career. Also, she made me look at women's crafts in a new way; made me see value in them that I hadn't seen before. Which is important.
When I was 25, getting all Zen with the archery practice, I feverishly flew through Lian Hearn's Across the Nightingale Floor</ai>, and all subsequent books in that milieu, only to discover that Lian Hearn was the same wonderful woman who had bewitched me at 10, Gillian Rubinstein. Heartbreakingly beautiful writing. Japanophiles especially vulnerable to being carried away by it.
Finally, a little way into my 30s, I opened the lid of the Book Club box at my local library, and there were 30 copies of The Harp In The South by Ruth Park. What a surprise and what a treasure. Like Juliet, she's a steal from New Zealand, but she captured our essence.
I rave about other writers that I love on my website and on Goodreads. Happy Women's History Month!
gillpolack @ 2012-03-03T11:08:00
One of the reasons why I do things like Women's History Month: http://prospect.org/article/do-women-count People who face disadvantages don't need just one kind of support - getting individuals noticed, getting society to see things differently, changing the way we see things ourselves - there are so many ways of doing all this. And of course it isn't just women. But I learned the hard way that one can't be there for everyone, all the time. The other thing I learned the hard way that it's not very rational to spend all one's life promoting the needs of others, and, in the process fail to achieve one's own dreams.
March 2, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-03-02T16:52:00
I seem to have about ten times the number of messages to do these days. I also have my Annual Report due soon and other paperwork. This means that I've spent the whole day doing this and that and the other and now I get an hour off (because I hurt) and then I shall work the whole evening on the research that was unable to happen while I was doing this and that and the other.
I have given the matter great consideration and I feel very strongly that I strongly deserve spiced hot chocolate, very dark and very rich and very bad for me.
For those worried about the floods, a lot of them have gone down, but not all. We're waiting to see what the next lot of rain brings. I was living in hopes that the next lot of rain would miss us, but my weather aches and the BOM both suggest this won't happen. The longer it takes to hit, though, and the less heavy it is, the less of a problem this region will have. And I would not be downstream from this region right now, not for love or money!
I have given the matter great consideration and I feel very strongly that I strongly deserve spiced hot chocolate, very dark and very rich and very bad for me.
For those worried about the floods, a lot of them have gone down, but not all. We're waiting to see what the next lot of rain brings. I was living in hopes that the next lot of rain would miss us, but my weather aches and the BOM both suggest this won't happen. The longer it takes to hit, though, and the less heavy it is, the less of a problem this region will have. And I would not be downstream from this region right now, not for love or money!
WHM - Felicity Pulman
There are four (very different) books I've read and enjoyed recently, all by Australian authors: Seven Sacred Sites by Serene Conneeley; When It Rains by Maggie MacKellar; Beyond Fear by Jaye Ford; and Sydney Harbour Bridge, part of the My Australian Story series, by Vashti Farrer.
Seven Sacred Sites gives a beautiful physical description plus the history and special spiritual and psychic connections found in Glastonbury, Stonehenge, walking the Camino to Santiago, Machu Picchu, Egypt, Uluru and the Fire Islands of Hawaii. Each site holds its own special significance and, although you can still experience the magic as an 'armchair traveller', the book is certainly an incentive to visit these inspirational sites for the insights they will bring both to your heart and your soul.
When it Rains is a searingly honest and beautifully written memoir, a meditation on grief (and anger) as well as a story of courage and survival. Maggie's husband committed suicide while she was expecting her second child; her mother died shortly afterwards. With her life falling apart, Maggie abandoned her academic career to seek comfort with her mother's family on their farm. There, the heat, drought and endless hard work helped her come to terms with her loss and find peace. A beautiful and inspirational story.
Beyond Fear is Jaye Ford's debut crime novel. Four friends go for a girls' weekend in the country. Jodie carries a secret from the past, a secret that alerts her to the dangers they face when two men come knocking at the door. What follows kept me on the edge of my seat and reading far into the night!
Sydney Harbour Bridge - one of Australia's icons brought to 'life' in Vashti's fascinating account of the last year leading up to its opening. The story is told in two very different diaries. Alice, who lives on the north shore, is the daughter of one of the engineers. Billy lives at the Rocks. His father is a 'donkeyman' and he's keeping the diary for one of his mates whose family home was demolished to make way for the bridge's foundations and who has had to move to the Happy Valley Camp at La Perouse, home for the homeless. Interesting information about the Depression and the politics behind the building of the bridge (leading to the rise of the New Guard) is skilfully woven through details of how the bridge was actually built. Although this is a series for children, I found it both fascinating and informative. The characters are appealing and the resolution was very touching.
Seven Sacred Sites by Serene Conneeley, published by Blessed Bee, 2008.
