If I loved you, I would tell you this
Robin Black
Scribe, Melbourne, 2010
ISBN: 9781921640421
PB, 268 pp   $32.95

This is very welcome addition to my short story collections shelf.

It has been said that, while in a novel there is a need for a plot and the development of characters, the short story need be no more than just that: a fragment of life, an interesting tale with a cameo of characters.  Then you come across a writer like Robin Black and you learn that a short story can be a novel in miniature.  (more…)

Happy Birthday to this blog.  One year ago tomorrow I wrote the first ‘From the Kitchen’ and this blog was born. (more…)

The earth is cloud-hidden and the sky a range of blues.  Yes, I’m flying again.  It seems to be a new habit, writing while travelling.

Certainly, viewing the earth from the perspective of 35 000 feet makes a difference when thinking about things.  This may be why people sit on top of mountains to meditate.  Of course, one can meditate anywhere, but being able to sit with eyes open and see a large part of the earth’s surface spread out below automatically gives a different quality to the meditation.
Hurtling through the air in a closed container is also not the same as floating and gliding suspended from a paraglider.  Paragliding, or hang-gliding, forces a more intimate relationship with the atmosphere – the air currents and thermals.  There is immediacy, as there is with sailing. (more…)

I’m about to take off again, literally.  Flying to Perth for a stint of work, to be ensconced in a hotel for four days.  Apart from the décor in the rooms and the colour and quantity of the marble in the foyers (or lack of it), one hotel in Australia seems to be much like any other, especially if I don’t venture outside. (more…)

I am in the middle of upgrading my computer, with a new hard drive and new operating system.  I temporarily have no spell chequer to catch those odd words that I mist when proofing.

I try so hard to get things write, that I sometimes miss the obvious, such as failing to see that what I’ve written makes no cents; I get bogged down in the detail and no longer see the bigger pitcher. (more…)