Okay, the KSP have placed the list of winners up on their website, so I can now officially congratulate everyone who copped a gong in this year's SF Awards.
So, slaps on the back and warm manly hugs to:
Shire of Mundaring National Young Writers Awards
1st Prize: Violet Macdonald (TAS) The Last Words
2nd Prize: Michael Greif (WA) Target
Highly Commended:
Rebecca Doyle (WA) Rebellion
Commended:
Stephanie Wong (WA) Traffic
Lachlan Dally (ACT) The Witch
Open Section
1st Prize: Eleanor Marney (VIC) The Self-Sufficient Gardener
2nd Prize: Luke Johnson (NSW) A Fish on Sunday
Highly Commended:
Monica Carroll (ACT) Documentation version 1.0.0 for Cartesian Family Harmony
Jason Fischer (SA) The Imogen Effect
Commended:
Bella Anderson (VIC) Treasure
Felicity Bloomfield (ACT) Tentacles all the Way
Laura E Goodin (NSW) Mooncalf
You can read my full report here, if you wish.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
ART THAT SCARES YOU
I've been amiss in not mentioning this so far, but an online auction is currently underway to help the Paul Haines Relief Fund.
As you know, Paul has cancer, and the treatment he faces is going to cost upwards of $20K, money he just doesn't have. So far, SF community efforts have raised 80% of the money needed, and now Art That Scares You has been set up to help raise the rest.
I've donated a signed copy of Through Soft Air, Lyn's donated her last copy of the rare luscios-edited ASIM 11 (containing Paul's story Hamlyn, it sold out in first run and to the best of my knowledge there are no more available), and a gajillion others have pledged novels, collections, artwork, manuscript assessment, blankets, soup, and a small child called Colin.
Get into it. The auction is online until 28th August. You can win yourself something cool and help Paul win his battle at the same time. It's noble, with added booty!
As you know, Paul has cancer, and the treatment he faces is going to cost upwards of $20K, money he just doesn't have. So far, SF community efforts have raised 80% of the money needed, and now Art That Scares You has been set up to help raise the rest.
I've donated a signed copy of Through Soft Air, Lyn's donated her last copy of the rare luscios-edited ASIM 11 (containing Paul's story Hamlyn, it sold out in first run and to the best of my knowledge there are no more available), and a gajillion others have pledged novels, collections, artwork, manuscript assessment, blankets, soup, and a small child called Colin.
Get into it. The auction is online until 28th August. You can win yourself something cool and help Paul win his battle at the same time. It's noble, with added booty!
THE ENVELOPE, PLEASE
A lovely afternoon was spent by the Battfam this afternoon: Luscious and the littlies accompanied me to the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writer's Centre where I announced the winners of this year's SF Awards. Apart from catching up with some old pals in the forms of Satima Flavell Neist, Helen Venn and Chris Oakley, it was great to see several winners in the Junior section turn up to receive their awards.
I'm not certain that all winners (many were from other states, including every einner in the Open section) has been notified of their placing, so I'll hold off from listing everyone here until I get the all clear, but my warmest congratulations to all concerned, and thanks to the KSP for giving me the opportunity to be a part of this competition again. It was a fantastic experience, and a lovely occasion today. I'll be more than happy to be a part of it again any time.
I'm not certain that all winners (many were from other states, including every einner in the Open section) has been notified of their placing, so I'll hold off from listing everyone here until I get the all clear, but my warmest congratulations to all concerned, and thanks to the KSP for giving me the opportunity to be a part of this competition again. It was a fantastic experience, and a lovely occasion today. I'll be more than happy to be a part of it again any time.
HOW TO ENJOY THE NEW STAR WARS MOVIE
- Take Aiden
- Choose a Thursday night Swancon session
- Give him a bottle of cool drink and a large bag of crisps
- Drop him off in a foyer full of fans, several of whom he counts as friends
- Bog off to the food hall across the road and read until the movie ends.
Everybody's happy!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
'SIN DA BOX?
Black Box is fucking pretty. Like a coked-up Goth chick playing with a shiny knife.
You really want one. I'm telling you.
Fucking pretty.
You really want one. I'm telling you.
Fucking pretty.
IRON MAN IS NOT A SEX TOY
Yes, only one of the inspiring and, frankly, disturbing, items of information to come up on Saturday, as we played host to some of WA's, if not finest, then certainly rowdiest SF friends. A lunch date featuring Tehani Wessely and kids, Terri Sellen and family, Stephen Dedman, Elaine Kemp, Martin Livings, Dr Izz, Alisa Krasnostein, Angela Challis, and Shane Jirayia Cummings: well, what did we expect? :)
Our first guests arrived around 11.30am-ish, and the last rolled out at 1am the following morning. It was that kind of lunch, and we had an absolute blast the whole time. For some reason, Eastern States' SF folk get together all the time, whereas Western SF writers don;t seem to (or, you know, just don't invite us...). The weather's turning fine, our backyard is big enough to hold the children of many families (including the weird doppelganger kiddie who lives next door and freaked out many of us there, not least Tehani, whose daughter Gwen is the dopplegangee...)-- we'll be doing it again.
Our first guests arrived around 11.30am-ish, and the last rolled out at 1am the following morning. It was that kind of lunch, and we had an absolute blast the whole time. For some reason, Eastern States' SF folk get together all the time, whereas Western SF writers don;t seem to (or, you know, just don't invite us...). The weather's turning fine, our backyard is big enough to hold the children of many families (including the weird doppelganger kiddie who lives next door and freaked out many of us there, not least Tehani, whose daughter Gwen is the dopplegangee...)-- we'll be doing it again.
And to give you an idea of the sort of things that get covered when the (allegedly) finest SF minds in WA get together, a smattering---
- When a bed is that close to the ceiling, all sex is experimental.
- There's a fine line between footsies and rough sex.
- Aaron Eckhart's jaw: like Dib's head, why is it so biiiiig?
- If fortnightly sex is in the diary, well, what can you do?
- Oh God, Battersby children really do play those sort of games. The blogs aren't exaggerating! (Lifesize doll, dragged around by her tied-together feet, Erin deciding who is and isn't a zombie. That's all I'm saying)
- Come to Christmas Island: we've got guano and jumping crabs!
- Black, Issue 2: look for the surprise book spine.
- Oh, and the writer's names spelled out in acrostics.
- Grasshopper pie: alcohol and fake grasshoppers. Look for them in your local Coles.
- All the chocolate covered jelly snakes have gone. Back to Ireland. Won't they be surprised?
- It's a suit of high grade metal polymer carrying the latest in space-age technology, repulser rays, and flight rockets, not a dolly.
- Seriously, what's with Aaron Eckhart's fucking jaw?
- And if you are going to use Iron Man as a sex toy, take the visor off first.....
Too. Much. Fun. Roll on spring so we can do it again.
OH GOD, HOW MUCH DO I LOVE FOXTEL?
Sunday night, thanks to Fox Sports Some Channel or Other, for the first time in several seasons, guess what I got to do?
That's right: actually watch Forest play!
I may have had a sportsgasm. I won't try to deny it.
The first game of the new season, the first time we've been promoted in almost a decade, and thanks to Fox's one-game-a-week coverage of the Championship, I got to see the boys in red take on the 2nd-level might of newly-relegated Reading. And what a fist they made of it, too: despite injuries to 4 of the 5 strikers in the squad, and bookies odds that had us marginally better value than the return of Jesus, we ran, harried, held and passed our way to a well-earned draw with a team mooted as one of the very heavy guns of the division. What's more, we did it with style: I had expected lump-it-and-chase football, but we kept it on the ground, maintained possession (over 70% of possession, by game's end), and apart from one magnificent save from keeper Paul Smith, held our much more fancied opponents to a game of desperate lunges and hopeful shots. Survival football is one thing. Stylish, European ball play is a much finer one, and we played football.
Robert Earnshaw, on whom I had bestowed grave doubts, was a dynamo up front, his constant movement and darting runs a genuine disturbance to the giant Reading centre backs, and young Frenchman Guy Moussi is already looking like the find of the season: if he maintains that kind of imperious form, what chance a Premiership approach come January? Quick message to all Prem teams: fuck off. Young Lewis McGugan was a constant threat, involved in everything until a silly booking.... for a team with all but two players under the age of twenty five, we played with poise and steel, and that as much as anything gives me hope for the long season ahead.
Do I sound excited? Am I babbling? Do I resemble a sad fanboy finally getting to bask in some sunshine?
Picture my happy face :)
Swansea next, and on the form we displayed on Sunday, don't discount us having three points in the bag by game's end. Come oooooon, you Reeeeddddsss!
That's right: actually watch Forest play!
I may have had a sportsgasm. I won't try to deny it.
The first game of the new season, the first time we've been promoted in almost a decade, and thanks to Fox's one-game-a-week coverage of the Championship, I got to see the boys in red take on the 2nd-level might of newly-relegated Reading. And what a fist they made of it, too: despite injuries to 4 of the 5 strikers in the squad, and bookies odds that had us marginally better value than the return of Jesus, we ran, harried, held and passed our way to a well-earned draw with a team mooted as one of the very heavy guns of the division. What's more, we did it with style: I had expected lump-it-and-chase football, but we kept it on the ground, maintained possession (over 70% of possession, by game's end), and apart from one magnificent save from keeper Paul Smith, held our much more fancied opponents to a game of desperate lunges and hopeful shots. Survival football is one thing. Stylish, European ball play is a much finer one, and we played football.
Robert Earnshaw, on whom I had bestowed grave doubts, was a dynamo up front, his constant movement and darting runs a genuine disturbance to the giant Reading centre backs, and young Frenchman Guy Moussi is already looking like the find of the season: if he maintains that kind of imperious form, what chance a Premiership approach come January? Quick message to all Prem teams: fuck off. Young Lewis McGugan was a constant threat, involved in everything until a silly booking.... for a team with all but two players under the age of twenty five, we played with poise and steel, and that as much as anything gives me hope for the long season ahead.
Do I sound excited? Am I babbling? Do I resemble a sad fanboy finally getting to bask in some sunshine?
Picture my happy face :)
Swansea next, and on the form we displayed on Sunday, don't discount us having three points in the bag by game's end. Come oooooon, you Reeeeddddsss!
MORE ON THE KSP SF DAY
Since I last spoke, a whole slew of primo panellists have been confirmed for the KSP SF Minicon on the 21st September.
Confirmed panelists, apart from myself and Luscious, include Adrian Bedford, Janet Blagg, Hal Colebatch, Stephen Dedman, Russell B Farr, Simon Haynes, Elaine Kemp, Alisa Krasnostein, Martin Livings, Dave Luckett, Ian Nichols, John Parker, and Tehani Wessely. That's at least as good a line-up as Gladiators, and has a distinct advantage in that none of us will wear spangly lycra. Except for maybe Rusty. Which will make a nice change from an Hawaiian shirt :)
The one-day mini-con, which starts at 10.00am, will be held at the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers' Centre, Old York Road, Greenmount,Perth. Gold coin admission, lunch available. Join usssss....
Confirmed panelists, apart from myself and Luscious, include Adrian Bedford, Janet Blagg, Hal Colebatch, Stephen Dedman, Russell B Farr, Simon Haynes, Elaine Kemp, Alisa Krasnostein, Martin Livings, Dave Luckett, Ian Nichols, John Parker, and Tehani Wessely. That's at least as good a line-up as Gladiators, and has a distinct advantage in that none of us will wear spangly lycra. Except for maybe Rusty. Which will make a nice change from an Hawaiian shirt :)
The one-day mini-con, which starts at 10.00am, will be held at the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers' Centre, Old York Road, Greenmount,Perth. Gold coin admission, lunch available. Join usssss....
OH, YOU SO WANT TO READ THIS!
Over at Dog Vs Sandwich, you can find Lyn's story Lily's Song.
For a whole lot of reasons, not all of which are to be talked about, you want to read this. It's as brilliant as Lyn's work always is: evocative, emotionally difficult, and beautifully written. This one is one of my favourites, and has been since she first wrote it. Enjoy.
For a whole lot of reasons, not all of which are to be talked about, you want to read this. It's as brilliant as Lyn's work always is: evocative, emotionally difficult, and beautifully written. This one is one of my favourites, and has been since she first wrote it. Enjoy.
JUST SO'S KATE WILL SMILE
Okay, I've worked it out. Now I get to imagine Kate smiling, which is always nice :)
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
RECEIVED
My contributor's copy of ASIM 36, containing my poem Working For a Greener Narrative, along with fiction by the likes of Lisa Mantchev, Shane Nelson and Cat Sparks, and an interview with Greg Egan.
Go. Buy. Read.
My contributor's copy of ASIM 36, containing my poem Working For a Greener Narrative, along with fiction by the likes of Lisa Mantchev, Shane Nelson and Cat Sparks, and an interview with Greg Egan.
Go. Buy. Read.
THE ALCHYMICAL GRANT
He loved her even in those moments. It meant more. If only-
Now she was gone. The only empty chair. Gone. He stared over his window.
