• The Nifoula

    The Nifoula  As printed in The Last Word Anthology, you can find a copy of it here Long drives, open roads and old school Greek beats are prized possessions in the memories of my childhood. The purring of the V8 engine of Dad’s cherished ‘71 Holden Brougham, lovingly nicknamed The Nifi, because he adored the car like a wife, vibrating through my brain like a song I can’t seem to forget, nor do I want to. After the death of my dad, these memories are worshipped above all else. The tune of Mikri Mou Melissa, a song that always recalls images of tapping on the slim steering wheel, while singing loudly…

  • Sharing Sunday – Stolen

      Today’s Sharing Sunday piece is by Mikki, a darling friend of mine who is stronger than she looks and so intellectually beautiful it’s breath taking. Her piece, like most of what she pumps out, is gorgeous and flawless. I know she’ll think otherwise, as all of us writer’s do, but it’s the truth. I hope you enjoy it!   Stolen Siobhan strides from the supermarket toward her car, her dark face clenched with embarrassment. She doesn’t notice the keys until they crunch under her shoe. “Jasmine?” she whispers, staring at the keys and a pink and white leather shoe lying discarded nearer to the car. Her daughter, whom she…

  • Writing it Out: Some Healthy Advice

    Since writing the short story, I’ve been trying to get my novel back on track. I’ve been trying to set myself small goals. 500 words here, 800 words here. It seems that only in times of transit (I’ve been to Bendigo and I’m currently back in Adelaide for a few weeks) I’ve reached over 1000 words. I’m just not feeling the writing and I had been stuck on various bits of my novel and the words are just not coming out. I’m too hard on myself. I know that I am and it’s not something that is going to change. It’s just my nature but instead of actually forcing myself…

  • It’s Time to Build a Great Short Story

    Last week I wrote about being museless, today I’m hear to tell you, my lovely dreamers, that I wrote a short story. Last night I crept out of my room, fed up with my brother’s snoring (seriously how the hell can he keep it up ALL night?) I started up my laptop, lit a few candles and went through my hard drive for a starter and found two I liked. I picked one that pulled me a little more intense and started writing. I didn’t really know where it was going but it ended up being a short story from a different book with a character whom I had no…

  • Sharing Sunday – Wulfa’s Story Part One

      Today’s Dreamer is a fellow NaNoWriMoer. I can’t remember how we got close but it happened along the way, he’s part of the reason as to why I’m building up a tolerance to beer again. Thanks for that Crash. Here’s his story. Wulfa’s Story Part One In a city the rain pattered around, in the loneliest of buildings odd sounds abound. In the darkest corner a creature did sit, with horn on his head and tail on his back, his big brown eyes watched the rain pita-pita-pat. His name was Wulfa and he was alone. He knew not where he had come from, nor not where he had been,…

  • Sharing Sunday – Wulfa’s Story Part Two

    Part Two The door swung open easily and Wulfa immediately tried to back into the corner as he saw an inferno of raging flames. Julian looked at the flames in shock and coughed loudly before covering his mouth. Wulfa looked out the window. The ground window was billowing with flames as well. A piece of roof collapsed sending a shower of sparks near him and he rushed towards Julian scooping him up and stared at the inferno. The fire was frightening to him, even more so then getting hit by lightning again, the child coughed loudly again and Wulfa breathed in the air and snorted out the smoke. The scent…

  • Sharing Sunday – Grief

      The next dreamer on the list is Jerrie. We share a mutual acquaintance in the form of retail jobs and had a swell time sitting next to each other in class (oops sorry to the lecturer who shall not be named but we were sort of mean). This next story is gorgeous. I remember reading it and workshopping it in class. I hope you love it just as much.   Grief I woke up that morning knowing exactly what I was going to do. In my imagination I could still see you there, feel the warmth of your body and the touch of your coarse skin, the stale feeling of…

  • Sharing Sunday – A Settling of Ash

      Today’s sharing sunday goes to my beautiful critic partner and best friend, Peta Hawker. I remember drafting this piece with her and urging her to give more. I loved Esther and whole premise of the story. I hope you love just as much.   A Settling of Ash A settling of ash Esther sat hunched on the shore, the waves crashing at her feet, her head hanging between her knees. At her back rose the elegant tower she could no longer call home. It was only a day ago that she had stood on the balcony of her parent’s room and watched the army move closer to the city,…

  • Sharing Sunday – Olive Branch

      So I’ve decided that Sunday is now going to be called Sharing Sunday and I’m going to make a practiced effort to share bits and pieces of my writing with you. That and Sunday’s generally tend to be the days where I schedule everything around Body Attack and So You Think You Can Dance, but it’s now moved to Thursdays (really annoyed about that this week. I was looking forward to it!) Any way without further chatter from me here is Olive Branch. My first toddler steps into creative non-fiction aka literary fiction. I hope you like it. It’s also a bit long, so bear with it.   Olive Branch…

  • Searching for an idea

    There are things that I really dislike, one of them is thinking too hard about an idea. Ideas for stories, novels, even RP posts don’t come from me dwelling on them, in fact the more i dwell on something the more it seems to get in the way of how it should be. Some of my best pieces of writing have in fact seemed nothing above mediocre scribbles. That is until someone else gets their hands on them. One thing that will always be burned into my mind, and is completely the reason as to why i even write, is my year 12 English teacher, Mr. Beaumont (sorry Mr. B…