It's almost like a blog post, only it's in the Guardian so it's a teeny bit more special, and someone got the joy of editing it so it's not nearly as rambly as one might expect! Read it here.
Upcoming Events
Want to know more about The Morbids? Tune in to one of the events I'm doing over the coming months. They are mostly free or pay-as-you-feel and (at this stage) online, so you can attend in your fanciest pyjamas. Wednesday 2nd September 6.30pm In Conversation with Hannah-Rose Yee for Better Read Than Dead Zoom - …
Meet The Morbids
Sometimes you need to give up on death to have the time of your life... Caitlin is convinced she's going to die. She's going to be kidnapped and murdered while walking late at night, or be crushed by a piece of scaffolding, of fall out of her bedroom window. She doesn't quite know how …
First Love and Foolishness
File under: things I wish were fiction. My first boyfriend had bright blue eyes and curly brown hair and we would go to Macquarie Centre after school and hang out and we’d hold hands and sometimes we’d make out and he was a good kisser. He went to the boys school a few suburbs over from …
Backstage at a festival
Backstage is my favourite place. For years I hated it, it made me itch, reminding me of being nineteen, standing by the stage door smoking cigarette after cigarette, listening to the actors, knowing their lines better than they did, knowing the exact second the lighting operator would start to fade in the blue wash, the …
Twenty-Four Hours
On Sunday there's a minute where I think I’ve lost one of my boys. We’re at the pub and he comes for a cuddle and then I watch him toddle off back to the kids room with the others. I don’t remember seeing him come back out, but when I go to check he isn’t there. I …
Bus Stop
I didn’t really notice when the man at the bus stop disappeared. For years, he sat in the doorway on a milk crate, from morning to night and beyond. When it was warm, he drank Fosters out of a can, even at eight in the morning. When it was cold, he wore fingerless gloves and …
Good Neighbours
There’s a massage table in the backyard, next door. It’s white and narrow and the headrest is folded up so when I walk past and catch a glimpse of it through the window it looks like a hospital bed, right there in the middle of the grass, ready for a patient. Scattered around it sit …
NaNoWriMo: Take Two
I did my first NaNoWriMo last year -- you can read about me planning to do it here, and the result here, if you're a fan of very long-winded, very self-absorbed whining/gloating. TL;DR: I won, in that I spewed forth 50,000 words from my head to my laptop in eighteen days and then uploaded them to the NaNo …
The Festival And I
I’ve tried several times to sit down and write about this year’s National Young Writers Festival, and what the whole thing has meant to me, but the words are not flowing as freely as I’d like. This year’s festival came along at the exact best and worst time for me, right at the end of …
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