No way. He couldn't. Too long criss-crossing the skin. Unnoticed.Undisturbed. A shark. Barely noticed. Pure solitude.
Alchymical Romance: Serial Killer Mix by Grant Watson. Check it out.
He loved her even in those moments. It meant more. If only-
Now she was gone. The only empty chair. Gone. He stared over his window.
No way. He couldn't. Too long criss-crossing the skin. Unnoticed.Undisturbed. A shark. Barely noticed. Pure solitude.
Alchymical Romance: Serial Killer Mix by Grant Watson. Check it out.
BATTERSBY EATS SOME HUMBLE PIE
Yes, yes, okay: so we saw The Dark Knight during the week. And yes, even though Heath Ledger has been firmly ensconced, high on my Kurt Rusell Memorial List of What The Fuck's The Fuss All About Over This Two Rate Hack? for several years, I admit, in public:
He's pretty bloody amazing in this one.
Truth is, as a superhero movie, TDK isn't all that good. That's not to say it isn't a good movie-- it is. It's a fascinating, multi-layered, quite literary examination of duality, of what it means to wear a mask in both public and private roles, and how the assumption of moral sets defines the way we interact with the society around us. Batbruce is a person playing two roles, both false, both dependant upon the other. The Joker is not only the antithesis of everything Old Pointy Ears stands for, he is the antithesis of all that Wayne holds dear as well-- eschewing money, eschewing position, and power, setting his stock not on the preservation of social hierarchies but on their destruction. (Could Batman exists without Wayne's priviledged place in life? I doubt it.)
Ledger is hypnotic, by far the edgiest and sanest character in the movie, a twitching, self-destructive Tyler Durden figure that almost, almost seduces you into his nihilistic point of view. Indeed, it would have been very easy for the creators to paint him as the good guy of the piece-- a few less pointless killings, a better choice of targets (swap hospitals for missile sites, clean-cut District Attorneys for slum lords......). The Joker has an advantage that villians in comic books always possess: he is proactive, whereas Wayne, Dent, and Gordon, (the status quo-reinforcing elements) must wait, and can only act in a reactive capacity. The Joker sets the agenda, creates the milieu, and has the greater capacity to alter the perceptions of the viewer-- if what he does works, then the status quo is damaged irreparably-- Tyler Durden wins in the end, after all, and despite the carnage along the way, creates a world without debt burden, leading the viewer to accept his message as a positive one. The Joker wipes out millions of dollars of illegal assets, destroys several powerful crime families, and almost ruins a dangerous vigilante with enough power and influence to break international judicial agreements and suffer not even a raised eyebrow in consequence. It's only because he chooses civilian targets, and because the law enforcement system considers Batman too powerful to abandon (not too right, mind, just too effective), that he must be sacrificed in order to preserve the current balance of power.
And Ledger nails it. I'll admit it: he absolutely nails it. This is no laughing looney, no Clown Prince of Crime. He ain't Jack Nicholson's cringingly awful fatboy clown. He's an urban terrorist: intelligent, amoral, aware of the street value accorded those who don't blink. He's Anarky, stripped down and painted black, and Ledger is brilliant.
It's the role that will define him, in the same way Brandon Lee will always be The Crow, and James Dean will always be the Rebel Without a Cause. Because, for the first and last time in his truncated career, he stripped away the staginess and uncomfortable posings of his performance and spoke directly to the truth of his character. It's ugly, and distrubing, and utterly mesmerising.
Yes, yes, okay: so we saw The Dark Knight during the week. And yes, even though Heath Ledger has been firmly ensconced, high on my Kurt Rusell Memorial List of What The Fuck's The Fuss All About Over This Two Rate Hack? for several years, I admit, in public:
He's pretty bloody amazing in this one.
Truth is, as a superhero movie, TDK isn't all that good. That's not to say it isn't a good movie-- it is. It's a fascinating, multi-layered, quite literary examination of duality, of what it means to wear a mask in both public and private roles, and how the assumption of moral sets defines the way we interact with the society around us. Batbruce is a person playing two roles, both false, both dependant upon the other. The Joker is not only the antithesis of everything Old Pointy Ears stands for, he is the antithesis of all that Wayne holds dear as well-- eschewing money, eschewing position, and power, setting his stock not on the preservation of social hierarchies but on their destruction. (Could Batman exists without Wayne's priviledged place in life? I doubt it.)
Ledger is hypnotic, by far the edgiest and sanest character in the movie, a twitching, self-destructive Tyler Durden figure that almost, almost seduces you into his nihilistic point of view. Indeed, it would have been very easy for the creators to paint him as the good guy of the piece-- a few less pointless killings, a better choice of targets (swap hospitals for missile sites, clean-cut District Attorneys for slum lords......). The Joker has an advantage that villians in comic books always possess: he is proactive, whereas Wayne, Dent, and Gordon, (the status quo-reinforcing elements) must wait, and can only act in a reactive capacity. The Joker sets the agenda, creates the milieu, and has the greater capacity to alter the perceptions of the viewer-- if what he does works, then the status quo is damaged irreparably-- Tyler Durden wins in the end, after all, and despite the carnage along the way, creates a world without debt burden, leading the viewer to accept his message as a positive one. The Joker wipes out millions of dollars of illegal assets, destroys several powerful crime families, and almost ruins a dangerous vigilante with enough power and influence to break international judicial agreements and suffer not even a raised eyebrow in consequence. It's only because he chooses civilian targets, and because the law enforcement system considers Batman too powerful to abandon (not too right, mind, just too effective), that he must be sacrificed in order to preserve the current balance of power.
And Ledger nails it. I'll admit it: he absolutely nails it. This is no laughing looney, no Clown Prince of Crime. He ain't Jack Nicholson's cringingly awful fatboy clown. He's an urban terrorist: intelligent, amoral, aware of the street value accorded those who don't blink. He's Anarky, stripped down and painted black, and Ledger is brilliant.
It's the role that will define him, in the same way Brandon Lee will always be The Crow, and James Dean will always be the Rebel Without a Cause. Because, for the first and last time in his truncated career, he stripped away the staginess and uncomfortable posings of his performance and spoke directly to the truth of his character. It's ugly, and distrubing, and utterly mesmerising.
KATHARINE SUSANNAH PRICHARD WRITER'S CENTRE-- SF EVENTS
This Sunday, 17th August, at 3pm, the Chairperson of KSP, the CEO of the Shire of Mundaring and the Competition Judge - that would be me - will present the awards to the winners of the KSP Speculative Fiction Competition. Prize winners will read excerpts from their entries. Light refreshments will be available.
Come on down to the Centre, at 11 Old York Road, Greenmount, meet the winner, hear some damn good SF, and enjoy the historic grounds.
And on Sunday 21st September, starting at 11am, the KSP SF Mini-conference will be happening. The first mini-con, held in 2006, was an outstanding success, with several score people attending. The panels, readings and inexpensive lunch all contributed to the day’s success, and we hope to do even better this year.
There will be timeslots for six panels with readings in between. There will also be readings over lunch time. Once again, our friends at Fantastic Planet will be setting up shop at KSP for the day. There will also be opportunities for signings throughout the day. Lyn and I will be attending, as will many of the leading lights of Western Australian SF. More information will be posted to this humble blog as we get closer to the day.
Pencil it in, SF fans.
This Sunday, 17th August, at 3pm, the Chairperson of KSP, the CEO of the Shire of Mundaring and the Competition Judge - that would be me - will present the awards to the winners of the KSP Speculative Fiction Competition. Prize winners will read excerpts from their entries. Light refreshments will be available.
Come on down to the Centre, at 11 Old York Road, Greenmount, meet the winner, hear some damn good SF, and enjoy the historic grounds.
And on Sunday 21st September, starting at 11am, the KSP SF Mini-conference will be happening. The first mini-con, held in 2006, was an outstanding success, with several score people attending. The panels, readings and inexpensive lunch all contributed to the day’s success, and we hope to do even better this year.
There will be timeslots for six panels with readings in between. There will also be readings over lunch time. Once again, our friends at Fantastic Planet will be setting up shop at KSP for the day. There will also be opportunities for signings throughout the day. Lyn and I will be attending, as will many of the leading lights of Western Australian SF. More information will be posted to this humble blog as we get closer to the day.
Pencil it in, SF fans.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
REMIX MY LEE
Okay, my little friends, it's up and ready for remixing:
Alchymical Romance at Remix My Lit.
Cut, paste, re-arrange, glue, sparkle, underline, do those little love hearts on the top of the i like girls do, intertwine, hand wave, wibble, whatever you like....
And let me know how it all turns out.
Okay, my little friends, it's up and ready for remixing:
Alchymical Romance at Remix My Lit.
Cut, paste, re-arrange, glue, sparkle, underline, do those little love hearts on the top of the i like girls do, intertwine, hand wave, wibble, whatever you like....
And let me know how it all turns out.
Friday, July 25, 2008
PAY ATTENTION: THIS IS IMPORTANT
Paul Haines is one of the good guys. One of the best. And for the past ten months, he and his family have suffered the toughest times of their lives: Paul has bowel cancer, and after all the pain and fear, and losing part of his bowel to it, he thought he'd conquered the bastard, only to find spots on his liver during the past week. He's been blogging his experience, and frankly, it's nothing you'd ever want to go through.
Paul's a fighter, and he's going to fight this with two other forms of chemotherapy for cancers like his, combined with a monoclonal antibody called Avastin. Avastin, however is not part of Medicare or the private health system's funding at this stage. It costs $20,000 to do it. Money that he doesn't have.
That's where we come in. We're a community, with all that implies: we're going to do what we can to raise the money for his treatment.
And that's where you come in. Because you can go here, like a lot of us have already done, and you can make a payment via Paypal. Or you can email me, and ask for bank details to make a direct deposit. Or you can click the button below, which (hopefully) will take you to the payment screen.
Either way, if you've ever enjoyed one of Paul's stories, or one of mine; if you're a friend of mine and you just want to give me a warmenfuzzie; or you want to make a difference, this is the way to do it. If you've bought a copy of my book, or a magazine with my story in it, I insist.
Paul's one of the good ones, people, and he needs our help.
Paul Haines is one of the good guys. One of the best. And for the past ten months, he and his family have suffered the toughest times of their lives: Paul has bowel cancer, and after all the pain and fear, and losing part of his bowel to it, he thought he'd conquered the bastard, only to find spots on his liver during the past week. He's been blogging his experience, and frankly, it's nothing you'd ever want to go through.
Paul's a fighter, and he's going to fight this with two other forms of chemotherapy for cancers like his, combined with a monoclonal antibody called Avastin. Avastin, however is not part of Medicare or the private health system's funding at this stage. It costs $20,000 to do it. Money that he doesn't have.
That's where we come in. We're a community, with all that implies: we're going to do what we can to raise the money for his treatment.
And that's where you come in. Because you can go here, like a lot of us have already done, and you can make a payment via Paypal. Or you can email me, and ask for bank details to make a direct deposit. Or you can click the button below, which (hopefully) will take you to the payment screen.
Either way, if you've ever enjoyed one of Paul's stories, or one of mine; if you're a friend of mine and you just want to give me a warmenfuzzie; or you want to make a difference, this is the way to do it. If you've bought a copy of my book, or a magazine with my story in it, I insist.
Paul's one of the good ones, people, and he needs our help.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
OH, IT'S GOING TO HURT TO SAY THIS
Okay, I'm as prepared as I'm going to be. Let's get this over with. Kung Fu Panda...... urgh, aaaggghh.... for a..... movie.....ooomph.... with Jack..... aaaargggghhhh.... Jack Black..... oh, go, oh it hurts...... Jack Black in it....... ooohhhh, aaahhhh........ doesn't...... oh my goddd....... doesn't suck.
There......... I said it. Can I go now?
Okay, I'm as prepared as I'm going to be. Let's get this over with. Kung Fu Panda...... urgh, aaaggghh.... for a..... movie.....ooomph.... with Jack..... aaaargggghhhh.... Jack Black..... oh, go, oh it hurts...... Jack Black in it....... ooohhhh, aaahhhh........ doesn't...... oh my goddd....... doesn't suck.
There......... I said it. Can I go now?
Friday, July 18, 2008
DELIVERED
Alchymical Romance to Remix My Lit. Now to finish Comfort Ghost and send it to Hauntings, and finish Smuggler's Moon for New Ceres, and I can spend the rest of the year bashing away at novel work.
Look for me to get really gloomy by about mid-November......
Alchymical Romance to Remix My Lit. Now to finish Comfort Ghost and send it to Hauntings, and finish Smuggler's Moon for New Ceres, and I can spend the rest of the year bashing away at novel work.
Look for me to get really gloomy by about mid-November......
LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY JAMMY JAMMY LUCKY JAMMY.........
Wanna know what Aiden's been doing? Huh? Do ya?
Riding elephants, swimming with dolphins, skurfing, eating exotic fruits, shopping like a beyatch.... He's on holiday, the lucky little bastich: his best friend invited him to travel to Singapore with his family, and that's where he's been ensconced in an umpteen-star resort on the coast for the last week.
