Author Archive
Christmas Writing Competition eBook
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My Son by Mary May Simpson
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsLet’s celebrate together
The beauty of your birth
When God performed a miracle
And gave you to this earth
He gave you life and form
And personality
And breathed success into the plans
That only He could see.
You were not made to fit those plans
The plans were made for you
And He was there to guide your steps
As only He could do
No matter what, the straying steps
Ambitions to fulfil
People to please and places to go
Those plans remain until…….
The sun grows dark as sackcloth
And the moon becomes like blood
When time no longer tarries
But ends…..just like a flood
Of memories and passions
And ambitions unfulfilled
When perfect plans are laid aside
And God begins to say…….
What did you do with all those plans
I clearly sent your way?
I gave you gifts aplenty
Return, I wanted none
Except your heart be given
To my One Begotten Son
For He held all the answers
The One to help you see
The plans I had to fit the man
That only you could be.
You see, you are so special
So perfect in My sight
My gift to you, this birthday son
Is power to see the light
To guide you in the pathways
To fulfil those perfect plans
That we might be together
You, forever in My hands.
So let’s celebrate together
The beauty of your birth
When I performed the miracle
That gave you to this earth
So filled with love and joy and peace
That you might overflow
And fill the hearts of dying men
That they My Son might know
I am your loving Father
You are my special son
So ask of me what e’er you will
And I will see it done!
Presidents News – November 2011
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsHello everyone.
As this is my first newsletter post I’d like to begin by thanking Jeannie and the team from last year for all of their work. You will still see Jeannie taking a prominent role, particularly over the next couple of months as I attend to my new grandbaby down south. I am looking forward very much to working with the new committee and investigating some exciting new initiatives.
Thanks also to Diana Hockley for a very entertaining description, at our last meeting, of her book ‘The Celibate Mouse’ and how her next novel, After Ariel, is in the process of procrastination. We always look forward to celebrating the achievements of all of our members so please remember to share them with us.
You might recall that I conducted a small, informal survey at the last meeting where I asked members three questions. The responses were very interesting, and I’d like to share them with you.
1. In response to the question of why people are members of the GCWA, we had comments such as
- to mix with others who share the same interests
- to glean stimulating ideas from speakers and other members
- to improve my writing skills
- to hear other’s experiences of life and writing
- to find people who will be honest with me about my writing
- to gain information about publishing, editing, agents etc
- to learn how to become published
- to feel supported in my writing
- to meet people who have both passion for, and knowledge about writing
2. The question of what else you would like to see improved, included suggestions such as
- More information about new technologies and how they are impacting publishing
- More interest by the monthly meeting in the support groups
- Maybe think about seating arrangements as meetings are sometimes very formal
- Have more members able to speak each month about what they are currently writing
- More workshops
- A mentor program
- More information for people who are just getting started
- Advice on contacting agents, local editors, publishers etc
- I liked having the opportunity to talk to the person next to me about the guest speaker
- Free publication set up by the GCWA
Perhaps we can all give some thought to these ideas and what might be possible for next year.
I’d also like to thank everyone who contributed to the success of the recent Festival for Independent Writers and Publishers. Just on $1000 worth of books were sold, with all money going to the authors. We’ve had some terrific feedback and tentative plans are already afoot for a larger event next year (last weekend in October) which it is hoped the GCWA will have some greater involvement in.
November is National Novel Writing Month. Sign up for NaNoWriMo at www.nanowrimo.org
Until next time keep writing. In the words of the inimitable Mark Twain, whose life is about to be immortalised in a movie, “Write without pay until somebody offers to pay.”
Cheers
Julie
Travel Bag of Books finds a good home
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Jonathan Sawyer
Thiel Partners accountant Jonathan Sawyer (pictured holding Darryl Greer’s thrilling masterpiece, The Election) was the happy winner of a GCWA Travel Bag of Books at the recent 2011 Supporting Our Sisters – S.O.S. Race Day Breast Cancer Fundraiser held at the Gold Coast Turf Club.
This was the second time Gold Coast Writers’ Association member authors and friends had generously donated books for inclusion in a Travel Bag of Books for charity, the first occasion being the 2009 Bruce Lynton Charity Ball.
