The Long Jetty - Literary Journal now available & Launch

The Long Jetty - Officially Launched.




The Verandah Literary Journal is only published once a year, and I'm very excited to be a part of this year's publication, the 25th Anniversary Edition.

I wrote The Long Jetty when I was away for a few days. The premise is the internal meditation of an old man who walks down a Long Jetty at his favourite holiday spot. He has done this every year for decades, but this year is different. This year his wife will not be accompanying him. This year his wife died. Suddenly the Long Jetty looks very different.

If you purchase a copy of the Journal, you will get to read the story in full, plus you will be supporting the Arts. It is full of Stories, Poetry, Design and Photography, so there is much to enjoy

I don't submit many stories as I spend most of my writing time concentrating on my novels and now of course, this blog. Plus I'm terrible at the business side of writing and really could be doing a lot more. I think I need a manager. Or an agent. So I won't have any publications coming up anytime soon, so this is it for 2010 folks!

The Journal is available to order online here.

I'm happy to sign it for you if you like if we can arrange it. Just get in touch with me. (My email is on my profile).

Here are some shots from the Official Launch at the Melbourne Writers Festival. I would have loved to been there, but alas, I am based in Sydney and could not get down. It seemed like a great event.





Coming Soon,
More Poetry, Stories, etc.
Love to see you back! And feel free to spread the word. Please!

Until Then,

Melbourne Writers Festival Launch (Story)

It's short notice, but Saturday the 4th of September sees the official launch of the 25th Anniversary Edition of the Verandah Literary Journal. They are using the Melbourne Writer's Festival to do it and I'm pleased to have a story in this special edition, The Long Jetty.




If you're in Melbourne, and happen to find yourself at Federation Square at 4pm, pop into the Feddish Cafe/Bar Restaurant, River Terrace Yarra Building, where the Launch is taking place.




Unfortunately, I will be in Sydney and can't attend, but I am honoured to be a part of the magazine and the festival, in this small way.

You can pre-order the issue here. If you're in Australia, you might want to get a copy. Not only is it a great Literary publication with stories and poetry, but there is featured artwork, Design, Photography and non-fiction as well. (There is also special offers on past editions.)

More about the Verandah Launch.

More about Verandah Literary Journal.

More about the Melbourne Writers Festival, which is currently underway.



Next post,
A little insight into my novel, Ode to Dead Young Friends, and it's
recent submission.

Until Then,

TrunK TowN - A Kids Story

TrunK TowN


This is a true story.
Some years back in a riverside town of 600, the Circus rolled in. This was much more common in towns then than now. As they unpacked, a small but ageing elephant stood tied to a tree. Somehow, due to an oversight, the elephant escaped. It wondered off slowly, so no one noticed. Soon though, it became excited by its freedom and ran through the streets, relishing the exercise and the novelty.
Cars were forced to pull over. Tractors idled. Bicycles halted. People watched without moving, just to make sure that this was real.



In next to no time, the elephant stirred up everyone. They all joined the chase, but an elephant is not an easy catch. Every now and then a big brave man would step up to grab him, but the elephant bowled them all over. Even when he was only walking and a cheeky teenager grabbed his tail, all the boy could do was hang on, skidding along by the flat of his shoes.
Men, women and children chased him down the main street, some laughing, some angry. Others were too stressed to do anything but stand and stare with hands over their mouths.
Eventually an 11 year old boy came up with a plan. He had also been running all over town, watching the grey animal disrupting everybody and getting a kick out of it, but when it walked into the local park by the river, an idea struck.
He ran ahead to the end of the park where the trees were close together. Having been brought up in the town, he knew that it was the only way out of the park.



The boy scampered up the tree and waited until the elephant was close. Just as it walked underneath, he dropped onto its back. The elephant broke into a run and the boy was forced to grab the large floppy ears like reins on a horse.
‘Whoa boy. Whoa.’ The voice was young and not at all mean like the adults in the circus and it soothed the elephant. Soon the whispers calmed him completely. By now, he was ready to rest. After all this was a lot of excitement for an elephant with a predictable life.
Before long, the animal was back in the circus having a sleep.
That night all of the townsfolk turned up at the circus. It was the most successful circus ever. Yet the only reason that they all came was to see the elephant that had stopped a town.



Coming Soon,
The First in an ongoing Series; Dramatist or Illusionist - A Novel Gestation. Ongoing Updates about my Novels.

Also A New Series, Famous After Death.

and more Poetry and Stories.

Until Then,

Poem - Non Vitals

Non Vitals

In Your Face
Bloated
Intrusive
In Your Business
Your Privacy is Penetrated
You Have No Rights.




Mentally Stripped
Can't be Raped
If You're not Desired.

Who said You had an Opinion?
You = A Stat
Adrift
In a Overpopulated Mass
You're the Unwanted Majority.




Don't Dare Speak
Your Opinions
And Essence
Are Crass.

Yet you were never Asked
Consulted or Considered.

Log Off
Shut Down
Your Privileges Denied
You Crumple under the Weight of Numbers...


This happened so Fast
There is Nothing More Lonely
Than being Irrelevant.



end.


(This time you get your opinion. Please see top of Page for Poll on this Poem)

Coming Next,

Trunk Town. A kids story.