I'm as jealous as hell, particularly as it's been pretty much constant downpour here in exotic frikkin Clarkson since his departure. But he is, by all accounts, having the time of his life, and he deserves it-- his school grades are excellent, he's brilliant to have around the house, he's a fantastic brother and son, and even with the 20+ year age gap I'd consider him one of my funniest and most articulate friends notwithstanding the special nature of our Bonus son/father relationship. He's an amazing kid, and deserves an amazing adventure.
Of course, I've still turned all his furniture backwards in his room and hidden dead fish in his underwear drawer. Some things are traditional......
Wanna know what Aiden's been doing? Huh? Do ya?
Riding elephants, swimming with dolphins, skurfing, eating exotic fruits, shopping like a beyatch.... He's on holiday, the lucky little bastich: his best friend invited him to travel to Singapore with his family, and that's where he's been ensconced in an umpteen-star resort on the coast for the last week.
I'm as jealous as hell, particularly as it's been pretty much constant downpour here in exotic frikkin Clarkson since his departure. But he is, by all accounts, having the time of his life, and he deserves it-- his school grades are excellent, he's brilliant to have around the house, he's a fantastic brother and son, and even with the 20+ year age gap I'd consider him one of my funniest and most articulate friends notwithstanding the special nature of our Bonus son/father relationship. He's an amazing kid, and deserves an amazing adventure.
Of course, I've still turned all his furniture backwards in his room and hidden dead fish in his underwear drawer. Some things are traditional......
YER, COZ OI LOIKS TO LANCE.....A LOT! HUR HUR HUR.....
Ah well, at least it didn't tell me I was the sixth Doctor......
Your result for The Camelot Test...
Lancelot
Honourable and passionate. You never back down from a challenge. Your friends are very important to you. You believe in justice and duty far above your own personal security and comfort.
Congratulations! This was the most challenging result to get. You are one of a kind.
Take The Camelot Test at HelloQuizzy
Ah well, at least it didn't tell me I was the sixth Doctor......
Thursday, July 17, 2008
NOUN CONFUSION
ME: Did you have fun at Aunty Terri’s today?
CONNOR: Yep!
ME: Did you play with Shani?
CONNOR: Yep!
ME: And Darien?
CONNOR: Yep!
ME: And Gwen?
CONNOR: (long suffering) No, Daddy! She from Ben 10!
Ah. Yes. Silly me. Of course.
PRATCHETT'S SHORT CARROT
Like anybody who’s ever read his work, I’m a Terry Pratchett fan, and of his work, I’m particularly fond of the cycle of work involving the Night Watch of Ankh-Morpork. So I was a rather happy fellow today when I stumbled upon a previously-unknown-to-me short story today, featuring, as it does, Corporal Carrot, along with cameos from Captain Vimes, Nobby, and Sergeant Colon: you can read it here, too.
FOR REAL TRUTH, COUNT ON DINOSAURS
Oh, the writer’s life is a stoopid and accurately-mocked one.
And it always involves sequels somewhere along the line.
MICHAEL GREENHUT IN FANTASY
Free fiction, you ask? Wellllllllll, seeing as it’s you: Clarion South gradboy and member of an elite squad of risk-taking, pyrotechnical students I called my “jet-fighters”, the quite lunatic and fab Michael Greenhut has a new story up at Dark Fantasy magazine. Go and read it here.
ME: Did you have fun at Aunty Terri’s today?
CONNOR: Yep!
ME: Did you play with Shani?
CONNOR: Yep!
ME: And Darien?
CONNOR: Yep!
ME: And Gwen?
CONNOR: (long suffering) No, Daddy! She from Ben 10!
Ah. Yes. Silly me. Of course.
PRATCHETT'S SHORT CARROT
Like anybody who’s ever read his work, I’m a Terry Pratchett fan, and of his work, I’m particularly fond of the cycle of work involving the Night Watch of Ankh-Morpork. So I was a rather happy fellow today when I stumbled upon a previously-unknown-to-me short story today, featuring, as it does, Corporal Carrot, along with cameos from Captain Vimes, Nobby, and Sergeant Colon: you can read it here, too.
FOR REAL TRUTH, COUNT ON DINOSAURS
Oh, the writer’s life is a stoopid and accurately-mocked one.
And it always involves sequels somewhere along the line.
MICHAEL GREENHUT IN FANTASY
Free fiction, you ask? Wellllllllll, seeing as it’s you: Clarion South gradboy and member of an elite squad of risk-taking, pyrotechnical students I called my “jet-fighters”, the quite lunatic and fab Michael Greenhut has a new story up at Dark Fantasy magazine. Go and read it here.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
BOUQUET FOR A FELIDAE
You don’t have to know me very long to become aware of several things about me, including: I hate cats. Not big cats: lions, tigers, leopards, etc. Not the smaller wild cats: lynx, serval, ocelot and the like. Wild animals, in their native habitat, doing what they do, is something to be treasured.
Nope- domestic cats is whats I hate: introduced destroyers of local wildlife, stink creators, hair shedders, foul nasty disgusting creatures and I loathe every single one of the fuckers on sight. And no, trust me: it’s not just because I haven’t met yours, or haven’t got to know them properly or whatever. Domestic felines are fur-lined arseholes and I would cheerfully kick each and every one of them into the nearest river and laugh merrily as they drown.
Just in case you were wondering.
However, I must make public a small amendment to this statement of revulsion: there is one cat with whom I semi-regularly come into contact, and who recently, and not for even close to the first time, showed such a lovely side to her nature that it went a long way towards dispelling a sense of gloom and despair I’ve been carrying around with me. I’m very fond of this cat indeed, and have been for several years, and it’s a relationship I see as rolling and tumbling along for years to come. So this is just a public note to say that yes, there is one cat who I look upon with friendship and affection.
Of course, this cat is a human :)
You don’t have to know me very long to become aware of several things about me, including: I hate cats. Not big cats: lions, tigers, leopards, etc. Not the smaller wild cats: lynx, serval, ocelot and the like. Wild animals, in their native habitat, doing what they do, is something to be treasured.
Nope- domestic cats is whats I hate: introduced destroyers of local wildlife, stink creators, hair shedders, foul nasty disgusting creatures and I loathe every single one of the fuckers on sight. And no, trust me: it’s not just because I haven’t met yours, or haven’t got to know them properly or whatever. Domestic felines are fur-lined arseholes and I would cheerfully kick each and every one of them into the nearest river and laugh merrily as they drown.
Just in case you were wondering.
However, I must make public a small amendment to this statement of revulsion: there is one cat with whom I semi-regularly come into contact, and who recently, and not for even close to the first time, showed such a lovely side to her nature that it went a long way towards dispelling a sense of gloom and despair I’ve been carrying around with me. I’m very fond of this cat indeed, and have been for several years, and it’s a relationship I see as rolling and tumbling along for years to come. So this is just a public note to say that yes, there is one cat who I look upon with friendship and affection.
Of course, this cat is a human :)
TOM DISCH
I’m a few days late on this, but due to circumstances beyond my control I’ve only just found out that the death roll for this year has been added to once again: Tom Disch took his own life on the 4th of this month.
Disch’s early work was compulsive reading when I first discovered it during my Uni years- Camp Concentration and 334 are wonderfully bleak and despairing works, and his short fiction was the same. I never felt that same concentrated burst of emotion from his later work, although The MD stood out purely for the level of craft, and later still he seemed to become almost exclusively a poet. Much of his last works are on display at his LJ: I find it mixed, and don’t connect with a great deal of it, but that’s the nature of poetry.
By all accounts Disch was a difficult person to know, and once crossed, you were never forgiven (witness his exultation at Algis Budry’s passing, mere weeks before his own). He was a writer who stood apart from the genre in which he worked: like Barry Malzberg he was scarred by his early experiences of SF people and SF publishing and was both articulate and unforgiving enough to let us all know of his dissatisfaction, and accurately, scarily, why it was so. Still, as much as he may have hated it, he was one of us, and losing him is significant.
I’m a few days late on this, but due to circumstances beyond my control I’ve only just found out that the death roll for this year has been added to once again: Tom Disch took his own life on the 4th of this month.
Disch’s early work was compulsive reading when I first discovered it during my Uni years- Camp Concentration and 334 are wonderfully bleak and despairing works, and his short fiction was the same. I never felt that same concentrated burst of emotion from his later work, although The MD stood out purely for the level of craft, and later still he seemed to become almost exclusively a poet. Much of his last works are on display at his LJ: I find it mixed, and don’t connect with a great deal of it, but that’s the nature of poetry.
By all accounts Disch was a difficult person to know, and once crossed, you were never forgiven (witness his exultation at Algis Budry’s passing, mere weeks before his own). He was a writer who stood apart from the genre in which he worked: like Barry Malzberg he was scarred by his early experiences of SF people and SF publishing and was both articulate and unforgiving enough to let us all know of his dissatisfaction, and accurately, scarily, why it was so. Still, as much as he may have hated it, he was one of us, and losing him is significant.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
AND MORE!
Check out the Specusphere for a review of Dreaming Again that considers In From the Snow in a light that strikes me as slightly more than mildly positive :)
I'd say that when a reviewer wants to make up a prize just so they can give it to you, you've done reasonably well.....
Check out the Specusphere for a review of Dreaming Again that considers In From the Snow in a light that strikes me as slightly more than mildly positive :)
I'd say that when a reviewer wants to make up a prize just so they can give it to you, you've done reasonably well.....
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
A REVIEW OF UNWAVERING NICETIES
Over at Horroscope they've cast a critical eye over Aurealis 40, and have commented that Never Grow Old "linger(s) long after the final sentence."
Cool :)
They also have very nice things to say about the work of my good friends Paul Haines and Stephen Dedman, and whilst I disagree with their summation of Adam Browne's story (I think Browne is one of the most wonderfully unique and individual writers in Australian SF, and one of the most genuinely interesting short story writers I've read), the reviewer takes pains to point out that it's a function of his own reading taste rather than the quality of the workmanship.
Read the full review here.
Over at Horroscope they've cast a critical eye over Aurealis 40, and have commented that Never Grow Old "linger(s) long after the final sentence."
Cool :)
They also have very nice things to say about the work of my good friends Paul Haines and Stephen Dedman, and whilst I disagree with their summation of Adam Browne's story (I think Browne is one of the most wonderfully unique and individual writers in Australian SF, and one of the most genuinely interesting short story writers I've read), the reviewer takes pains to point out that it's a function of his own reading taste rather than the quality of the workmanship.
Read the full review here.
GRINNING LIKE A PARENT WHO'S DOING SOMETHING RIGHT
Erin is a happy, friendly class member who is making pleasing progress in all areas. She listens carefully to instructions then settles readily to the task in hand, always trying hard to do her best. Erin has a positive attitude to her learning and is developing sound work habits. She is a well behaved student who enjoys a happy relationship with her peers, is able to work co-operatively with a partner and willingly helps others.
So sayeth Erin's first ever school report card :)
And while it would embarrass the buggery out of him to have the details made public, let's just say that Aiden's report card makes his plan to become a robotics engineer and/or member of Drowning Pool nowhere near outside the bounds of possibility. One-a smart-a cookie.
CRAZY, MAN
To celebrate the end of term, Erin's school held a crazy hair day today. Except: no hair colour allowed, no gel, no glitter, no product. You know, no actual anything that might help make your hair crazy.
Given the limitations, and with the addition of a bright pink cowboy hat and tiara, I'd say her Mum did Erin rather proud in the crazy hair-making stakes, don't you?
Cthulhu: the hair!
NOT CRAZY PANTS DAY!
Not for us the lazy sleep-in on an Erin & Connor-free Sunday morning, no siree. Up out of bed we were, at the crack of Jesusweptit'sfuckingcold, and off to Belmont to watch B-Henry T getting trussed, masked, and tied to an immovable object.
Yup: Blakey had a fencing tournament. And bloody fun it was too. Luscious and I were hugely proud, watching the B-boy take the field (line? battle? bit of the gymnasium?) against taller, more experienced fencers, some of whom were decked out in their Australian representative uniforms. Fencing is a brutally fast, physical sport, and after three hours of duelling he was limping, bruised, exhausted, and with his hands covered in nicks and scratches, but he was happy as a teensy Athos and so were we. It was the first time we'd seen him in competitive action, and we were instantly hooked. Next time he has a tournament, we are so there, and it looks like we've finally found a sport we can both watch come Olympics time (Lyn hates boxing and I don't consider Love, Actually a sport...)
And, you know, we happen to think he looks rather dashing in his kit.
Is that a sword in your hand, or... oh, right, it's called a foil....
AND LASTLY
Can anyone explain what goes on inside my children's heads?
TWO LEGS GOOD, THREE LEGS OHHHHH BABYYYYY......
I believe this book will stand the test of time, alongside such classics as Alice Does Wonderland and Harvey: Portrait of a Serial Killer......