Included in the latest Travel Bag of Books were works authored by (alphabetically): Darryl Greer, The Election; George Lewis, Birds of Currumbin Estuary; John Millett, Circles of Love; Jill Smith, Dual Visions; Southern Short Story Group, Love, Lies, Laughter; The Ten Penners, Fan-tas-tic-al Tales and Robert Young, Alec the Aeroplane, with a past GCWA guest speaker, Katherine Howell, kindly donating Violent Exposure. It should be noted that Jill Smith, and The Ten Penners, also donated second copies of their books for use as individual raffle prizes on the day.
Sincere thanks to all who took part.
Part of the Furniture by John Clark
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsI started a new job the other day. To be truthful it was really an old job. I had been there eighteen months previously and had taken a short break, like eighteen months’ worth of short break. So here I was, stomping up the stairs in my shiny new steel-capped boots, stomp, stomp, pause, stomp, stomp, pause, past Blondie at Reception and bee-lining to the canteen for the day’s opening round of cappuccinos. I thought that I had made it unobserved, but no, clever Miss Reception popped her blondie head over the desk. ‘Why, good morning mate. Don’t think that you can sneak in past me. I’d know those footsteps anywhere. You know, mate, you’re almost part of the furniture.’
Well, that certainly set the old brain department heavily into thinking mode. ‘Part of the furniture, eh,’ I thought. ‘If so, what part of the furniture does she think I am?’ ‘Maybe I’m a shiny new computer work station. Maybe a utilitarian but useful set of shelves. How about the important table in the Board Room, or even the equally functional one in the canteen? I can’t quite imagine myself as a filing cabinet or even a humble white board, but perhaps that’s what she thinks of me. Insignificant but vaguely useful.’
Caressing my number two cappuccino, I returned to the lair of the blonde one. ‘Tell me, oh wise and gentle lady (I was mindful of the harassment regulations – I couldn’t call her an old biddy or worse), what particular piece of furniture did you have in your elegant head when you referred to me as one of the same? Am I a valuable Chippendale writing desk, a teak chest from exotic Asia, a stylish work station fashioned from the shiniest chrome and stainless steel, or do you think of me merely as a footstool, something that can be trodden on daily and ignominiously discarded when it becomes a bit tatty round the edges?’
The blonde one was quick off the mark with her response – perhaps she’d been thinking about it over the weekend. ‘You, my dear man, would be best embodied as a chest of drawers. I can picture you now. No longer fresh from the factory, a few nasty scars on your polish, a wonky leg, and one of your drawers obstinately sticky. I think it’s a male trait. Nothing works perfectly all the time. Yes I know you promised to have it fixed, but that was eighteen months ago. Have you had it seen to? No, don’t answer that, if it was working properly you’d be sliding it in and out all the time, just to show that you could. It’s a male thing.’
Well, she had me there. My ambitions of being regarded as exotic, valuable or stylish were rapidly quashed. ‘In the eyes of the world I am but a chest of drawers, and a scruffy malfunctioning one to boot,’ I thought morosely. Gone were the fantasies of chrome and stainless steel, the priceless antiquities and the lightly-oiled teak from far-off lands. I will have to face the cold hard facts. I am mass produced in some urban sweat shop, my joints are cheaply stapled, not dovetailed in a tradesman-like fashion, and my varnish is already peeling under the harsh Queensland sun. No wonder that the young and sexy duvet has never given me a second glance, even when all, and I sincerely mean all, of my drawers were smoothly functioning. I can never aspire to consorting with even the lowest coffee table in the executive dining room.
In my new job, I have been told that I am almost part of the furniture. And so I shall remain, unobtrusive, marginally useful at the moment, but prepared to be discarded at a moment’s notice when my metaphorical drawers have finally all jammed shut.
Deadhorse by Vacen Taylor
Posted by: webmaster | Commentsby Vacen Taylor
His nostrils flare and his eyes glow fiercely, hit by the moonlight. Unnaturally these eyes entertain no sense of sight. They portray only a disquieting sense of evil, like blood-red pools fortuitously unearthed in this bizarre light. This familiar shape towers over my scrunching, quivering body. But I am not afraid. I am simply too cold to care and too close to death.
