The Writing Life
The first episode is fairly tame compared to what comes afterwards. Sophie transforms from an emotionally and physically repressed woman into a sexually adventurous vixen.
Category Archives: Head | Creativity
Secret Theatre Business
I’ve spent twenty years working in theatre as a stage manager and I’ve never really talked about it on my blog. It’s like being a spy — no one knows exactly what you do but it sounds exciting.
Twenty Fourteen
I hereby state my intentions for the New Year — 2014.
A New Job x2
After three years of not working [unless you count completing two degrees working … which it is, but you know what I mean] I am returning to the rat race
Kicking the Perfectionist Monster in the Nards
Until recently, I’ve struggled to write 500 words a day. I’ve sat at the computer for about an hour, felt sick to my stomach, stamped my foot and said ‘I don’t wanna’, written a page of painfully careful prose and then gone off to watch Series Three of Borgen.
The Top 5 Things Australians Want to Know
Lacking inspiration this morning for a blog post, I decided to check the top trending Google searches in Australia in the hopes that I knew something about some of the topics. So, without further ado – here we go.
Making the Bed
When I was a child my mother made me make my bed every morning. In those days, before doonas and fitted sheets, my bed had a satin bedspread and a puffy quilt for winter.
The Wild Country
My life has been drawn in the silhouette of a man. All that is feminine, in the true essence of the word, has been shunned and disapproved.
Living in the Past
Living in the past is a hazard of being a writer. I’m always turning my face to look behind me at my stories, my memories, my history, strung out like tin cans trailing behind a bridal car.
Foolish
If you knew what really happened, how I really feel, you would realise how stupid I am. And if I no longer believe I am smart and sensible and self-aware, then who am I?
The Body
I don’t know what to do with his body. I don’t want to touch it, so I leave him there and go outside to drink my tea and drink in the morning sun. Somehow I forget about Klaus until I walk back inside and then the shock of his death hits me all over again.
I kissed a girl [not]
I’ve never kissed a girl, touched another vulva or another breast. Even though I went to an all girls’ school in the third form, the opportunity never came up. We were only interested in the St Josephs’ boys who rode past the school gates on the way home.
To whom much is given, much shall be required
My mother used to quote this bible verse to me all the time. She believed my “gifts from God” had to be utilised to their fullest potential. To this day, the idea of being held accountable for my talent still haunts me.