As discovered by the one and only Jasoni, the book cover that proves that my classic is not necessarily your classic.....
I believe this book will stand the test of time, alongside such classics as Alice Does Wonderland and Harvey: Portrait of a Serial Killer......
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
GEORGE CARLIN
Goddamn, it’s been a year for losing genius’. Now George Carlin is dead, aged 71. Truth be told, he was never going to outlive George Burns, not with his lifestyle, but still, he was arguably one of the best three or four stand up comedians of the 20th century, and his passing represents a real loss to anybody who appreciates hard-bitten, precise observation. His wasn’t the fluffy nothingness of a Jerry Seinfeld, or the cozy reinforcement of a Tim Allen or Jeff Foxworthy. Carlin trod the same path as the likes of Lenny Bruce, Bill Hicks, and Billy Connolly, challenging the perceptions of his audiences and the structural status quo of the culture around him. He was, by turns, savage, acerbic, loving, and radio-friendly, and yet managed to maintain his rage and sense of damnation through forty years and something like 20-odd albums. And he transcended age: my boys knew him from his appearances in movies like Dogma, Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, and the Bill & Ted movies, and now they want to know more, to hear what he was all about.
I don’t own enough of his work: my predilection for collecting comedy albums on the original vinyl is shown up by Perth’s distance from anywhere meaningful for such endeavours. But what I have is brilliant indeed, and among my list of stuff to be rescued from house fires.
If you’ve not experienced his work before, there are lists of quotes all about. Here’s a couple for starters: here and here
Goddamn, it’s been a year for losing genius’. Now George Carlin is dead, aged 71. Truth be told, he was never going to outlive George Burns, not with his lifestyle, but still, he was arguably one of the best three or four stand up comedians of the 20th century, and his passing represents a real loss to anybody who appreciates hard-bitten, precise observation. His wasn’t the fluffy nothingness of a Jerry Seinfeld, or the cozy reinforcement of a Tim Allen or Jeff Foxworthy. Carlin trod the same path as the likes of Lenny Bruce, Bill Hicks, and Billy Connolly, challenging the perceptions of his audiences and the structural status quo of the culture around him. He was, by turns, savage, acerbic, loving, and radio-friendly, and yet managed to maintain his rage and sense of damnation through forty years and something like 20-odd albums. And he transcended age: my boys knew him from his appearances in movies like Dogma, Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, and the Bill & Ted movies, and now they want to know more, to hear what he was all about.
I don’t own enough of his work: my predilection for collecting comedy albums on the original vinyl is shown up by Perth’s distance from anywhere meaningful for such endeavours. But what I have is brilliant indeed, and among my list of stuff to be rescued from house fires.
If you’ve not experienced his work before, there are lists of quotes all about. Here’s a couple for starters: here and here
SCREENWEST PASS
Damn. Screenwest have decided not to offer Cirque any monetary reward. So the question now becomes: pursue it further as a TV script, or thing about converting it to a novel? Hmmm. One field I know almost nothing about, and the other field everybody else thinks I know nothing about. Spoilt for choice, me……
END OF AHWA MENTORSHIP
Ah, well. It’s been fun. My mentorship period on behalf of the AHWA has come to and end. It’s been great to work with Ben and Jason, and hopefully they’ve picked up a tip or two along the way (Remember: you can learn something from anyone, even if it’s only what not to do…). Now it’s time for them to test their work against the refined sense of editors everywhere, and get their stories into as many hands as possible.
I think they’ll do just fine.
Damn. Screenwest have decided not to offer Cirque any monetary reward. So the question now becomes: pursue it further as a TV script, or thing about converting it to a novel? Hmmm. One field I know almost nothing about, and the other field everybody else thinks I know nothing about. Spoilt for choice, me……
END OF AHWA MENTORSHIP
Ah, well. It’s been fun. My mentorship period on behalf of the AHWA has come to and end. It’s been great to work with Ben and Jason, and hopefully they’ve picked up a tip or two along the way (Remember: you can learn something from anyone, even if it’s only what not to do…). Now it’s time for them to test their work against the refined sense of editors everywhere, and get their stories into as many hands as possible.
I think they’ll do just fine.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
REMIXERS HOWAY!!
The first story in the groovy Remix my Lit project is up at the website and available for remixing. Cut, paste, wibble, handwave, set to interpretive dance, do that shwimmy-shwimmy Star Trek transporter special effect, whatever you like, and send it on to them in order to be part of a very special project.
Direct from Remix-honcho Amy Barker to you:
This is a remixable short story. Write a remixed version and then email it to anthology@creativecommons.org.au for your chance to be published in a hard copy anthology alongside Emily and her original work, along with more of Australia's best writers.
All remixes will be published on the Remix My Lit website.
More stories to come.
www.remixmylit.com
Cherished
by Emily Maguire
This girl I hang out with sometimes wears shiny red polish which draws attention to her ragged nails and sunless skin. Silver bikie rings squat on her stumpy fingers.
Her eye-makeup is always uneven. This is not a fashion statement; she does not flaunt a retro-blue-frosted left eye and a goth-inspired-charcoaled right. It is only that she is easily distracted and so will forget to apply a second coat of mascara on one eye or blend the liner on the other. From a distance it looks fine, but up close the imbalance is off-putting.
Her hair is the colour of dried blood. It smells of chemicals and is stiff to the touch. In a photo taken on her sixteenth birthday it is waist length, shiny and brown. I asked her why she changed it but she only laughed.
When she dances or argues she grows a perspiration moustache. During sex, sweat coats her forehead even if the rest of her remains dry and cool.
A tan would disguise the steel-blue veins radiating from her areolae, but she is not the type to sunbathe topless nor is she a woman familiar with salon treatments. She leaves her disposable razors in my soap dish and her tweezers on the basin.
I think her gums are unhealthy, because one time she borrowed my toothbrush and left behind a smear of pinkish toothpaste at the base of the bristles.
I suggested she buy some new jeans after I overheard a mutual friend make an unflattering comment about the size of her arse, but her new jeans were even tighter. The angry lines they leave on her belly make me think of childbirth.
And yet when she checks her reflection in my bathroom mirror, she smiles like she has caught sight of a beloved friend.
My own story, tentatively entitled Alchymical Romance should be available within the next month or so, along with several others. Far be it from me to tell you how to do your work, but I'm looking forward to seeing who can combine elements from different stories into a new narrative.....
The first story in the groovy Remix my Lit project is up at the website and available for remixing. Cut, paste, wibble, handwave, set to interpretive dance, do that shwimmy-shwimmy Star Trek transporter special effect, whatever you like, and send it on to them in order to be part of a very special project.
Direct from Remix-honcho Amy Barker to you:
This is a remixable short story. Write a remixed version and then email it to anthology@creativecommons.org.au for your chance to be published in a hard copy anthology alongside Emily and her original work, along with more of Australia's best writers.
All remixes will be published on the Remix My Lit website.
More stories to come.
www.remixmylit.com
Cherished
by Emily Maguire
This girl I hang out with sometimes wears shiny red polish which draws attention to her ragged nails and sunless skin. Silver bikie rings squat on her stumpy fingers.
Her eye-makeup is always uneven. This is not a fashion statement; she does not flaunt a retro-blue-frosted left eye and a goth-inspired-charcoaled right. It is only that she is easily distracted and so will forget to apply a second coat of mascara on one eye or blend the liner on the other. From a distance it looks fine, but up close the imbalance is off-putting.
Her hair is the colour of dried blood. It smells of chemicals and is stiff to the touch. In a photo taken on her sixteenth birthday it is waist length, shiny and brown. I asked her why she changed it but she only laughed.
When she dances or argues she grows a perspiration moustache. During sex, sweat coats her forehead even if the rest of her remains dry and cool.
A tan would disguise the steel-blue veins radiating from her areolae, but she is not the type to sunbathe topless nor is she a woman familiar with salon treatments. She leaves her disposable razors in my soap dish and her tweezers on the basin.
I think her gums are unhealthy, because one time she borrowed my toothbrush and left behind a smear of pinkish toothpaste at the base of the bristles.
I suggested she buy some new jeans after I overheard a mutual friend make an unflattering comment about the size of her arse, but her new jeans were even tighter. The angry lines they leave on her belly make me think of childbirth.
And yet when she checks her reflection in my bathroom mirror, she smiles like she has caught sight of a beloved friend.
My own story, tentatively entitled Alchymical Romance should be available within the next month or so, along with several others. Far be it from me to tell you how to do your work, but I'm looking forward to seeing who can combine elements from different stories into a new narrative.....
SPONGECONNOR BONNORPANTS
So, I'm not suggesting my three year old son watches too much Spongebob, but this morning, as a reward for working so hard in the garden, we take the family to McDonalds for a late breakfast.
The Mccheckoutchick asks us what we'd like to order. Connor looks the pictures behind her head and shouts "A crabby patty!"
Father dissolves in laughter. Mcregisterjockey looks blank. Father rofls even more.....
So, I'm not suggesting my three year old son watches too much Spongebob, but this morning, as a reward for working so hard in the garden, we take the family to McDonalds for a late breakfast.
The Mccheckoutchick asks us what we'd like to order. Connor looks the pictures behind her head and shouts "A crabby patty!"
Father dissolves in laughter. Mcregisterjockey looks blank. Father rofls even more.....
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
DEATH OF A MONSTROUS LEGEND
Goddammit. Stan Winston is dead.
This guy scared the willies out of me in so many ways, at so many times. He was at the very peak of monster making, between the stop motion stuff that we loved and forgave despite its awkwardness and the CGI blowouts that make modern spectaculars so ho hum (when anything is possible, then everything becomes mundane...). He ranks with Ray Harryhausen, Willis O'Brien, Rick Baker and Jim Henson as one of the greatest exponents of visual suspension of disbelief I've ever experienced. His honour roll is mind-boggling: Iron Man, Aliens, Constantine, Predator, Leviathan, and on and on and on. If you're an SF/adventure movie lover, the full list will make you smile a smile of much goofyness.
If you're not familiar with his work, Rob Hood has a fantastic gallery of images, as well as some of his own thoughts.
62. Too damn soon.
Goddammit. Stan Winston is dead.
This guy scared the willies out of me in so many ways, at so many times. He was at the very peak of monster making, between the stop motion stuff that we loved and forgave despite its awkwardness and the CGI blowouts that make modern spectaculars so ho hum (when anything is possible, then everything becomes mundane...). He ranks with Ray Harryhausen, Willis O'Brien, Rick Baker and Jim Henson as one of the greatest exponents of visual suspension of disbelief I've ever experienced. His honour roll is mind-boggling: Iron Man, Aliens, Constantine, Predator, Leviathan, and on and on and on. If you're an SF/adventure movie lover, the full list will make you smile a smile of much goofyness.
If you're not familiar with his work, Rob Hood has a fantastic gallery of images, as well as some of his own thoughts.
62. Too damn soon.
BOOKS UP THE WAZOO!
It never rains but it pours books, which is why you have to carry a heavy duty umbrella......
No sooner does my contributor copy of Aurealis 40 arrive in the mail than I come home from work last night to find that the Clarionite of Cool, Peter M Ball, in happiness at how much we loved his last mail-gift, has sent us another Etgar Keret volume, The Bus Driver Who Wanted to Be God and Other Stories. Luscious, in response to a conversation earlier in the day, has returned from the library with a Will Self book for me to sample (Dorian, for those who might be interested). And to top it all off, a big box marked 'Harper Collins' arrived, containing two contributor copies of Dreaming Again, ready for me to riffle through, sniff, and rub all over my naked body!
And lookie here: me with a day off work today :)
It never rains but it pours books, which is why you have to carry a heavy duty umbrella......
No sooner does my contributor copy of Aurealis 40 arrive in the mail than I come home from work last night to find that the Clarionite of Cool, Peter M Ball, in happiness at how much we loved his last mail-gift, has sent us another Etgar Keret volume, The Bus Driver Who Wanted to Be God and Other Stories. Luscious, in response to a conversation earlier in the day, has returned from the library with a Will Self book for me to sample (Dorian, for those who might be interested). And to top it all off, a big box marked 'Harper Collins' arrived, containing two contributor copies of Dreaming Again, ready for me to riffle through, sniff, and rub all over my naked body!
And lookie here: me with a day off work today :)
Monday, June 16, 2008
RECEIVED
In today's mail, my contributor copy of Aurealis#40, containing my story Never Grow Old. Apart from your humble correspondent, there are contributions from, amongst others, three of my favourite Australian authors- Stephen Dedman, Paul Haines, and Adam Browne. You'll be hard pressed to find a better trilogy of talent in an Australian magazine this year. Added to which, editor Stuart Mayne has answered my ego-boost prayers and awarded me another illustration by the sublimely talented Adam Duncan (who gave me the wondrous illo for Father Muerte & The Joy of Warfare in issue 37), so I'm a happy writer-guy indeed.
Go. Buy. Read.