The frozen tundra has swallowed me. White. Everything for as far as I can see is white, except for him. He is, no doubt, a blurred distortion of my crippled mind, an apparition, with nothing more to offer me than colour in this colourless space.
I can’t remember how I came to be frozen in this blanket of white. Lost. Broken. Forgotten. Though my fingers are hidden in thick gloves I can no longer feel them, nor my toes. The wind whistles across my body, stinging my cheeks, and somehow finds a way to chill my ears that are covered by my hood. The freeze has entered my bones. My body shivers violently ― a physiological response to preserve the last of the heat I have left, an indication I am on the path towards clinical death. Yesterday I hurried along this path by eating the snow, due to my desperate thirst. It simply lowered my body temperature even more.
A small mirror has the privilege of displaying the truth to this gazing fool. My lips are puffy and split, and my nose is almost the colour of wild blueberries. So ghastly are my cheeks in colour and size I toss the mirror into the snow. Who wants to take the image of a dead man to the grave with them? But what is done cannot be undone.
My mental confusion fluctuates, spiralling into crazy irrational thoughts, counteracted by a lull of mindful sanity. Those fleeting times of sound judgement pressured me to keep moving, but I had given up walking yesterday. My stupor had me appearing more like a drunken fool than an educated man with a free spirited soul, a soul that yearned for adventure. I had told her this would be my last journey. It was my final chance to challenge my mind and body whilst discovering my true potential. I had spoken the truth to her.
He snorts again, breaking my lull of sanity. Contrary to my moment of deathly thoughts, I find myself watching him, admiring him. This beast of magnificence shines like a black beacon in the brightest moonlight, his muscular physique exuding the features of an equine athlete. He finally comes closer, pawing at the snow with his hoof. I knew horses well enough to know what this meant, a want or a need for something. But for a wild one like this pawing has practical purpose. Perhaps to uncover grass under the snow, dig up roots, or soften the earth before rolling, but none of these seem to be fitting for this situation. There is another purpose that comes to mind. Dubiously, I scoff at the thought, but I decide to look anyway. Is this magnificent beast inspecting an unfamiliar object in the snow? Yes, there in the snow is the mirror I had tossed away. Pick it up he says in his equine manner, nudging the mirror with his nose towards me. So I pick up the mirror and awkwardly return it to my pocket.
A snort of exhaling air escapes his magnificent body as he comes to rest next to me. I want to hold his muscular form, covered by black velvet fur, so I wrap my arms around his strong neck. He drops his head to the snow and rests it next to mine. Amazing warmth touches my bare cheek. There, I lose all notion of time. In this moment, he gives me something I cannot generate myself, and perhaps, the warmth charges my mind. I try hard not to entice a certain memory. Instead I allow the instinctive spontaneity of memory to simply appear, for my own sanity needs to be tested. My last fleeting hour of thought must be without question, free spirited. My face softens for the first time in many days.
I was home. Rolling green pastures dotted with patches of brown and black made me sigh. I could hear their calls, whinnies and neighs travelling up to the house on the hill. I felt the warmth of a summer breeze, and with it came the delicious smell of freshly baked apple pie.
A moment in time came back to me. I had never seen her make an apple pie from beginning to end, my first regret. My mother had the eyes of an angel and the patience of a saint. With five boys under her wing she made all the sacrifices, and we made none. The vision that held my attention was of her, passing me a piece of warm apple pie. Smiling. I could have done more to help her. Regret. And that was exactly how I felt. I allowed the feeling to flow effortlessly through me, like blood running through my veins.
The next memory was not silent like the last. At the table sat a selection of my family, and at the head, my father. I was standing, shouting at the man I missed as a small child, feared as a teenager, and hated as an adult. A military man. He was always clean-shaven, with large brown eyes and a frown that never left. Then one day, after he had returned home from battle, his brown eyes turned hostile and dead cold. Foreign. After many years his hostility soured his personality too. Why my mother stayed I will never know, but she did. This was the last day I had seen him. Twelve years ago. Our words were cold and unforgiving. I remembered them quite clearly ― for a dying man ravaged by the cold it seemed almost unfair, over the sound of his pounding fists as they hit the table. ‘Get out of my house!’ I could even recall the bitter tone in his voice. I had never been able to summon any sympathy for him, until today. Regret flowed freely once again. As a man of distance he had done his best to fight the ravages of war. Things of memory, weapons waved, armed amateurs, fear, explosions, and the visions of death had taken my father from me. These things I could never understand. But perhaps I should have tried. This was my third regret.
