Pro-active (not the margarine)

After encouragement from my blog followers and facebook friends I’ve decided to gird my loins, lower the visor on my helmet and venture out into the scary world. In other words I got a little more pro-active. I sent off an email to publisher #1 and requested an update on my submission. That was last Monday and I’m still waiting for a reply. I picture a harassed dust-covered filing clerk, hidden away in a subterranean basement, desperately asking his/her colleagues: Does anyone remember this woman? Anyone? Anyone? Several weary, care-worn faces peer around towering stacks of manuscripts. They shake their heads. One says: Just tell her the usual, ‘It doesn’t suit our list’. She’ll never know you lost it. Today I found two...

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Hope rises

It’s spring here in the Antipodes. The trees are straining to pop out little buds of promise. The blow flies have emerged from their winter hibernation and are now hanging around, rather noisily, near my desk. (I don’t know why they think they’ll find food here. Really, I don’t.) And the other day, on the way to the doc, I saw Mr and Mrs Drake herding their little flock of ducklings along the side of the road. At first it was an “aww” moment, and then an angst-filled hour or so as I worried that the little family would all be skittled as they tried to cross over the busy road. I’m happy to report that on the way home I saw them all safe on the other side, eating the newly-sprouted grass. So, when spring is sprung what...

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Thoughts on a sad anniversary.

As I’m sure you all know, tomorrow is the tenth anniversary of the tragic events of 9/11. I remember watching the first footage of the attack on the World Trade Towers, my hand on my mouth and my eyes nearly popping out of my head. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Then it got worse. There was also an attack on the Pentagon. The Pentagon! Then there was the plane that crashed before it could reach its target. Some said they were going to hit the White House. What the flamin’ heck was going on? I remember seeing the footage of people walking out of New York, covered in dust, heading home as best they could. I had a weird, trivial in the circumstances, thought: How are the women going to walk so far in their high heels? I saw the firemen and...

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Father’s Day

It’s Father’s Day here in Oz, so I wish all fathers who may read this a very happy day. Father’s (and Mother’s) Day brings mixed feelings. Both my parents are dead now, so I’m sad they’re no longer with us. I find myself looking a little wistfully at those who still have their father, or at images of happy dads playing, talking with or hugging their children. My dad was a funny old fella in lots of ways. He had an awful childhood, a difficult teens and a tough adult life. He was illegitimate in an era that didn’t forgive such things. He was deaf (due to a nasty bout of measles when he was a little tacker) and didn’t receive a hearing aid until he was a married man with children. He wasn’t allowed to fight in...

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