OTHER PEOPLE'S WORK
So it's one of those periods where my own work sits forlornly on a shelf because I'm hip-deep in the works of others: my AHWA mentorship has entered its final fortnight, which saddens me because I've had a fabulous time working with Jason & Ben; and I am now the proud renter of three foolscap files of stories containing something like 100 stories to read in the next couple of weeks as part of a secret squirrel project I'm involved in. So there's little to report in regards to my own advancements of word upon page.
Instead, I offer this moment of memage, gakked from Luscious, who gakked it in turn from Martin Livings-
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your winter. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to.
Well, I'm not going to tag anyone, but seven songs? I can do that:
1. Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night- The Fratellis. I first heard The Fratellis as part of the soundtrack for the movie Hot Fuzz, where they contributed a rocking cover of T-Rex's Solid Gold, Easy Action and their own composition, Baby Fratelli. It was enough for me to eventually get around to downloading their debut album Costello Music. And every track is a winner: stomping, infectious anthems that recall the best moments of bands like Little Feat, The Sweet, and the Small Faces. Honestly, I could have picked anything from this album- I'm listening to it at least once a day at the moment- but this is arguably my favourite (just shading songs like Chelsea Dagger and Country Boys & City Girls. Loving it. And now I have their follow-up, Here We Stand. And I'm loving that too. (Acid Jazz Singer already stands out)
2. Jump (They Say)- David Bowie. Grant Watson is responsible for this one, cutting a 'Best of Post-89' disc for me after a discussion of the man's music. An ode to loss and despair in the wake of his brother's death, it has become easily my favourite Bowie track because it's one of the few moments where he comes out from behind the theatre and speaks directly from his pain. And there's an amazing streak of gallows humour that runs through this, bleak and self-hating and immensely powerful. Like the best of Bowie's work, it's astonishingly tuneful, which means you can love this solely as a piece of music without grasping the deeper meanings behind the lyrics. It's a truly masterful song, and another on my high rotation.
3. Blood Theme- Daniel Licht. Oh, I am so into Dexter right now. I own the first three books, I've bought the first season DVD box set, I even entered and won a Hachette Livre contest and scored another Season One box set, a t-shirt, and a blood spatter kit. And the soundtrack. Hotdamn, I love the soundtrack to the series. It's schizophrenic: the first half based around a series of swinging Cuban dance tunes (and the abominable Andy Williams Born Free), the second half comprised of the creepy and haunting score by composer Daniel Licht. Again, I could have chosen any of Licht's pieces, but Blood Theme, which closes each episode, has an extra quality- a sense of finality, a surety that the other pieces, by nature of their place within the show's framework, lack.
4. The Ballad of Dwight Frye- Alice Cooper. I've been a huge fan of Cooper since seeing a theatre group perform a dance routine to Welcome To My Nightmare when I was 11. Bit by bit I've collected his catalogue, and some tracks, particularly from his early, pre-solo career, stand out as truly bizarre theatrical experiences: tracks like Halo of Flies and Desperado are incredible. I've loved this song since first hearing- I'm a Dwight Frye fan, and my story The Ballad of Henry Renfield (from the upcoming Monster Noir) was written very much as homage to it.
5. Death of a Clown- Kinks. Another song that has inspired my own work, in this case the premise and first episode of my TV series Cirque, which I pitched for the recent Screenwest TV Awards. Ray Davies is a beautiful writer of musical narrative, and there's so much mourning and loss in this song that it grips me from beginning to end no matter how often I listen to it. Something is lost by the song's narrator, beyond the death of the main charatcer: some sense of life, of immortality, of innocence. I know I'll spend years trying to unravel the layers in this one, and applying that understanding to my own work.
6. Vicious Traditions- The Veils. Another song we discovered via the fillums. In this case, the Costner/Hurt vehicle Mr Brooks, a movie the Lyn and I love. Yeah, it's got a couple of cop outs towards the end, but until then it's fantastic, and this amazingly haunting song turns what might be a somewhat naff moment into a scene of true terror and loss. Taken on its own it stands out from the rest of the Veils' somewhat mundane catalogue as one of those moments where somebody had an idea that went against the usual grain, took to it without fear of failure, and created something special.
7. The Dead Eyes Opened- Headless Chickens. It's a dance tune set to a fake 30s radio story about an animate severed head on top of a bonfire. What else do you need? It's loopy, funny, weird, and bloody catchy. Loves it, I do.
And you know, cos Battlists have the habit:
8. My Weakness- Moby. It's no sceret that I find my day job spiritually exhausting. It's deadsoul stuff, pointless adminsitrative database pounding that counts only for the time it takes me away from writing. There are train trips home where all I want is to sink into a soundscape and let someone else carry me into the clouds. And that would be Moby. Of several I could have chosen (I love The Sky Is Broken just as much), I chose this one because it was first on the playlist today.
There you go. If you do this one yourself, let me know in the comments or link back.
In today's mail, my contributor copy of Aurealis#40, containing my story Never Grow Old. Apart from your humble correspondent, there are contributions from, amongst others, three of my favourite Australian authors- Stephen Dedman, Paul Haines, and Adam Browne. You'll be hard pressed to find a better trilogy of talent in an Australian magazine this year. Added to which, editor Stuart Mayne has answered my ego-boost prayers and awarded me another illustration by the sublimely talented Adam Duncan (who gave me the wondrous illo for Father Muerte & The Joy of Warfare in issue 37), so I'm a happy writer-guy indeed.
Go. Buy. Read.
OTHER PEOPLE'S WORK
So it's one of those periods where my own work sits forlornly on a shelf because I'm hip-deep in the works of others: my AHWA mentorship has entered its final fortnight, which saddens me because I've had a fabulous time working with Jason & Ben; and I am now the proud renter of three foolscap files of stories containing something like 100 stories to read in the next couple of weeks as part of a secret squirrel project I'm involved in. So there's little to report in regards to my own advancements of word upon page.
Instead, I offer this moment of memage, gakked from Luscious, who gakked it in turn from Martin Livings-
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your winter. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to.
Well, I'm not going to tag anyone, but seven songs? I can do that:
1. Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night- The Fratellis. I first heard The Fratellis as part of the soundtrack for the movie Hot Fuzz, where they contributed a rocking cover of T-Rex's Solid Gold, Easy Action and their own composition, Baby Fratelli. It was enough for me to eventually get around to downloading their debut album Costello Music. And every track is a winner: stomping, infectious anthems that recall the best moments of bands like Little Feat, The Sweet, and the Small Faces. Honestly, I could have picked anything from this album- I'm listening to it at least once a day at the moment- but this is arguably my favourite (just shading songs like Chelsea Dagger and Country Boys & City Girls. Loving it. And now I have their follow-up, Here We Stand. And I'm loving that too. (Acid Jazz Singer already stands out)
2. Jump (They Say)- David Bowie. Grant Watson is responsible for this one, cutting a 'Best of Post-89' disc for me after a discussion of the man's music. An ode to loss and despair in the wake of his brother's death, it has become easily my favourite Bowie track because it's one of the few moments where he comes out from behind the theatre and speaks directly from his pain. And there's an amazing streak of gallows humour that runs through this, bleak and self-hating and immensely powerful. Like the best of Bowie's work, it's astonishingly tuneful, which means you can love this solely as a piece of music without grasping the deeper meanings behind the lyrics. It's a truly masterful song, and another on my high rotation.
3. Blood Theme- Daniel Licht. Oh, I am so into Dexter right now. I own the first three books, I've bought the first season DVD box set, I even entered and won a Hachette Livre contest and scored another Season One box set, a t-shirt, and a blood spatter kit. And the soundtrack. Hotdamn, I love the soundtrack to the series. It's schizophrenic: the first half based around a series of swinging Cuban dance tunes (and the abominable Andy Williams Born Free), the second half comprised of the creepy and haunting score by composer Daniel Licht. Again, I could have chosen any of Licht's pieces, but Blood Theme, which closes each episode, has an extra quality- a sense of finality, a surety that the other pieces, by nature of their place within the show's framework, lack.
4. The Ballad of Dwight Frye- Alice Cooper. I've been a huge fan of Cooper since seeing a theatre group perform a dance routine to Welcome To My Nightmare when I was 11. Bit by bit I've collected his catalogue, and some tracks, particularly from his early, pre-solo career, stand out as truly bizarre theatrical experiences: tracks like Halo of Flies and Desperado are incredible. I've loved this song since first hearing- I'm a Dwight Frye fan, and my story The Ballad of Henry Renfield (from the upcoming Monster Noir) was written very much as homage to it.
5. Death of a Clown- Kinks. Another song that has inspired my own work, in this case the premise and first episode of my TV series Cirque, which I pitched for the recent Screenwest TV Awards. Ray Davies is a beautiful writer of musical narrative, and there's so much mourning and loss in this song that it grips me from beginning to end no matter how often I listen to it. Something is lost by the song's narrator, beyond the death of the main charatcer: some sense of life, of immortality, of innocence. I know I'll spend years trying to unravel the layers in this one, and applying that understanding to my own work.
6. Vicious Traditions- The Veils. Another song we discovered via the fillums. In this case, the Costner/Hurt vehicle Mr Brooks, a movie the Lyn and I love. Yeah, it's got a couple of cop outs towards the end, but until then it's fantastic, and this amazingly haunting song turns what might be a somewhat naff moment into a scene of true terror and loss. Taken on its own it stands out from the rest of the Veils' somewhat mundane catalogue as one of those moments where somebody had an idea that went against the usual grain, took to it without fear of failure, and created something special.
7. The Dead Eyes Opened- Headless Chickens. It's a dance tune set to a fake 30s radio story about an animate severed head on top of a bonfire. What else do you need? It's loopy, funny, weird, and bloody catchy. Loves it, I do.
And you know, cos Battlists have the habit:
8. My Weakness- Moby. It's no sceret that I find my day job spiritually exhausting. It's deadsoul stuff, pointless adminsitrative database pounding that counts only for the time it takes me away from writing. There are train trips home where all I want is to sink into a soundscape and let someone else carry me into the clouds. And that would be Moby. Of several I could have chosen (I love The Sky Is Broken just as much), I chose this one because it was first on the playlist today.
There you go. If you do this one yourself, let me know in the comments or link back.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
THE COOLEST ADVICE EVER
Morning tea today was a going away party for a fellow in our team who has decided to call it quits now that he’s turned 70.
Yeah. Seventy. And you should hear the plans he has for what he’s going to do next.
So when he was asked what the secret was to his energiser-bunny level of enthusiasm and passion, he gave this reply, which is too damn cool not to share:
Always have something you can’t give up on.
I should be half this cool at his age.
OH DEAR
Overheard at work today
"It’s Detective Goran, not Inspector. He’ll never get promoted with his attitude."
Where do you start......?
Morning tea today was a going away party for a fellow in our team who has decided to call it quits now that he’s turned 70.
Yeah. Seventy. And you should hear the plans he has for what he’s going to do next.
So when he was asked what the secret was to his energiser-bunny level of enthusiasm and passion, he gave this reply, which is too damn cool not to share:
Always have something you can’t give up on.
I should be half this cool at his age.
OH DEAR
Overheard at work today
"It’s Detective Goran, not Inspector. He’ll never get promoted with his attitude."
Where do you start......?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
TO LEE BATTERSBY, THE WORLD’S GREATEST UNPUBLISHED 18 YEAR OLD, BEST WISHES AND GOOD LUCK, ALGIS BUDRYS
Back in 1989, I did a couple of things in quick succession: read Algis Budrys’ novel Michaelmas and discovered the Writers Of The Future contest, which Budrys was co-ordinating. In those pre-net days (how did we ever survive?) you had to write in to get details of the competition. So I did- a gushing half-query, half-fan letter in which I signed myself off as ‘the world’s greatest unpublished 18 year old’.
Shaddup. I was young, okay?
In due course, back came the guidelines sheet. But also: a copy of the latest Writers Of The Future anthology, with an inscription inside— the title of this post.
Was I inspired? I had a story in the mail within a fortnight. It didn’t win, it didn’t even place. But the fuse was lit. Over the next 19 years I’ve written and performed stand-up comedy and one-act plays; published poetry, cartoons, reviews, interviews and short stories; completed my first novel; written a feature film and a television series pitch; and on and on and so forth. The whole of my bibliography, set into motion by an act of kindness.
In 2001, after several years away doing other things, I entered the Writers of the Future competition for the second time, and became the first Western Australian to win. In August of 2002, I flew to LA as part of my prize, where I was going to be able to meet Budrys and tell him, face to face, what he’d inspired in me. To make things even better, before I flew out, I sold and saw published a reworked version of that story I’d originally written back in 89 (there’s a hint, kids. Never throw anything out….). It’s still archived: you can read it here. Sadly, Budrys fell ill, and so we never met, but I was able to tell the story, and have it relayed to him.
Last night, as reported over at Ed Gorman’s blog amongst others, Algis Budrys died of cancer, aged 77. We never did get to meet, but he was, and always will be, a central figure in my karass. He was a writer of important works: Michaelmas is a major SF novel and unarguably one of the major precursors of cyberpunk, and Who? is an astonishingly humanist reworking of the cold war/spy thriller. But more than that—he was an inspirational and kindly figure who will be remembered by a generation of writers for the hand he held out to them along the way.