As she walked towards me in this memory I extended my hand towards her, and she reached out to take it. Her living touch was all consuming from the day I had met her. I had never known the power of love until that day when I looked into her eyes. Without knowing it our hearts had melted into one, over and over again. ‘I do.’ I never heard those words again for she was always going to be the only one for me. She was just like my mother; with eyes like an angel and the patience of a saint. I had to be the luckiest man on the planet. A man who until now had not realised his greatest fortune was not held in wealth, but in the wisdom of knowing the truth.
For a brief moment, or perhaps it was longer, my eyes open. The violent shaking is almost too much to bear. The terrible truth remains evident. I am yet to become a corpse. It is easy to close my eyes again, easier than breathing.
He arrived into this crazy, mixed-up world in the usual way. The cry of life squawked out as I held him. Two tears rolled down my cheeks as I marvelled at his beauty. His head was still stained by the liquid of birth. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. In the midst of this marvellous moment I had unknowingly committed his birth to memory. Only now while in the agony of dying do I remember the birth of my son.
After some time, I realised I had turned out just like my father. Missing from the dinner table week after week, travelling. I always had planes to catch, silver spoons to find for someone important, while taking photos of little boy blue and the man on the moon. It paid the bills, but now I understood the cost. When I wasn’t working I was on an adventure, somewhere unknown, hostile and untouched. I cannot remember ever kissing away my son’s childhood tears. Is there no such thing as a second chance? Can I undo what has been done? This fact suddenly seemed to matter. ‘Let’s play, dad.’ I heard him say. His eyes were older, about ten. ‘Not today, son. I have things to do.’ His disappointment was profound, because I had never seen it disclosed to me before this day as I lay freezing in the tundra. Or perhaps, it had not penetrated deeply enough to acknowledge the insight and understanding of a child’s discontent, and a father’s failure. Now he would only remember me as a distant, complicated and distracted man, an absent father. I knew this feeling all too well. This was my last regret. But I was not finished, not quite.
One more thing, I love them. My dearest ones, those who have completed my life, astonished me, and provided me with a greater understanding of the depths of love. To my family and my horses, I say goodbye. I open my eyes one last time to check. He is still here, next to me, this strange apparition with a coat blacker than the night sky. What I do next feels right; though I am sure it will cost me my hand. Needless to say, a dead man needs no hand to pull him up to Heaven. Gently, I pull at the fingers of my glove, easing it off. Happy in my thoughts, if I am to die in the next fleeting moments then allow me the right to touch such an animal again. The stroke, downward, over his mane, catching a few strands of coarse hair through my fingers, along the line of his muscular neck, over the blanket of smooth fur that keeps his body warm. For as sure as I am dying this fine creature is with me. Whether he is alive or the spiritual energy of the ancient animal Deadhorse ― said to roam these very mountains, I am thankful for his gift of warmth and memory. Satisfied that I am not alone I close my eyes. At last I am ready to die.
I open my eyes when the sun hits my face. It is something I don’t expect, to still be alive. Sadly, my magnificent friend has left me alone in the bitter cold once again. With what little strength I have left I lift the mirror to the sun. I hold it there for as long as I can, hoping a refection will be caught by the sun’s rays. In the end it drops away and I close my eyes.
‘Hey, buddy. Can you hear me?’
I half-open my eyes expecting to see an angel or God himself. But it’s neither. A husky dog sniffs at my face. When the dog is yanked away I see two shapes, both are men. I try to smile but my cheeks feel solid and stiff.
‘Let’s get this glove on, hey,’ says one man.
‘Helicopter’s on its way,’ says the other.
I grab the closest man’s arm. ‘Did you see it?’ I rasp.
‘See what?’
I look into his eyes. They are the comforting eyes of rescue, a way home. I want to cry, release the torrid emotion that accompanies undeniable relief, but I have no liquid left for tears.
‘Nothing,’ I whisper back. Why I don’t divulge my sighting I cannot say, other than this. My time spent with such a magnificent beast, or divine energy, carried a gift I can never squander. It is a connection to the threshold of my subconscious, an understanding of what’s important to me. This is mine to hold in solace, for as long as I shall live.