Until then,

Greatest Written Films

Being There (1979)





Chance (Peter Sellers) is a simple gardener employed by a wealthy man. When the man dies, Chance is left to fate. Oh the irony. His simplistic wanderings and philosophies soon find a chord. He happens to say the right things at the right time and people assume he is more intelligent that he really is, bringing him much attention. Being There is a satirical look at the trappings of the media and how we project onto others. It’s very similar in tone to Forrest Gump (‘94), itself born from a novel ('86). Some say Gump was born from Chance.





The screenplay by Robert C. Jones and Jerzy Kosinski is based on the Kosinski’s 1971 novella of the same name.

Sellers hounded Kosinski and Director Hal Ashbury for years to make the film, seeking a more serious role. His dedication paid off. He was nominated for an Academy Award for his performance. It was the last film he saw released before he died. You can almost see him looking worn out, yet remains one of his best. The making of the film is seen in the solid biopic, ‘The Life and Death of Peter Sellers.’ ‘Being There’ also won a BAFTA for its writers.





Kosinski, a Polish Jew, who had survived the War by hiding, was a successful novelist prior to the film. Yet he was accused of plagiarising the story from a 1932 Polish novel, ‘The Career of Nicodemus Dyzma.’ Kosinski was a colorful character who enjoyed his fame and attracted his critics. Some say he even had a borderline personality disorder. Yet the claims were never proven, nor disproven and the mud stuck. He eventually committed suicide in 1991 at the age of 57.





Either way, the film remains a quiet triumph; subtle, ironic and with a dose of genius.



More on the film.
More on Jerzy Kosinski.
More on Sellers.


Coming Soon,
New Poetry,
A children's story, Trunk Town
and a new series in September, Famous After Death.

Wheelchair

My recent experiences with my partner in a Wheelchair prompted me to write this poem. I don't wish to cast any aspersions on those who are permanently in them, but for those who can walk and suddenly find themselves in one, they must go through a period of transition. And that can't be easy.



For my partner, it's a brief period, 8 weeks in total, (and a further 6 on crutches) but I felt compelled to turn a thought to those who will never have that option.





W h e e l C h a i r


Trapped – Here
Entwined – By This
Restricted - By the Body
It's a Prototype Made Final.

The Flesh is Demanding – Selfish
The Mind Relegated
to Second Place
Nor Time
Nor Scope
To Soar
To Give Weight to these Dreams
To grow Skin and seethe Blood
To these flowing Whims
Held Backward
Steel Shoe Laced
And Perpetually Captive
By these Destroyed Limbs.

The Design is Faulty
Bones but Fractured Bars
The Chair – a Mobile Prison.

Forever Reminding
Of the Life
I had Before.





Coming Soon,
Another in the series on Greatest Written Films,

Feedback (of any kind) appreciated.

Until Then,

A Flash Fiction for the Net Generation

Enter-Net.

One of those stories.



The girl clicks the mouse. Electrons dance and the screen surges. A white beam shoots up her arm and sucks her into the net. It isn’t as she imagined. Numbers fly every which way, streams of code, like those movies, without the fancy colors and sound effects. It is noiseless. It is dull.
Millions of people logged in, infatuated, giving credence to cyber novels of yore. If only they could see what she sees. It's really quite dull. How much time had she wasted? Online.
On. And now In.
A code zooms by.


6 3 7 5 2
What? Is that minutes? Surely not hours. Oh my God! That’s her life! And what did it all mean? What did she get out of it? But the internet had the possibility for so much good! Right? What had she used it for? Surfing… chatting… She had made some real friends... Well, maybe not real, she’d never met them, never actually spoken to them, but they were real… Weren’t they?
But… But...
What about…
She struggled to think of the good things. She knew there had to be many things. So many. But all she could recall at that moment was the cold hours in her room.
On her own.
Wasted.
What a fucking waste.
I’ll stop. I’ll change! I swear…
A code appears.



2 8
What are you saying? Two. Eight. Too late?
But I’ll change… I promise!
I'll…
The electrons fire again, her arm frazzles. And she's out.
She lifts groggily from the keyboard.
Dribble on the keys, seeping in-between.
‘Crap.’
She snatches the nearest piece of clothing, a dirty sock from the floor and quickly wipes the keyboard.
She tests the computer.
It still works.
‘Lucky.’

8745786457836457347574857857881607613984368957648567846576243756137856478561784567
8456475891457834657864578167856487156470657846578214365016458764350610956147657046
5781465716457437548758987934908490845873673289793476895566478945943878249458768579
8456746573675826645287285767674365764752054654643485643785643856734658465765012453
9475894564568362765435648957892475987435275847358972859763485673465345643285643856
8456846846584658632862894658945894758975874857348572540759857897589465897234657346
6345632456266324562=2678562356389684658945897348578937536523=261261113301014034676
9074975745717154571845784571948539549074585698756987568476489762587655726762375678
4678268990127815634327468494557478678465894657459864851649857865718564798567184617
61897564785687346547589074=0571571895165814335445345354353543453452380917345990845
5147561745617365781465701645716478563756374567645167456745674657665147656174567346
5714746572647167851567164576147556475647567657816475467856716576147561475678465784
6574657184657645781647856978561785678164571658716874678165781651784658764785617456
0817465781657864583478t3246253645324573437473247364036476343746=364723676853453455
4763278463274672364723647326473647374673763764654764+475643756753................


ends

(Inspired by a teen I know who spends way too much time online).


Coming Soon,

33403925 Poem, 92342 Wheelchair
3907923 3249342- 234823 Greatest Written Films,

Until Then,