Vale.
Back in 1989, I did a couple of things in quick succession: read Algis Budrys’ novel Michaelmas and discovered the Writers Of The Future contest, which Budrys was co-ordinating. In those pre-net days (how did we ever survive?) you had to write in to get details of the competition. So I did- a gushing half-query, half-fan letter in which I signed myself off as ‘the world’s greatest unpublished 18 year old’.
Shaddup. I was young, okay?
In due course, back came the guidelines sheet. But also: a copy of the latest Writers Of The Future anthology, with an inscription inside— the title of this post.
Was I inspired? I had a story in the mail within a fortnight. It didn’t win, it didn’t even place. But the fuse was lit. Over the next 19 years I’ve written and performed stand-up comedy and one-act plays; published poetry, cartoons, reviews, interviews and short stories; completed my first novel; written a feature film and a television series pitch; and on and on and so forth. The whole of my bibliography, set into motion by an act of kindness.
In 2001, after several years away doing other things, I entered the Writers of the Future competition for the second time, and became the first Western Australian to win. In August of 2002, I flew to LA as part of my prize, where I was going to be able to meet Budrys and tell him, face to face, what he’d inspired in me. To make things even better, before I flew out, I sold and saw published a reworked version of that story I’d originally written back in 89 (there’s a hint, kids. Never throw anything out….). It’s still archived: you can read it here. Sadly, Budrys fell ill, and so we never met, but I was able to tell the story, and have it relayed to him.
Last night, as reported over at Ed Gorman’s blog amongst others, Algis Budrys died of cancer, aged 77. We never did get to meet, but he was, and always will be, a central figure in my karass. He was a writer of important works: Michaelmas is a major SF novel and unarguably one of the major precursors of cyberpunk, and Who? is an astonishingly humanist reworking of the cold war/spy thriller. But more than that—he was an inspirational and kindly figure who will be remembered by a generation of writers for the hand he held out to them along the way.
Vale.
HOW TO BREAK A FATHER’S HEART IN ONE EASY LESSON
I worked overtime yesterday, which meant I left the house at 6.30am, just after Connor woke up, and didn’t return until 9pm, long after he’d gone to sleep. This morning, he climbed into our bed at 5.40 and only peeled himself off me to eat breakfast and allow me to get dressed. No way was this little boy going to be looked after by his big brother while Lyn ran me to the train station: along he came for the ride. And cried all the way, and wouldn’t let me go when I leaned in his door for a goodbye hug. And then, when I said ‘I love you’, what was his reply?
No you don’t.
bdoombdoombdoombskkkkkkkkkktinkletinkle
I worked overtime yesterday, which meant I left the house at 6.30am, just after Connor woke up, and didn’t return until 9pm, long after he’d gone to sleep. This morning, he climbed into our bed at 5.40 and only peeled himself off me to eat breakfast and allow me to get dressed. No way was this little boy going to be looked after by his big brother while Lyn ran me to the train station: along he came for the ride. And cried all the way, and wouldn’t let me go when I leaned in his door for a goodbye hug. And then, when I said ‘I love you’, what was his reply?
No you don’t.
bdoombdoombdoombskkkkkkkkkktinkletinkle
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
WHO SAYS I'M BORED?
Gakked from Tehani:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page, pick an image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into this mosaic maker.
The Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name (Okay, I don't actually have a flickr name, so I just used my surname).
1. Lee Plaza Piano, 2. Italians, 3. Wind Surfing at Safety Bay, 4. Burgundy Moth, 5. Audrey Tatou #2!, 6. Newcastle Brown Sunset, 7. Atrani (Italy), 8. summer pudding, 9. The writer's work, 10. Lee & Lyn Battersby, 11. The Outsider (cropped), 12. Battersby Junction
Gakked from Tehani:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page, pick an image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into this mosaic maker.
The Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name (Okay, I don't actually have a flickr name, so I just used my surname).
1. Lee Plaza Piano, 2. Italians, 3. Wind Surfing at Safety Bay, 4. Burgundy Moth, 5. Audrey Tatou #2!, 6. Newcastle Brown Sunset, 7. Atrani (Italy), 8. summer pudding, 9. The writer's work, 10. Lee & Lyn Battersby, 11. The Outsider (cropped), 12. Battersby Junction
IN COMICS-ABOUT-SPEAKING-DINOSAURS NEWS.....
Dinosaur Comics still makes me cackle like a witch on acid.
IN BASKETBALL NEWS
Just found out that Adelaide 36ers centre Luke Schenscher has been cut from the Boomers squad for the Human Rights Free Tibet Olympics later this year.
Luke is Battfam by association, being brother and in-law to the wonderful Kate & Jason Fischer, so on this omission by the possibly-drunk-and-doing-it-on-a-dare Brian Goorjian I can only get all Flying High jive-speak and say shiiiiiiiiitttttt.
Here's hoping he responds in the best way possible and posts triple doubles against all teams bar the Wildcats next season.
Dinosaur Comics still makes me cackle like a witch on acid.
IN BASKETBALL NEWS
Just found out that Adelaide 36ers centre Luke Schenscher has been cut from the Boomers squad for the Human Rights Free Tibet Olympics later this year.
Luke is Battfam by association, being brother and in-law to the wonderful Kate & Jason Fischer, so on this omission by the possibly-drunk-and-doing-it-on-a-dare Brian Goorjian I can only get all Flying High jive-speak and say shiiiiiiiiitttttt.
Here's hoping he responds in the best way possible and posts triple doubles against all teams bar the Wildcats next season.
HAND ME MY DOOZERS, WOMAN!
You know, if Hoodwinked wasn't such a disappointing pile of poo, this would be news guaranteed to make most of the Battfam make that stupid squee noise so beloved of certain fan types.
I'll settle instead for a small Wallace-at-the-thought-of-cheese-type hand wave.
You know, if Hoodwinked wasn't such a disappointing pile of poo, this would be news guaranteed to make most of the Battfam make that stupid squee noise so beloved of certain fan types.
I'll settle instead for a small Wallace-at-the-thought-of-cheese-type hand wave.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
WHO'S A CLEVER BOY, THEN?
One of the most outlandishly talented of my Clarion South students, Peter Ball (he of the unicorn porn physics) has a story up at Fantasy Magazine this week.
Like the man himself, it's proof of the virtues of having a weird wriggling thing for a brain.
Read it here.
One of the most outlandishly talented of my Clarion South students, Peter Ball (he of the unicorn porn physics) has a story up at Fantasy Magazine this week.
Like the man himself, it's proof of the virtues of having a weird wriggling thing for a brain.
Read it here.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
COZ IT AIN'T A SICK DAY WITHOUT A MEME
Gakked from Stephen Dedman
Go here and keep hitting random quotes until you get five that resonate with you, then post them in your journal.
I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody
Bill Cosby (1937 - )
It is what you learn after you know it all that counts
John Wooden (1910 - )
I was thought to be 'stuck up.' I wasn't. I was just sure of myself. This is and always has been an unforgivable quality to the unsure
Bette Davis(1908 - 1989), The Lonely Life, 1962
Why is my existence so perfect with dark places? And why do I no longer care?
Lemuel W. H. Ranier
That's just the way things go. We meet people, get to know them and then they get up and leave us behind
Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata, Animal Crossing: Wild World
OR TWO
From Angelaina
What was the last story you read?
The first draft of Lyn's new story The Found House. Last (pre-)published story: The Immaculate Conception by Matt Hults, in the galley of The Beast Within
What was the last poem you read?
Aesculapius in the Underworld by Ryan G Van Cleave, in Year's Best Fantasy & Horror 15.
What was the last comic you read?
Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America by Jeph Loeb and a cast of thousands
What was the last movie you watched?
Mister Brooks, for the 2nd time, on DVD
What song are you listening to now? Say something about it--what it means to you, who introduced you to it, something like that.
Vicious Traditions by The Veils. A beautifully haunting song that stands out a mile from the rest of their work.
What's your guilty-reading pleasure?
It used to be Dick Francis novels, but I've since stopped feeling guilty.
Say something about the last poem you wrote!
I wrote two in a day whilst at work recently, image-canoodlings that surprised me by becoming coherent and visually sound.
Say something about a story you're writing now!
Comfort represents a departure from my recent work: a change in tense, POV, narratorial voice, and based very much around an interior journey rather than exterior action. It'll take some getting right, but it'll be nice to change direction once again.
If you were a fictional character, who would be writing you?
A sadistic bastard.
And a link to your favorite magazine, because they probably need your help. ;)
Aurealis.
Gakked from Stephen Dedman
Go here and keep hitting random quotes until you get five that resonate with you, then post them in your journal.
I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody
Bill Cosby (1937 - )
It is what you learn after you know it all that counts
John Wooden (1910 - )
I was thought to be 'stuck up.' I wasn't. I was just sure of myself. This is and always has been an unforgivable quality to the unsure
Bette Davis(1908 - 1989), The Lonely Life, 1962
Why is my existence so perfect with dark places? And why do I no longer care?
Lemuel W. H. Ranier
That's just the way things go. We meet people, get to know them and then they get up and leave us behind
Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata, Animal Crossing: Wild World
OR TWO
From Angelaina
What was the last story you read?
The first draft of Lyn's new story The Found House. Last (pre-)published story: The Immaculate Conception by Matt Hults, in the galley of The Beast Within
What was the last poem you read?
Aesculapius in the Underworld by Ryan G Van Cleave, in Year's Best Fantasy & Horror 15.
What was the last comic you read?
Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America by Jeph Loeb and a cast of thousands
What was the last movie you watched?
Mister Brooks, for the 2nd time, on DVD
What song are you listening to now? Say something about it--what it means to you, who introduced you to it, something like that.
Vicious Traditions by The Veils. A beautifully haunting song that stands out a mile from the rest of their work.
What's your guilty-reading pleasure?
It used to be Dick Francis novels, but I've since stopped feeling guilty.
Say something about the last poem you wrote!
I wrote two in a day whilst at work recently, image-canoodlings that surprised me by becoming coherent and visually sound.
Say something about a story you're writing now!
Comfort represents a departure from my recent work: a change in tense, POV, narratorial voice, and based very much around an interior journey rather than exterior action. It'll take some getting right, but it'll be nice to change direction once again.
If you were a fictional character, who would be writing you?
A sadistic bastard.
And a link to your favorite magazine, because they probably need your help. ;)
Aurealis.
I HAVE AMBITIONS OF BECOMING A BACTERIA....
Reprinted with the author's permission: an email received from the uberkid himself, Jasoni Fischerio:
At a recent writing group I was accused of having "Lee Battersby Disease". I should explain, I tendered a story for critting in which the protagonist is immortal and has supernatural powers etc, and this one bloke drew a long bow and compared Raoul the minotaur to Father Muerte (apples and oranges anyone?). I told him I actually knew you personally. Insert uncomfortable awkward pause......
By which I can only assume that Lee Battersby Disease makes your story middle-aged, overweight, and yet beguilingly handsome :)
Reprinted with the author's permission: an email received from the uberkid himself, Jasoni Fischerio:
At a recent writing group I was accused of having "Lee Battersby Disease". I should explain, I tendered a story for critting in which the protagonist is immortal and has supernatural powers etc, and this one bloke drew a long bow and compared Raoul the minotaur to Father Muerte (apples and oranges anyone?). I told him I actually knew you personally. Insert uncomfortable awkward pause......
By which I can only assume that Lee Battersby Disease makes your story middle-aged, overweight, and yet beguilingly handsome :)
A SENSE OF ACHIEVEMENT
Nobody remembers the war against the Sirk. Hardly anybody knew it was happening. The Governments of the world covered it up, used it as the excuse for their own conflicts, their own schemes of expansion and death. But no matter how many of our own we killed, there was always one common aim: destroy the Sirk. Wipe them out. They came to us as refugees, begging our help. In return, we murdered them in their millions. Is it any wonder the survivors hide?
So begins Cirque, the TV show project I pitched for the Screenwest TV Awards recently. In the last couple of weeks I've also: sent my Australia Council grants application; sent my 2009 KSP Residency application; completed the first draft of Comfort, my submission to the Datlow/Mamatas-edited Hauntings anthology; proof-read the galley of my The Beast Within story The Claws of Native Ghosts; completed the fourth draft of The Possession of Mister Snopes, my submission to the upcoming Interstitial anthology; been pencilled in as editor for the 4th issue of the AHWAs new fiction magazine Midnight Echoes; and continued my mentoring of Jason Crowe and Ben Szumskyj.
I feel a bit like a writer.
Nobody remembers the war against the Sirk. Hardly anybody knew it was happening. The Governments of the world covered it up, used it as the excuse for their own conflicts, their own schemes of expansion and death. But no matter how many of our own we killed, there was always one common aim: destroy the Sirk. Wipe them out. They came to us as refugees, begging our help. In return, we murdered them in their millions. Is it any wonder the survivors hide?