Members Writing
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsWe have a new category on the GCWA website: Members Writing.
In this section we will publish work submitted by our members – poetry, short stories, articles, memoirs… and lots more.
The first story shared is Deadhorse by Vacen Taylor. Please read it, comment on it, and share it on Facebook, Twitter, etc.
To submit your own piece for publication on the website, simply email it to the webmaster[at]goldcoastwriters.org.au
Literary Luncheon Photos
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsHere are some of the photos from the 2011 Literary Luncheon.
Click on any of the images below to see a larger version, then click on the arrows to scroll through the whole album.
GCWA Adult Writing Competition Winners List
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsCongratulations to the winners of the Deja vu competition.
Non-fiction – judged by Bev Ryan
First Place: Lighting Striking Twice by Elaine Harris, Parklands TAS
Second Place: Deja vu – This Cyclic Life by Julie Boyd, Hastings Point NSW
Third Place: Lend a Hand – Make a Difference by Thea Koroi, Woomera SA
Poetry – judged by Edwin Wilson
First Place: On Callan Reserve by Jane Laugharne, Perth WA
Second Place: Deja vu by Jan Price, Ballarat VIC
Third Place: Deja vu by Caroline Glen, Gold Coast QLD
Highly Commended: Stopped at the Light by Alan Turner, Gold Coast QLD
Short Story – judged by Lee McGowan
First Place: The Mermaid by Vanessa McKinley, Sydney NSW
Second Place: One of Them? by Catalina Herrera, Sydney NSW
Third Place: The Heart Remembers by Lynda Grant, Gold Coast QLD
Writing for Children – judged by Lyn Linning
First Place: Coming Home by Jemma van de Nes, Perth WA
Second Place: Ruby Orange and the Yowie by Zoya (ZS) Nojin, Sydney NSW
Third Place: Shopping at Mr Zen’s by Dianne Morris, Gold Coast QLD
Write Around Moreton Bay
Posted by: webmaster | CommentsDive into worlds of magic and mystery at this year’s Readers and Writers Festival, Write Around Moreton Bay, hosted by Moreton Bay Region Libraries.
The Festival will take place at Arana Hills Library on Saturday 15 October and at North Lakes Library on Sunday 16 October.
A variety of well known authors will present at the Festival, including Hugh Lunn, Kim Wilkins, Kylie Chan, A A Bell, Trent Jamieson, Stephen M Irwin and Julie Nickerson.
Highlights include: Gods, Demons and Dragons: Chinese myth and martial arts with Kylie Chan, Get it Out There: digital futures for readers and writers with Simon Groth from if:book Australia, The Devil is in the Detail : researching fiction with A A Bell and Stephen M Irwin,Steampunk, Swords and the Supernatural : speculative fiction in Australia with Kylie Chan, Trent Jamieson and Kim Wilkins and two session with Hugh Lunn - Hugh Lunn – Lost for Words.
Writers haven’t been forgotten, with session designed especially for them, including: Show Me the Money! : fund your writing through grants with Dr James Lergessner, Freelancing : making money from your writing with Tiana Templeman and Haiku : explorations and deceptions (a practical writing journey through Haiku) Haiku workshop with Duncan Richardson.
Printed programmes are available in all Moreton Bay Region Libraries.
