I’m home from Tasmania. What an awesome place it is. I only saw a tiny part and I can’t quite believe the writerly break I’ve been planning since May is over already.
The launch of the Tasmanian Writers Prize anthology for 2022 was so much fun. What a thrill it was to be involved, to win the prize, to meet the warm, welcoming hosts at Waterton Hall Wines, Lucinda from FortySouth Publishing, the other writers and Meg Bignell, one of the judges.
After reading two of Meg’s books I can see why she liked my story. I’d like to think my story has a similar ‘light on the surface with layers of depth’ vibe. You can read my story here.
It was a stunning day at Waterton Hall and so much fun to meet the other authors and judges.
I was so tired though. I need to learn how to travel well if this is something I plan to keep doing. Winning comps and being invited to festivals and traveling for research, etc. Is how I want to spend the next 20 or so years so I need to do it in style and with well-being in mind.
I’m dictating this blog post because on Tuesday I went to bit hard at Barre Pilates and did something really appalling to my right shoulder. I head to the physio tomorrow to see exactly what’s what
I came home with a few ideas brewing. I write stories about families, mostly. Families working on their relationships and wading together through life’s little (and large) treacheries.
I get story ideas everywhere but while I don’t actively write ‘about’ my family memoir-style, I am obviously inspired by my family history and those around me. Let me clarify. I do write about my family but it’s mostly journaling and not for publication.
“Lucky” for me I have a huge family and more than a few skeletons in the spacious walk-in-wardrobe so I have much to be inspired by/work on with my therapist.
I’m not sure where I was going with that thought. It’s a strange feeling not being able to type and I’m finding that dictation accesses a completely different side of my brain. I’m also a little bit self-conscious about it and my little brown cat doesn’t like the sound of me talking into my phone and always walks into the room meowing aggressively. Well, as aggressive as a very cute little brown cat can meow.
A friend has (cheekily) suggested that now might be the right time to start the podcast I’ve been thinking about (threatening to do) for ages.