So begins Cirque, the TV show project I pitched for the Screenwest TV Awards recently. In the last couple of weeks I've also: sent my Australia Council grants application; sent my 2009 KSP Residency application; completed the first draft of Comfort, my submission to the Datlow/Mamatas-edited Hauntings anthology; proof-read the galley of my The Beast Within story The Claws of Native Ghosts; completed the fourth draft of The Possession of Mister Snopes, my submission to the upcoming Interstitial anthology; been pencilled in as editor for the 4th issue of the AHWAs new fiction magazine Midnight Echoes; and continued my mentoring of Jason Crowe and Ben Szumskyj.
I feel a bit like a writer.
A REMINDER
Only a couple of days left to get your entries in for the Katharine Susannah Prichard SF/F Competition. Check out the details one final time:
The Katharine Susannah Prichard Speculative Fiction Awards 2008
Closing date: 5pm Friday May 30, 2008
Words: Minimum 1500, maximum 3500.
All forms of Speculative Fiction welcome.
2 Sections: OPEN and the Shire of Mundaring National Young Writers Awards (20 years and under)
PRIZES
Open: First $200, Second $50
Young Writers Awards: First $75, Second $25
Highly Commended and Commended Certificates will also be awarded.
Awards announced and presented at KSP Writers’ Centre, Sun August 17, 2008.
No entry form required
CONDITIONS OF ENTRY
1. Entry fees: Open - $7.50 per story, to be paid by cheque or money order only. Young Writers Awards – no entry fee
2. Work to be original, unpublished, not received an award in another competition and not under consideration elsewhere from the time of entry in these awards until the official announcement of winners.
3. Limit of three stories per author. Individual stories cannot be entered in more than one section
4. Entries to be typewritten, double-spaced on one side only of A4 white paper, with pages numbered, a wide left-hand margin, and story title on each page. A good photocopy is acceptable. Post in an A4 size envelope.
5. To ensure anonymity NO WRITERS’ NAMES TO APPEAR ON MANUSCRIPT (MS). Please attach a COVER SHEET with name of story, word count, section entered, and age if Young Writer
6. On a SEPARATE SHEET please attach form below
7. MSs will only be returned if adequately stamped self-addressed envelope (SSAE) of sufficient size is included. Other manuscripts will be destroyed after the competition, so keep a copy of your work.
8. Include a business-sized SSAE if you would like only a results sheet
9. Award winners will be notified by phone or mail prior to announcement, when those able to attend will be invited to read excerpts from their stories
10. Members of the KSP Foundation Management Committee are not allowed to enter
11. The judges’ decisions are final, and no correspondence will be entered into
12. The KSP Foundation Inc. reserves the right to publish the winning entry or entries in a publication related to KSP should the opportunity occur, in consultation with the author
Send entries to:
KSP Speculative Fiction Awards
11 Old York Road
GREENMOUNT
WA 6056
Entries which do not reflect the stated conditions, or are postmarked later than 5pm May 30, may be disqualified without notice and the fee/s forfeited.
Only a couple of days left to get your entries in for the Katharine Susannah Prichard SF/F Competition. Check out the details one final time:
The Katharine Susannah Prichard Speculative Fiction Awards 2008
Closing date: 5pm Friday May 30, 2008
Words: Minimum 1500, maximum 3500.
All forms of Speculative Fiction welcome.
2 Sections: OPEN and the Shire of Mundaring National Young Writers Awards (20 years and under)
PRIZES
Open: First $200, Second $50
Young Writers Awards: First $75, Second $25
Highly Commended and Commended Certificates will also be awarded.
Awards announced and presented at KSP Writers’ Centre, Sun August 17, 2008.
No entry form required
CONDITIONS OF ENTRY
1. Entry fees: Open - $7.50 per story, to be paid by cheque or money order only. Young Writers Awards – no entry fee
2. Work to be original, unpublished, not received an award in another competition and not under consideration elsewhere from the time of entry in these awards until the official announcement of winners.
3. Limit of three stories per author. Individual stories cannot be entered in more than one section
4. Entries to be typewritten, double-spaced on one side only of A4 white paper, with pages numbered, a wide left-hand margin, and story title on each page. A good photocopy is acceptable. Post in an A4 size envelope.
5. To ensure anonymity NO WRITERS’ NAMES TO APPEAR ON MANUSCRIPT (MS). Please attach a COVER SHEET with name of story, word count, section entered, and age if Young Writer
6. On a SEPARATE SHEET please attach form below
7. MSs will only be returned if adequately stamped self-addressed envelope (SSAE) of sufficient size is included. Other manuscripts will be destroyed after the competition, so keep a copy of your work.
8. Include a business-sized SSAE if you would like only a results sheet
9. Award winners will be notified by phone or mail prior to announcement, when those able to attend will be invited to read excerpts from their stories
10. Members of the KSP Foundation Management Committee are not allowed to enter
11. The judges’ decisions are final, and no correspondence will be entered into
12. The KSP Foundation Inc. reserves the right to publish the winning entry or entries in a publication related to KSP should the opportunity occur, in consultation with the author
Send entries to:
KSP Speculative Fiction Awards
11 Old York Road
GREENMOUNT
WA 6056
Entries which do not reflect the stated conditions, or are postmarked later than 5pm May 30, may be disqualified without notice and the fee/s forfeited.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
REMIX MY LIT, BABY
Good news, musketeers! The fablicious Remix My Lit project has received the funding it deserves, so as long as I deliver a story by July, we'll all be able to see it remixed live by some deeply cool and aspiring young writers at the Melbourne Festival in August.
I'm being joined by such cred-heavy writers as Jeff Noon and Kim Wilkins, so this is going to be a dandy!
Good news, musketeers! The fablicious Remix My Lit project has received the funding it deserves, so as long as I deliver a story by July, we'll all be able to see it remixed live by some deeply cool and aspiring young writers at the Melbourne Festival in August.
I'm being joined by such cred-heavy writers as Jeff Noon and Kim Wilkins, so this is going to be a dandy!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
HARD AT IT
Australia Council Grant application: done.
Residency application: done.
Mentoring: Pretty much up to date- one more story to offer comments and a couple of emails to answer
Currently: hard at work banging away at my application for the Screenwest TV Writer's Award. At the very least, it has enabled me to fulfill one of my silliest ambitions-- titling an entire series of television episodes after Kinks songs.
Still to come: submissions for Hauntings, Interstitial, New Ceres, and the Realms of Fantasy Halloween 2009 issue, as well as my contribution to the Remix My Lit project, and a story to complete my half of a bargain with that creature of strangeness, Jason Fischer? What bargain, you ask? To submit to each other, by the 30th of June, a story entitled Rodeo of the Flesh. Sigh. I pick 'em..... And, of course, the novels.
It's all go.
Australia Council Grant application: done.
Residency application: done.
Mentoring: Pretty much up to date- one more story to offer comments and a couple of emails to answer
Currently: hard at work banging away at my application for the Screenwest TV Writer's Award. At the very least, it has enabled me to fulfill one of my silliest ambitions-- titling an entire series of television episodes after Kinks songs.
Still to come: submissions for Hauntings, Interstitial, New Ceres, and the Realms of Fantasy Halloween 2009 issue, as well as my contribution to the Remix My Lit project, and a story to complete my half of a bargain with that creature of strangeness, Jason Fischer? What bargain, you ask? To submit to each other, by the 30th of June, a story entitled Rodeo of the Flesh. Sigh. I pick 'em..... And, of course, the novels.
It's all go.
I AM MARLON BRANDO WHEN YOUNG AND PRETTY
Well, I mean, obviously, duh....
Well, I mean, obviously, duh....
Your Score: Julius Caesar
You scored 37% = Tragic, 34% = Comic, 24% = Romantic, 51% = Historic
You are Julius Caesar. Set during the mid-March in Rome, Julius Caesar tells the story of the conspiracy against and assassination of Julius Caesar. While not considered one of Shakespeare's Histories, Julius Caesar is a fictionalized account of a true story. What your score tells us about you is that you are most likely a complex individual who, like Brutus, may struggle between the conflicting demands of friendship, loyalty, and patriotism. However, also like Brutus, you are undoubtedly someone to whom your friends often go before making a big decision. You are their rock, and they wouldn't think of doing anything without first asking you what you think. However, like Caesar, himself, you tragic flaw, might be that you don't take advice or criticism well even if it is constructive. Take heed to listen to good advice when you hear it, and for gosh sake... beware the ides of March.
| Link: The Which Shakespeare Play Are You? Test written by macbee |
Monday, May 12, 2008
JESUS? NICE GUY. CATERED MY COUSIN'S WEDDING.
Well, bugger me. I was expecting less than 50%, considering how much I actually know about the Bible. Of course, when questions like How did Jesus feed the 5000? have possible answers like pizza and Chinese take-out, I'm guessing I can't get credits for previous study when I apply for seminary school....
Incidentally, extra points for knowing what I'm quoting in the title of this post....
Well, bugger me. I was expecting less than 50%, considering how much I actually know about the Bible. Of course, when questions like How did Jesus feed the 5000? have possible answers like pizza and Chinese take-out, I'm guessing I can't get credits for previous study when I apply for seminary school....
You know the Bible 79%!
Wow! You are truly a student of the Bible! Some of the questions were difficult, but they didn't slow you down! You know the books, the characters, the events . . . Very impressive!
Ultimate Bible Quiz
Create MySpace Quizzes
Incidentally, extra points for knowing what I'm quoting in the title of this post....
DOING SOMETHING RIGHT
Inside Erin's classroom at school is a big picture of a tree. On that tree are hung a bunch of leaves. One each leaf is the name of one of the children in the class, and the word that best describes them. There are a lot of leaves marked friendliness.
Erin's is marked honesty.
I spent all of last week at home, suffering from the accumulation of large physicall irritants. On Friday morning, at the pleading of my daughter, I levered myself out of bed and accompanied Lyn & Connor to watch Erin receive a merit certificate at her school assembly. Why? For having an enthusiastic attiude to her work and always trying hard to present it neatly and accurately.
Engage proud mode. Proud mode engaged.
THE MOTHER'S DAY CLASSIC: TWICE IN A ROW IS A TRADITION
Let’s get one thing straight: the last thing you’ll see me doing on Father’s Day is getting up at the crack of aaaargh in order to run 3.5 kilometres around Lake Monger in the name of breast cancer research. And I especially won’t be doing it for the second year running, and I definitely won’t shave something in the order of two entire minutes off last year’s time, never mind doing all this less than 24 hours after testing myself against a bunch of huge, burly fellows who want to be train guards, doing high-speed beep tests and dragging mannequins that weigh 13 kilograms more than I do from pillar to posts all afternoon because, well, it just occurred to me that it might be something I wanted to do.
It’s pretty bloody nice being married to Superwoman, you know……
IN WHICH A CERTAIN WIFE AND MOTHER GETS WHAT'S COMING TO HER...
Jehovah's Witnesses don't celebrate Mother's Day. The husbands and children's of Jehovah's Witnesses, on the other hand, occasionally get all bullheaded and insist that the giving of presents and making of meals has nothing to do with what the Jehovah's Witness wants, and that it's a chance for them to express just what she means to them, so she can just sit down, eat her favourite soup for lunch and cottage fish pie for dinner, read the handmade cards, unwrap the handmade paper, and accept the candlestick, goblet, cushion, and painted pot plant that they've given her.
Occasionally, Jehovah's Witnesses have the grace and love to accept such a scenario, and allow that, just maybe, they might deserve the overwhelming love their family has for them.
Which she does :)
Inside Erin's classroom at school is a big picture of a tree. On that tree are hung a bunch of leaves. One each leaf is the name of one of the children in the class, and the word that best describes them. There are a lot of leaves marked friendliness.
Erin's is marked honesty.
I spent all of last week at home, suffering from the accumulation of large physicall irritants. On Friday morning, at the pleading of my daughter, I levered myself out of bed and accompanied Lyn & Connor to watch Erin receive a merit certificate at her school assembly. Why? For having an enthusiastic attiude to her work and always trying hard to present it neatly and accurately.
Engage proud mode. Proud mode engaged.
Our beautiful daughter
THE MOTHER'S DAY CLASSIC: TWICE IN A ROW IS A TRADITION
Let’s get one thing straight: the last thing you’ll see me doing on Father’s Day is getting up at the crack of aaaargh in order to run 3.5 kilometres around Lake Monger in the name of breast cancer research. And I especially won’t be doing it for the second year running, and I definitely won’t shave something in the order of two entire minutes off last year’s time, never mind doing all this less than 24 hours after testing myself against a bunch of huge, burly fellows who want to be train guards, doing high-speed beep tests and dragging mannequins that weigh 13 kilograms more than I do from pillar to posts all afternoon because, well, it just occurred to me that it might be something I wanted to do.
It’s pretty bloody nice being married to Superwoman, you know……
My wife described in one word: phwoaaaarrrrr.
