A photographic essay exploring the crushing of creativity under the weight of drop sheets and paint trays. (And dead cars). Or in other words, why I neglected this website and wrote NOTHING last year. But I’ve finished the house (yay!) and am determined to let creativity flourish – or at least come up for air – in 2024.
Farewell, Mr Tibbs. We made the tough decision to say goodbye to the puss last week. He was nineteen and a half years old and had several health issues. While it was sad to say goodbye, I’m glad I was able to give that old cat a comfortable and caring home.
Four and a half years ago, I realised the scruffy old cat I kept glimpsing in my yard was actually living under my house, starving and frightened. He would hiss at me and run away if I got too close, but I gradually won him over with food – fresh chicken fillet his favourite. The vet was able to trace his previous owners through the microchip, but they didn’t want him anymore, so I said I’d keep him. I didn’t think a scruffy, ancient, half-wild cat had many other options.
I got something of a surprise the other day to walk around the corner of my house and see a red-bellied black snake wriggle away across the concrete. I’d seen the occasional snake out on walks, but never in my own yard. Or heading towards my back door. Or slithering under the bar fridge right next to the back door! Hmmm, what to do now? Well … panic, of course.
I’d left the back door open but with the screen door shut. I had sudden visions of Mr Snake managing to squeeze through the gap at the bottom of it, as the local lizards always do. The thought of a snake in the house was terrifying! I ran back to the front door and let myself in, then dashed through to the back door and shut it tight, locking it for good measure – just in case the snake might stand up and grow hands, I suppose.
Continue reading “A slithery visitor”
So I’ve had lots of time lately for quiet contemplation, as I watch my thumb turn various shades of green and purple and practise wriggling my fat little sausage fingers.
What started out as an early-morning dog walk on a frosty day ended up as a three-day stint in Bega Hospital having surgery on a broken wrist, which involved a plate and some screws to put it back together. Serves me right for wishing that I didn’t have to go to work that day. My son and his girlfriend were visiting and I would rather have spent the day with them. As it turns out, I did, but not how I’d expected to. Be careful what you wish for, hey? Luckily they were there to drive me up the coast to the hospital, and then look after Tilly and Mr Tibbs for a few days.
Continue reading “Ouch!”
People fall in love with Mallacoota. Families come for a summer holiday, and a second one, and then keep returning for fifty years or more. People drop in to look at the view, buy a house on a whim, and stay for good. It’s that sort of place.
Mallacoota is my lifelong love affair. I’ve holidayed here forever, and now it’s my home. I’ll be here for good, because this is where I feel truly alive.
Watching Mallacoota burn was an experience I can’t quite believe ever happened, even though the brutal evidence is everywhere. It’s as though I’d been plucked out of normal life that day and dropped into another place; a strange and threatening landscape. It was how I imagined the end of a dying world might look – pitch black except for a vivid orange glow.
Continue reading “After the fires”
It’s the first day of the New Year, and I am writing by candlelight, while my dog and cat snooze at my feet.
Yesterday, after an eerie dawn revealed an ominous glow along the coast, I continued my fire plan by watering around the house as I watched sinister black leaves slowly drift to earth. They were very elegant actually, falling in graceful spirals, but I wondered about what was to follow. The smoke worsened, and my neighbour appeared in the gloom and said we’d been advised by the Country Fire Authority (CFA) to leave, because Karbeethong was on fire. Karbeethong is the area of Mallacoota to the north-west of my place, and I turned around to look at another orange glow in the sky.
Fire ahead of me, and fire behind me – it was time to go.
Continue reading “Facing the monster”
There’s been lots of very serious work going on around here lately, just like in this picture. In fact, that’s me in disguise in the middle, madly tapping away at the first draft of Book 2 in the Mirrabooka Romance series. Having just gone over the 30,000-word mark, I’m calling that halfway! Meanwhile, it’s springtime here on the coast, which means wind, wind and more wind – a bit like Tilly after she’s eaten too many of the revolting, squidgy things she finds on the beach.
We haven’t had anywhere near enough rain, unfortunately, which means everyone’s a bit nervous as fire season approaches. To quote one of our fire station personnel: “We’ve got 1,000 houses and two fire trucks. You do the maths”. Yikes! I’m glad my place is in a fairly cleared area. Even so, I’m doing lots of cleaning up in the yard to lower the fire risk as much as possible. Here’s hoping we get some decent rain soon.
It’s been ‘all systems go’ around here. Mirrabooka Magic (Book 1 in the Mirrabooka Sweet Romance series) has been published both as an ebook and a paperback, and Planet Single is now available in paperback too. Now to write Book 2 of the Mirrabooka series!
I’ve actually written quite a lot of it already, but only in my head. I do a lot of long drives to Melbourne (about seven hours on the road) and that time is perfect for picturing the scenes and listening to the characters interact with each other in my head. When they get too noisy I have to tell them to shut up so I can concentrate on driving. After all that, merely writing it down will be a cinch, right?
