A long, long time ago, in a faraway galaxy… I had a relationship with a guy who was beautiful (well, very normal looking, but his soul was beautiful). Truly, madly, deeply, this guy was my world. He had so many layers, good and bad, but I could see the playful, clever, affectionate, humorous truth behind it all and focused only on that. Continue reading
Remember how we spoke
of astral travel?
I’ve been gone for weeks
atom. Continue reading
“We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It’s a dream already ended,” wrote Jack Kerouac in a letter to his first wife, found in The Portable Jack Kerouac. Continue reading
The vast majority of the writers I have contacted about the Letters to My Ex anthology have embraced the concept right away: it’s about women and connection. The letters are written to an unnamed, often male recipient, but it’s not about men at all.
A friend recently suggested it might be best to spell out the ‘what’s in it for me’ factor. Since I’ve had a few people write to me asking about payment (there’s no payment), I’m going to address this perfectly reasonable question. Continue reading
I cringe when I look back on any writing I’ve done where I talk about being fairly content in life, “Mostly happy, more centred than ever.” I don’t cringe because it’s a lie. I cringe because it paints only a partial truth – I am MOSTLY happy. You must not forget the MOSTLY. It was a fucking long road to get to MOSTLY from RARELY. Why am I yelling? Continue reading
When I decided to start a women’s anthology, Letters to My Ex, I received a lot of positive feedback about the idea. I also received some remarkable letters – all written in first-person and addressed to an ex-partner, containing snippets of stories that varied immensely: from death and disease, to infidelity, abortion, to just a polite nod goodbye after a gradual drifting apart. Continue reading
“How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.” ― David Foster Wallace, The Pale King.
David Foster Wallace, American novelist and short story writer, is a person I was unfamiliar with until I recently heard his Kenyon College Commencement address, which took place in 2005. After hearing it, while I don’t agree with absolutely everything he said, I’m completely besotted. In the words of Emery Allen, “I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul.” Continue reading
I have just finished Dani Shapiro’s book Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage, and I am frustrated. Not because the book is a bad read and I’ve wasted my time – no, I’m frustrated that it has been labelled a book which is predominately about Dani’s marriage. Continue reading
In A Hidden Wholeness, Parker J Palmer writes about the “moral exoskeleton” most of us put on hoping to prop ourselves up. This is not just for religious groups. This is everyone. We decide what it is we value and we prop ourselves up with it, as though we were inexorably hollow beneath it all. Continue reading
First published in Orange City Life, 23 Feb 2017
Violinist Doreen Cumming has reached remarkable heights in classical music, but her toughest battle was within.
Doreen Cumming is a radiant, quick-witted and passionate violinist who has performed with the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra, the Canberra Symphony Orchestra, the Australian Chamber Orchestra, the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra and on a number of recordings for big-name film scores. She’s acted in all violin positions including soloist and concertmaster, and plays with a depth of skill and emotion which has impressed audiences in Asia, Europe, America and of course, Australia. Continue reading