When It Rains by Maggie MacKellar, published by Random House Australia
Beyond Fear by Jaye Ford, Bantam Books
Sydney Harbour Bridge by Vashti Farrer from the My Australian Story series, published by Scholastic Australia
Felicity Pulman is the award-winning author of numerous novels for children and teenagers, most notably the timeslip novels Ghost Boy and the Shalott trilogy, and her medieval crime series for teenagers, The Janna Mysteries. See her website and blog + video clip below for more information plus site photographs and articles of interest to writers.
www.felicitypulman.com.au
www.youtube.com/felicitypulman
Seven Sacred Sites gives a beautiful physical description plus the history and special spiritual and psychic connections found in Glastonbury, Stonehenge, walking the Camino to Santiago, Machu Picchu, Egypt, Uluru and the Fire Islands of Hawaii. Each site holds its own special significance and, although you can still experience the magic as an 'armchair traveller', the book is certainly an incentive to visit these inspirational sites for the insights they will bring both to your heart and your soul.
When it Rains is a searingly honest and beautifully written memoir, a meditation on grief (and anger) as well as a story of courage and survival. Maggie's husband committed suicide while she was expecting her second child; her mother died shortly afterwards. With her life falling apart, Maggie abandoned her academic career to seek comfort with her mother's family on their farm. There, the heat, drought and endless hard work helped her come to terms with her loss and find peace. A beautiful and inspirational story.
Beyond Fear is Jaye Ford's debut crime novel. Four friends go for a girls' weekend in the country. Jodie carries a secret from the past, a secret that alerts her to the dangers they face when two men come knocking at the door. What follows kept me on the edge of my seat and reading far into the night!
Sydney Harbour Bridge - one of Australia's icons brought to 'life' in Vashti's fascinating account of the last year leading up to its opening. The story is told in two very different diaries. Alice, who lives on the north shore, is the daughter of one of the engineers. Billy lives at the Rocks. His father is a 'donkeyman' and he's keeping the diary for one of his mates whose family home was demolished to make way for the bridge's foundations and who has had to move to the Happy Valley Camp at La Perouse, home for the homeless. Interesting information about the Depression and the politics behind the building of the bridge (leading to the rise of the New Guard) is skilfully woven through details of how the bridge was actually built. Although this is a series for children, I found it both fascinating and informative. The characters are appealing and the resolution was very touching.
Seven Sacred Sites by Serene Conneeley, published by Blessed Bee, 2008.
When It Rains by Maggie MacKellar, published by Random House Australia
Beyond Fear by Jaye Ford, Bantam Books
Sydney Harbour Bridge by Vashti Farrer from the My Australian Story series, published by Scholastic Australia
Felicity Pulman is the award-winning author of numerous novels for children and teenagers, most notably the timeslip novels Ghost Boy and the Shalott trilogy, and her medieval crime series for teenagers, The Janna Mysteries. See her website and blog + video clip below for more information plus site photographs and articles of interest to writers.
www.felicitypulman.com.au
www.youtube.com/felicitypulman
March 1, 2012
Women's History Month: Anita Heiss
My name is Anita Heiss.
I'm a Wiradjuri woman, born and bred in Sydney with a passion for New York. I surround myself with strong, capable, intelligent, sassy women and they are reflected in my commercial women's novels. I proudly support the Indigenous Literacy Foundation and the National Year of Reading, and I aspire to having my own chat show one day. My memoir Am I Black Enough For You? will be on the shelves nationally on April 1.
I am who I am because of some of the deadly women writers who have influenced by creative journey, below are just a few of them…
1. Oodgeroo Noonuccal: As the first Aboriginal person to publish a collection of poetry back in 1964, Oodgeroo Noonuccal and her work We Are Going remain an influence on me today. Her 'Aboriginal Charter of Rights' is still a reminder of what needs to be done in Australia in terms of human rights for First Nations people here, and her words are an ongoing motivational force for me to continue to write, in whatever genre.
2. Rosie Scott: I first met Rosie back in 1998 and she has been (knowingly or otherwise) a mentor of mine ever since. Her novels Glory Days, Movie Dreams and Faith Singer are favourites of mine because they are about the human condition in all its painful truth. Rosie's work through Sydney PEN (and with Thomas Keneally) that gave a voice to detained asylum seekers in the anthology Writers in Detention is to be applauded, and serves to remind us as writers of the freedoms we enjoy here in Australia, freedoms that come with responsibilities. I admire Rosie for marrying her activism with her writing, which is why she also won the Sydney PEN Award.
3. Libby Gleeson: It was because of Libby's recommendation and faith in me that I ended up writing my first novel, Who Am I? the diary of Mary Talence, Sydney 1937 as part of the Scholastic My Story series. I will always remain indebted to her for reading my first draft and offering advice. Without her support that book would never have happened, the story of the Stolen Generations would not be taught in classrooms around Australia today, and I probably wouldn't actually be writing still today.