I also have another romcom that I’m about a third of the way through, but I’ve parked that one for now. I will get back to it someday, though, I promise!
PS – Do you like The Mirrabooka Magic cover? It’s from The Cover Collection. They do a great job and provide exceptional service Iincluding this 3D marketing image).
I am making progress with Mirrabooka Magic, honest, but in the meantime I decided Planet Single needed a new cover. I found this one at Beetiful Book Covers and thought it was perfect for the genre and the story. Hope you like it!
I’ve also recently discovered Instagram. It’s so much fun! I live in a photographer’s paradise surrounded by beautiful beaches, inland waterways, and unspoilt forests, so I’m enjoying rekindling my love of landscape and seascape photography and publishing the pics on Insta. Tilly also features in my feed – she’s very photogenic too – and even the grumpy old cat gets a look-in sometimes. Come and join in the fun – and if you mention any of my books I promise I’ll follow you. 🙂 Find my Instagram feed here.
My hopes of finishing my romance novel, Mirrabooka Magic, by Christmas were completely derailed by the arrival of Tilly – an 18-month-old rescue dog. She’s an Australian cattle-dog cross, and the ‘cross’ part is anyone’s guess. It’s lucky she’s cute, because it’s taken a lot of time and energy to settle her into our household. She gets very anxious when I leave her, and that anxiety manifests itself in house-destructing tendencies, which has been a challenge. Of course, it’s not her fault that I went crazy and bought a house too, and then had to transport her, the cat, and all my belongings 300 miles to a remote coastal village – but that’s a whole other story.
So is the time I went out to dinner and left Tilly in the house, then came home to find she had jumped up on the kitchen bench, got the lid off a container of cooking oil, eaten it all and then been sick on the brand-new rug in the living room. Twice! When I’ve recovered from the trauma, that and other Tilly exploits may become a new blog post. Now that life is settling down, I’m back to making progress on the romance, so stay tuned for more news about that. In the meantime, here is a picture of my gorgeous bundle of trouble, because she’s just so damn CUTE!
I’m happy to announce that I’ve been working like a slave – or perhaps a slightly obsessed accidental cat owner (see below) – on my new manuscript. Mirrabooka Magic is the first book in my Mirrabooka Sweet Romance series, which is planned to be a trilogy.
I’m in a frenzy of editing at the moment, and in my attempts to get enough peace and quiet to allow me to focus on the book (i.e. not getting interrupted by young-adult offspring, demanding cat, friends who think I should actually socialise, or other assorted life inconveniences) I look like this:
It’s winter here in Australia, and I’ve been thinking with much longing about our annual summer holiday in January. This is a blog post I wrote years ago for a parenting website. I still like it.
Ah, summer… time to fill the car with kids and luggage and head to the beach. Max, Lauren and I are soon off on our annual holiday, and I’ll be following my own handy hints guide on how to survive long drives with kids, which is honed from many hours of ‘are-we-there-yet’ experience.
Make sure your car will get you there without getting its hoses tied in a knot and having a hissy fit. Check the oil, coolant, tyres and other important things … whatever they are. Better still, ask some nice bloke to do it for you.
Continue reading “On the road again”
This blog piece is football-inspired, since this city is going crazy over football at the moment. Even non-football fans like me are interested in this year’s AFL grand final, because it’s going to bring barracking for the underdog to a whole new level. Facing up against the Sydney Swans tomorrow are the Western Bulldogs – ‘Doggies’ by name and ‘under-Doggies’ by nature. Their one and only premiership win was in 1954, and they haven’t played in a grand final since 1961. Their fans have endured heartbreak after heartbreak, with the team getting oh-so-close to a grand final many times over the years, but not close enough. Until now!
Somewhere in this city, there’s a man called Steve, and I just know that tomorrow he’ll be watching the game and cheering for the Bulldogs, and hoping and wishing and praying for a win with everything that he has.
I encountered Steve when I was travelling home from work a couple of months ago. I got onto the train and found a spare seat, and was surprised when I noticed that the middle-aged man opposite was staring straight at me.
Continue reading “Go the under-Doggies!”
I’ve come to the far-east corner of Victoria to Mallacoota, my favourite place, for some solitude and writing time at the coast. Mallacoota has always been special to me. I was a baby the first time I came here; my parents brought our family here every summer.
Now, although Mum and Dad passed away years ago, the tradition lives on with my siblings and I bringing our own children every year. I love this place. I come here whenever I can get away from the city, and I’m so happy to be here now for a week in winter, when the campgrounds are nearly deserted and the beaches and walking tracks around the inlet and through the national parks are quiet and serene.
I was walking on a surf beach today at sunset, with no one else around. It was wild, with the wind and the spray and big banks of dark clouds moving across the horizon, tinged orange and pink from the lingering rays of winter sun. I loved the wild beauty and the solitude.