Saturday 15 October
| 2-3pm | The Devil is in the Detail : researching fiction | Fantasy/crime/romance writer A A Bell and horror/suspense writer Stephen M Irwin will discuss the research that goes into writing fiction. Hear how Anita developed her unique plot and main character for the multi-award winning Diamond Eyes, and how Stephen delved into police procedure for his acclaimed new supernatural thriller The Broken Ones. |
| 3.30-4.30pm | Writing for Kids : why it isn’t as easy as you think! | Julie Nickerson, author of the Pippa series (Aussie Nibbles),Lucia Masciullo, award winning illustrator, and Katherine Battersby, author and illustrator of Squish Rabbit, discuss writing and illustrating books for children. |
| Consecutive Workshop 3.30 – 5.30pm |
Haiku : explorations and deceptions (a practical writing journey through Haiku) | Poet Duncan Richardson will lead this free workshop for beginners and writers with some experience in Haiku and related forms, e.g. Senryu, Tanka, etc. Some outdoor inspiration and writing is planned, weather permitting, so bring a notebook, pen and hat. There will be a follow up session 10-11am on Saturday 22 October at Arana Hills Library. |
| 5-6pm | Show Me the Money! : fund your writing through grants | Successful local writer, Dr James Lergessner, will share his tips and tricks for making profitable grant applications to fund writing. In recent years Caboolture Shire Council, Moreton Bay Regional Council, RADF and Jupiter’s Gaming Community Benefits grants have effectively endorsed James’ entire body of work. |
| 6.30-8pm | Hugh Lunn – Lost for Words | Hugh Lunn will revisit the rich, inventive and roguish language Australians used to speak, before globalism stole it away. He will cast his satirical eye over the madness of modern language: the road signs, the asterisks, the gobbledegook and corporate speak that have replaced our euphonious direct language. |
Sunday 16 October – North Lakes Library
| 10-11am | Gods, Demons and Dragons : Chinese myth and martial arts | Best-selling author Kylie Chan will discuss how she weaves Chinese mythology, culture and martial arts into her Dark Heavens Trilogy and The Journey to Wudang Trilogy. |
| 11.30am-12.30pm | Hugh Lunn – Lost for Words | Hugh Lunn will revisit the rich, inventive and roguish language Australians used to speak, before globalism stole it away. He will cast his satirical eye over the madness of modern language: the road signs, the asterisks, the gobbledegook and corporate speak that have replaced our euphonious direct language. |
| 1.30-2.30pm | Steampunk, Swords and the Supernatural : speculative fiction in Australia | Three of Australia’s leading speculative fiction writers, Kylie Chan, Trent Jamieson and Kim Wilkins will discuss the rise and current popularity of speculative fiction in Australia and their love of the genre. |
| 3-4pm | The Future of the Book : digital futures for readers and writers | Simon Groth, writer and manager of if:book Australia will explore the future of books and publishing. Does the digital revolution really spell the end of paper publishing? How can writers use new publishing opportunities to their advantage? And what does the rise of the eBook mean for readers? |
| 4-5pm | Freelancing : making money from your writing | Freelance Writer Tiana Templeman will take a warts and all look at the life of a freelancer. She’ll expose the pitfalls for new players and give her tips and tricks for getting your writing into print – and being paid for it! |
About the writers…
Katherine Battersby is a children’s writer and illustrator whose first picture book, Squish Rabbit, will be published in Australia, the US, China and other countries. She has had many short stories published in anthologies and magazines, and in 2010 was awarded a Marten Bequest Travelling Scholarship for her writing. She adores reading, rabbits and anime, and thinks exclamation marks are evil. Visit her world at www.katherinebattersby.com
A.A. Bell is the Winner of the Prestigious 2011 ASFF Hemming Award for SF and Fantasy Themes for the multi-award winning fantasy Diamond Eyes, now also with a sequel Hindsight. A third book in the series, Leopard Dreaming, will be released soon. A A Bell also writes as the Multi-Award winning Children’s & YA author, Anita Bell with eight bestselling non-fiction titles and over 160 short stories, articles and poems published in the last 12 years under various pen names.