4. Linda Jaivin: Although not a children's writer, Linda also read the first draft of Who Am I? for me and gave me fantastic advice about the use of senses in my work. I've never forgotten her help back then. But more importantly, what I have learned from Linda's own writing is the ability to engage readers on serious, social-justice issues with humour, while also educating them and making them see their own prejudice. Her novel The Infernal Optimist does that brilliantly, using the humorous voice and phraseology of Zeke Togan and his life in Villawood detention centre to showcase the appalling reality of life for asylum seekers behind the wire.
5. Jackie Huggins: I remember exactly where I was sitting when I read Jackie's collection of writings in Sister Girl (UQP). And I will never forget how grateful I was for her combining her ten years of writings, and her real life experiences, roles and responsibilities as an Indigenous woman of profile and power in Australia, and publishing her world in a book for me to read. Well, not just me, but women like me, and you for that matter. Jackie is one of the most dignified women I have ever met, and her ability to get serious messages across to mass audiences is what sets her apart from many others with a similar mission. It is Jackie's style of writing, and approach that I [hope] can be found in some of my own work, because we share a common goal in documenting Aboriginal women's stories. In Sister Girl Jackie Huggins says of writing history,
I wanted to write about the silent history of Aboriginal women that has been the experience of so many of my mother's and grandmother's generation. Although we learnt about the pioneering efforts of mostly European males, little was recorded about the 'backbone' of the pastoral industry, the Aboriginal men and women who toiled as stockmen and domestic servants… The stories deserve recognition and need to be rescued, recorded and shared.
I'm a Wiradjuri woman, born and bred in Sydney with a passion for New York. I surround myself with strong, capable, intelligent, sassy women and they are reflected in my commercial women's novels. I proudly support the Indigenous Literacy Foundation and the National Year of Reading, and I aspire to having my own chat show one day. My memoir Am I Black Enough For You? will be on the shelves nationally on April 1.
I am who I am because of some of the deadly women writers who have influenced by creative journey, below are just a few of them…
1. Oodgeroo Noonuccal: As the first Aboriginal person to publish a collection of poetry back in 1964, Oodgeroo Noonuccal and her work We Are Going remain an influence on me today. Her 'Aboriginal Charter of Rights' is still a reminder of what needs to be done in Australia in terms of human rights for First Nations people here, and her words are an ongoing motivational force for me to continue to write, in whatever genre.
2. Rosie Scott: I first met Rosie back in 1998 and she has been (knowingly or otherwise) a mentor of mine ever since. Her novels Glory Days, Movie Dreams and Faith Singer are favourites of mine because they are about the human condition in all its painful truth. Rosie's work through Sydney PEN (and with Thomas Keneally) that gave a voice to detained asylum seekers in the anthology Writers in Detention is to be applauded, and serves to remind us as writers of the freedoms we enjoy here in Australia, freedoms that come with responsibilities. I admire Rosie for marrying her activism with her writing, which is why she also won the Sydney PEN Award.
3. Libby Gleeson: It was because of Libby's recommendation and faith in me that I ended up writing my first novel, Who Am I? the diary of Mary Talence, Sydney 1937 as part of the Scholastic My Story series. I will always remain indebted to her for reading my first draft and offering advice. Without her support that book would never have happened, the story of the Stolen Generations would not be taught in classrooms around Australia today, and I probably wouldn't actually be writing still today.
4. Linda Jaivin: Although not a children's writer, Linda also read the first draft of Who Am I? for me and gave me fantastic advice about the use of senses in my work. I've never forgotten her help back then. But more importantly, what I have learned from Linda's own writing is the ability to engage readers on serious, social-justice issues with humour, while also educating them and making them see their own prejudice. Her novel The Infernal Optimist does that brilliantly, using the humorous voice and phraseology of Zeke Togan and his life in Villawood detention centre to showcase the appalling reality of life for asylum seekers behind the wire.
5. Jackie Huggins: I remember exactly where I was sitting when I read Jackie's collection of writings in Sister Girl (UQP). And I will never forget how grateful I was for her combining her ten years of writings, and her real life experiences, roles and responsibilities as an Indigenous woman of profile and power in Australia, and publishing her world in a book for me to read. Well, not just me, but women like me, and you for that matter. Jackie is one of the most dignified women I have ever met, and her ability to get serious messages across to mass audiences is what sets her apart from many others with a similar mission. It is Jackie's style of writing, and approach that I [hope] can be found in some of my own work, because we share a common goal in documenting Aboriginal women's stories. In Sister Girl Jackie Huggins says of writing history,
I wanted to write about the silent history of Aboriginal women that has been the experience of so many of my mother's and grandmother's generation. Although we learnt about the pioneering efforts of mostly European males, little was recorded about the 'backbone' of the pastoral industry, the Aboriginal men and women who toiled as stockmen and domestic servants… The stories deserve recognition and need to be rescued, recorded and shared.