Continue reading “Pelicans of Joy”Another blog post from a few years back. I think the advice is still good, but I’m so glad I’m retired from the dating circus! I never was any good at the trapeze. Just the thought of going on a first date now makes me shudder.
Dating… with children
There comes a time in a single mother’s life when she longs for someone to take her to dinner at a restaurant that doesn’t serve McChicken burgers – or McAnything, come to think of it. Dinner… real food … with a glass of wine or two and some grown-up conversation. Is that too much to ask?
And so one ventures forth into the dating scene, which is enough of a seething swamp already, but is even more complicated when you have children as part of the package.
My friends know I’m an online dating veteran, so I was asked for advice the other day by another single mum who is thinking of following my dubious example.
“So, what do I need to know?” this sweet, innocent girl asked me, blissfully unaware of what lurks the other side of her modem.
Here, censored for general consumption, is my advice:
Continue reading “Dating… with children”
My kids complain about me being a garden-aholic. They reckon I’m completely addicted to the thrill of extreme gardening, but I think they’re exaggerating. Sure, I like to spend a few hours in the garden from time to time, but it’s just a little hobby. It started with just a few whiffs of Seasol, before I got onto the harder stuff like Dynamic Lifter, but I hardly ever inhale, okay? Anyway,I think it’s character building for my kids to wait until 9.00 pm for any hope of dinner. Just because I’ve occasionally been caught weeding by torchlight doesn’t mean I have a problem. And when I tell them I’m going outside to do a quick job or two and then stagger inside three hours later with my hair full of twigs, a caterpillar hanging off my chin and my bra full of dirt … Well, come on, doesn’t that happen to everyone?
Continue reading “Addiction #1”
Sometimes, I reckon that being a writer really sucks. This is a story about one of those times.
For years, I’d been scribbling away on a fiction manuscript, giving it all the TLC I’d give one of my babies. I’d coaxed it along, cooed to it, and suffered through the sleepless nights it caused. I never gave up on it, even when it was stubborn and horrible and spat words back in my face like clumps of mashed pumpkin. Sometimes, I wondered why I persevered, but mainly I just loved it. I loved watching it grow and I marvelled at what it taught me. Finally, my baby took shape and grew up, and it was time to send it out into the world.
Now, as a writer, I know a few undeniable truths. I know the chances of a publisher snatching up a submission from an unknown author like me are teensy-weensy. Apparently, there’s a higher probability I’ll be mauled to death by a rabbit. Even so, when my manuscript came of age I still lovingly dressed it up, brushed its hair with a neat side part, and sent it off for its great adventure.
Continue reading “Death of the Hope Fairy”
We’ve been living in this house for months, now. Finally, I feel like it’s starting to come together after our many settling in ‘issues’.
One issue became apparent during this winter’s first thunderstorm, when I had just sat down on the couch, and was thinking how good it was that I’d finished unpacking and could finally relax. The rain was pelting down. “Gee, that rain’s loud,” I thought. “Like … really loud. Oh – that would be because it’s raining in HERE!!”
Continue reading “Raindrops keep falling … in my house”
Ah yes, the new house. I did say it would have its quirks, didn’t I? Well, that sure was an understatement. I’ve moved right into the middle of Quirkville.
This new home of ours is taking a little getting used to. The ‘rustic’ kitchen is distinctly barnlike, except for the bench, which is more minimalist in style. As in, there’s barely any of it. An old chimney in the kitchen expels drafts of freezing musty air. I’m sleeping in the dining room. The shower’s in a cave (makes a change from a cupboard), and what was extravagantly called the third bedroom is a cold draughty room about the size of a large wardrobe. The heating duct in that room produces as much heat as your average birthday candle, and the roof leaks. A lot. Over the last week or so, I’ve spent a goodly amount of time either up a ladder or on my hands and knees (and not in a fun way). I’ve been high on Nifti for days on end.
Continue reading “Welcome to Quirkville”
On my moving house ‘To Do’ list is an item that says ‘Remove bee bubble wrap’.
That’s because here, in this house I have rented for six-and-a-half years, the bees come to visit every November. They check the house out, buzz around a lot and live in the walls for a while. The more intrepid explorers come inside through the old-fashioned vents in the ceiling. I don’t mind a few bees, but one day there were so many flying around my courtyard the air was thick with them – like a noisy, fuzzy fog – and I was too scared to go out the back door. I called the Bee Man that time, but by the time he turned up there wasn’t one to be found. Pesky things! The bee man said they were most likely scout bees, who wouldn’t ever set up a permanent home here. They just like to visit. I realised I could stuff bubble wrap in the old vents to stop the bees getting in, and I learned to live with their appearance quite happily.
The annual bee visit is one of the quirks of this house. So is the racket of the trains whizzing past, the cold seeping up through the floorboards from the basement, the regular cacophony from the neighbours’ cats (Oh, WHY do they congregate under my bedroom window for their love-fests?) and the fact that the shower is in a cupboard.
Continue reading “Bee bubble wrap”