IN WHICH A CERTAIN WIFE AND MOTHER GETS WHAT'S COMING TO HER...
Jehovah's Witnesses don't celebrate Mother's Day. The husbands and children's of Jehovah's Witnesses, on the other hand, occasionally get all bullheaded and insist that the giving of presents and making of meals has nothing to do with what the Jehovah's Witness wants, and that it's a chance for them to express just what she means to them, so she can just sit down, eat her favourite soup for lunch and cottage fish pie for dinner, read the handmade cards, unwrap the handmade paper, and accept the candlestick, goblet, cushion, and painted pot plant that they've given her.
Occasionally, Jehovah's Witnesses have the grace and love to accept such a scenario, and allow that, just maybe, they might deserve the overwhelming love their family has for them.
Which she does :)
OH GOD, MILK I NEVER DRANK JUST CAME OUT OF MY NOSE
So over at the blog of legendary manbeastchild Jason Fischer, he's listed a meme that shows you what your battle cry should be. And his is quite cool: I'm going to pummel you with such reckless abandon, you will wake up from the Matrix
Gnarly, huh? I can see Jasoni crying this out as his crime fighting alter ego, Cannibal Camel.
So, you know, I'm going to try this and come up with a cool battle cry I can yell whilst leaping off buildings in my tights n the dead of night and bringing to justice evil guys with names like The DeathPanther and Murderghost and Bald Guy From Survivor and stuff.
So what do I get?
So over at the blog of legendary manbeastchild Jason Fischer, he's listed a meme that shows you what your battle cry should be. And his is quite cool: I'm going to pummel you with such reckless abandon, you will wake up from the Matrix
Gnarly, huh? I can see Jasoni crying this out as his crime fighting alter ego, Cannibal Camel.
So, you know, I'm going to try this and come up with a cool battle cry I can yell whilst leaping off buildings in my tights n the dead of night and bringing to justice evil guys with names like The DeathPanther and Murderghost and Bald Guy From Survivor and stuff.
So what do I get?
There go my chances of Robert Downey Junior playing me in the movie...
Thursday, May 08, 2008
BY THE WAY
You'll find my story The Claws of Native Ghosts in the latter tome. Go check out the pre-publicity and associated cool stuff.
HOWAY THE... ME?
Busybusybusybusybusybusybusy....
Not much posting in the foreseeable future. Much working and mentoring and working and I promise I'll do those edits sally and working and stressing and mentoring and applying for grants and bugger me I'm exhausted....
AUTOMATIC FOR THE (LONG-SUFFERING) PEOPLE
It's taken a long and painful two years, but finally, we've cracked automatic promotion back to the Championship where, sadly, we belong. With all due respect to the passionate footballing people of Tranmere, Cheltenham, Crewe et al, I hope I never have to think about you again. It's the turn of Leicester fans, now, to weep into their lagers :)
But please, lads, my lovely red-clad footballing lads: just for me, if not for everyone who actually gets to go along and see you play, could we please do something to ensure that I never again have to sit anxiously by my computer waiting for news of whether we've managed to overcome the might of a footballing colossus like bloody Yeovil on the last day of the season?
No pressure.
Busybusybusybusybusybusybusy....
Not much posting in the foreseeable future. Much working and mentoring and working and I promise I'll do those edits sally and working and stressing and mentoring and applying for grants and bugger me I'm exhausted....
AUTOMATIC FOR THE (LONG-SUFFERING) PEOPLE
It's taken a long and painful two years, but finally, we've cracked automatic promotion back to the Championship where, sadly, we belong. With all due respect to the passionate footballing people of Tranmere, Cheltenham, Crewe et al, I hope I never have to think about you again. It's the turn of Leicester fans, now, to weep into their lagers :)
But please, lads, my lovely red-clad footballing lads: just for me, if not for everyone who actually gets to go along and see you play, could we please do something to ensure that I never again have to sit anxiously by my computer waiting for news of whether we've managed to overcome the might of a footballing colossus like bloody Yeovil on the last day of the season?
No pressure.
Friday, May 02, 2008
FRANK WOODLEY: POSSESSED
When Luscious and I were in Adelaide recently, we had the fabulous opportunity to get out and catch some theatre, something we'd been unable to do for far too long. Frank Woodley's new solo show Possessed was on, and I was keen, but Lyn professed to being not a great fan of Lano & Woodley, so we passed. Instead, we bought tickets to a show that was cancelled ten minutes before we were due to take our seats when a crew member electrocuted themselves and blew out every fuse in the hotel where the show was being staged. So it goes.
Tuesday night, thanks to the miracles of teen babysitter and free tickets from my work's social club, we got a second chance. And this time, we went.
Woodley's always been a fantastic performer, combining an amazing physical elasticity with a talent for drawing pathos and sympathy from an audience with subtle changes in stance. And yet, and yet....
Possessed is the story of Louie, a lonely borderline agarophobe who spends his days collecting sailing ship memorabilia and building model ships to hang around his tiny basement apartment. When he is possessed by the ghost of Phoebe O'Leary, an Irish girl who drowned whilst stowing away on the ship whose model he is currently building, it leads them both to question their relationship, their choices, and whether to stay locked up within their own personal purgatories or take the chance on actions that may liberate or damn them.
And much like the Jim Carrey movie The Cable Guy, what could (should?) have been a startlingly good example of one type of story (in the case of the movie, a black comedy. In the case of the play, a heartbreaking and ultimately sweet and hopeful love story) is cut off at the knees by the need to insert 'signature' aspects of the main performers style of comedy. Put more bluntly, there was far too much falling down stairs and not enough character in this one-person tour de force for it to be successful.
Don't get me wrong: Woodley still is, and will remain for some time, a masterful physical performer. But he's not so capable of character acting that I ever quite believed in his ability to transform from male to female mannerisms. His turns as Phoebe feel like just that: comic turns, a chance to mince and flap in a burlesque manner, rather than the assumption of a true alter ego. And, ultimately, the story of Phoebe's fate, and the journey she must take, are so well written and genuinely sad that they outweigh the bulk of the performace: Woodley's stock-in-trade physical buffoonery as the cross-lobed Louie is at odds with the tragedy that unfolds behind him. The end result is neither wholly one thing or another, and left me wondering what the play could have been if performed by a genuine character actor, played straight, or at least, with a greater balance between the sadness and a gentler form of melancholy humour.
When Luscious and I were in Adelaide recently, we had the fabulous opportunity to get out and catch some theatre, something we'd been unable to do for far too long. Frank Woodley's new solo show Possessed was on, and I was keen, but Lyn professed to being not a great fan of Lano & Woodley, so we passed. Instead, we bought tickets to a show that was cancelled ten minutes before we were due to take our seats when a crew member electrocuted themselves and blew out every fuse in the hotel where the show was being staged. So it goes.
Tuesday night, thanks to the miracles of teen babysitter and free tickets from my work's social club, we got a second chance. And this time, we went.
Woodley's always been a fantastic performer, combining an amazing physical elasticity with a talent for drawing pathos and sympathy from an audience with subtle changes in stance. And yet, and yet....
Possessed is the story of Louie, a lonely borderline agarophobe who spends his days collecting sailing ship memorabilia and building model ships to hang around his tiny basement apartment. When he is possessed by the ghost of Phoebe O'Leary, an Irish girl who drowned whilst stowing away on the ship whose model he is currently building, it leads them both to question their relationship, their choices, and whether to stay locked up within their own personal purgatories or take the chance on actions that may liberate or damn them.
And much like the Jim Carrey movie The Cable Guy, what could (should?) have been a startlingly good example of one type of story (in the case of the movie, a black comedy. In the case of the play, a heartbreaking and ultimately sweet and hopeful love story) is cut off at the knees by the need to insert 'signature' aspects of the main performers style of comedy. Put more bluntly, there was far too much falling down stairs and not enough character in this one-person tour de force for it to be successful.
Don't get me wrong: Woodley still is, and will remain for some time, a masterful physical performer. But he's not so capable of character acting that I ever quite believed in his ability to transform from male to female mannerisms. His turns as Phoebe feel like just that: comic turns, a chance to mince and flap in a burlesque manner, rather than the assumption of a true alter ego. And, ultimately, the story of Phoebe's fate, and the journey she must take, are so well written and genuinely sad that they outweigh the bulk of the performace: Woodley's stock-in-trade physical buffoonery as the cross-lobed Louie is at odds with the tragedy that unfolds behind him. The end result is neither wholly one thing or another, and left me wondering what the play could have been if performed by a genuine character actor, played straight, or at least, with a greater balance between the sadness and a gentler form of melancholy humour.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
BECAUSE YOU REALLY WANT TO ENTER THIS
The Katharine Susannah Prichard Speculative Fiction Awards 2008
Closing date: 5pm Friday May 30, 2008
Words: Minimum 1500, maximum 3500. All forms of Speculative Fiction welcome.
2 Sections: OPEN and the
Shire of Mundaring National Young Writers Awards (20 years and under)
PRIZES
OPEN: First $200 Second $50
Young Writers Awards: First $75 Second $25
Highly Commended and Commended Certificates will also be awarded.
Awards announced and presented at
KSP Writers’ Centre, Sun August 17, 2008.
No entry form required
CONDITIONS OF ENTRY
1. Entry fees:
Open - $7.50 per story, to be paid by cheque or money order only
Young Writers Awards – no entry fee
2. Work to be original, unpublished, not received an award in another competition and not under consideration elsewhere from the time of entry in these awards until the official announcement of winners.
3. Limit of three stories per author. Individual stories cannot be entered in more than one section
4. Entries to be typewritten, double-spaced on one side only of A4 white paper, with pages numbered, a wide left-hand margin, and story title on each page. A good photocopy is acceptable. Post in an A4 size envelope.
5. To ensure anonymity NO WRITERS’ NAMES TO APPEAR ON MANUSCRIPT (MS). Please attach a COVER SHEET with name of story, word count, section entered, and age if Young Writer
6. On a SEPARATE SHEET please attach form below
7. MSs will only be returned if adequately stamped self-addressed envelope (SSAE) of sufficient size is included. Other manuscripts will be destroyed after the competition, so keep a copy of your work.
8. Include a business-sized SSAE if you would like only a results sheet
9. Award winners will be notified by phone or mail prior to announcement, when those able to attend will be invited to read excerpts from their stories
10. Members of the KSP Foundation Management Committee are not allowed to enter
11. The judges’ decisions are final, and no correspondence will be entered into
12. The KSP Foundation Inc. reserves the right to publish the winning entry or entries in a publication related to KSP should the opportunity occur, in consultation with the author
Send entries to:
KSP Speculative Fiction Awards
11 Old York Road
GREENMOUNT WA 6056
Entries which do not reflect the stated conditions, or are postmarked later than
5pm May 30, may be disqualified without notice and the fee/s forfeited.
The Katharine Susannah Prichard Speculative Fiction Awards 2008
Closing date: 5pm Friday May 30, 2008
Words: Minimum 1500, maximum 3500. All forms of Speculative Fiction welcome.
2 Sections: OPEN and the
Shire of Mundaring National Young Writers Awards (20 years and under)
PRIZES
OPEN: First $200 Second $50
Young Writers Awards: First $75 Second $25
Highly Commended and Commended Certificates will also be awarded.
Awards announced and presented at
KSP Writers’ Centre, Sun August 17, 2008.
No entry form required
CONDITIONS OF ENTRY
1. Entry fees:
Open - $7.50 per story, to be paid by cheque or money order only
Young Writers Awards – no entry fee
2. Work to be original, unpublished, not received an award in another competition and not under consideration elsewhere from the time of entry in these awards until the official announcement of winners.
3. Limit of three stories per author. Individual stories cannot be entered in more than one section
4. Entries to be typewritten, double-spaced on one side only of A4 white paper, with pages numbered, a wide left-hand margin, and story title on each page. A good photocopy is acceptable. Post in an A4 size envelope.
5. To ensure anonymity NO WRITERS’ NAMES TO APPEAR ON MANUSCRIPT (MS). Please attach a COVER SHEET with name of story, word count, section entered, and age if Young Writer
6. On a SEPARATE SHEET please attach form below
7. MSs will only be returned if adequately stamped self-addressed envelope (SSAE) of sufficient size is included. Other manuscripts will be destroyed after the competition, so keep a copy of your work.
8. Include a business-sized SSAE if you would like only a results sheet
9. Award winners will be notified by phone or mail prior to announcement, when those able to attend will be invited to read excerpts from their stories
10. Members of the KSP Foundation Management Committee are not allowed to enter
11. The judges’ decisions are final, and no correspondence will be entered into
12. The KSP Foundation Inc. reserves the right to publish the winning entry or entries in a publication related to KSP should the opportunity occur, in consultation with the author
Send entries to:
KSP Speculative Fiction Awards
11 Old York Road
GREENMOUNT WA 6056
Entries which do not reflect the stated conditions, or are postmarked later than
5pm May 30, may be disqualified without notice and the fee/s forfeited.
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