Kylie Chan married a Hong Kong national in a traditional Chinese wedding ceremony in Eastern China, lived in Australia for ten years, then moved to Hong Kong for ten years. During that time she learnt a great deal about Chinese culture, coming to appreciate the Chinese customs and way of life. Since returning to Australia, she has used her knowledge of Chinese mythology, culture, and martial arts to weave stories that appeal to a wide audience. She is the author of two bestselling Speculative Fiction trilogies: Dark Heavens Trilogy (White Tiger, Red Phoenix and Blue Dragon) and The Journey to Wudang Trilogy (Earth to Hell, Hell to Heaven and Heaven to Wudang). Both trilogies have recently been released in the US and the UK. Find out more about Kylie Chan athttp://www.kyliechan.com/
Simon Groth is a writer and editor whose first two novels were shortlisted in the Queensland Premier’s Literary Awards and whose short fiction has been published in Australia and the United States. His co-edited collection Off The Record: 25 Years of Music Street Press (with Sean Sennett), was published in 2010. Simon is the manager of if:book Australia, exploring digital futures for authors, readers, and publishers. Find out more about Simon Groth at http://simongroth.com/
Stephen M Irwin is a Brisbane-born filmmaker and novelist. His short films and short stories have won many competitions across Australia and around the world. His acclaimed debut novel, supernatural thriller The Dead Path, was published around the world and named Top Horror Title in the American Library Association’s 2011 reading list. His second novel, The Broken Ones, was released in August 2011. Find out more about Stephen M Irwin at www.stephenmirwin.com
SF writer and Silent Motion Picture Actor, Trent Jamieson is currently writing a series of novels called Death Works. The third, The Business of Death, was released in September. They’re about Death – you know, the Grim Reaper? He is also working on a duology for Angry Robot Books the first of which is called Roil and was also released in September. The second in this series is called Night’s Engines and is due for release in 2012. If you like the steam, and the punk, you might like `em. When not writing, Trent works at The Avid Reader Bookshop in West End- the best indie bookshop in the world (he’s not biased or anything). find out more about Trent Jamieson at http://www.trentjamieson.com/
Dr. James G. Lergessner is one of Queensland’s distinguished historians, biographers and memoir writers. He started his writing career in 1993 as a professional, contracted author with Boolarong Press, Brisbane. Formerly a university professor of education and academic consultant in Australia and Canada, James is a passionate observer and recorder of life and events in Brisbane, the State of Queensland and Australia. He has published twenty books (seventeen non-fiction and three fiction works) related to early Queensland, namely Brisbane, the Caboolture Shire and Moreton Bay Regional Council areas, Bribie Island, and Australia generally. From 2004 to 2009 Caboolture Shire Council, Moreton Bay Regional Council RADF and Jupiter’s Gaming Community Benefits grants have effectively endorsed James’s entire body of work. Find Dr James Lergessner’s books in our libraries.
Hugh Lunn was named a Queensland Icon for the state’s 150th anniversary celebrations in 2009. He was in good company, including Wally Lewis, Susie O’Neil, Powderfinger and the Great Barrier Reef. Hugh is well known for the best-selling Australian childhood classic Over the Top with Jim. Hugh has written two books on Australia’s lost language — Words Fail Me and Lost for Words. As a journalist in the 1970s, he won three national Walkley Awards for feature writing. His memoir about 13 months in Vietnam as a Reuters war correspondent – Vietnam: A Reporter’s War – won the Melbourne Age Book of the Year literary prize in 1985, was published in New York, and is still in print there and in Australia. Hugh returned to writing biography with The Great Fletch — about his friend Kenny Fletcher of Annerley Junction, who was a Wimbledon and Davis Cup champion. Find out more about Hugh Lunn at http://www.hughlunn.com.au/
Lucia Masciullo is an artist, full-time painter and illustrator of children’s books. She was born in Livorno, Italy, where bushes smell of rosemary and saltiness. She moved to Australia in 2006. She has illustrated the ‘Our Australian Girl’ series for Penguin, as well as a number of picture books. Her most recent book is Come Down Cat, written by Sonya Hartnett. Find Lucia’s books in our libraries. Find out more about Lucia Masciullo athttp://www.luciamasciullo.com/
Julie Nickerson liked to make her own books when she was young, but didn’t consider a career in writing and became a medical scientist instead. She later spent many years overseas where she had a variety of jobs, none of which involved science or writing. When she moved back to Australia, she started writing stories for her children and finally realised that working with words was what she really wanted to do. Julie’s first book, Pippa’s Perfect Ponytail, was released in Penguin’s Aussie Nibbles series in 2009 and has recently been reprinted in Australia and published in China. Her second book, Pippa the Perfect Flowergirl, was released in May 2011. Find out more about Julie Nickerson at
http://julienickersonwriter.wordpress.com/
Duncan Richardson has published poetry and prose in magazines and books since 1982, including Pula! a haiku journey through Botswana. He has served as haiku editor for the on line magazine stylus and is currently co-editor of the journal paperwasp. In 2008, his verse play The Grammar of Deception was produced and broadcast by ABC radio. He is currently working on a second haiku journey through Eastern Australia.
Tiana Templeman is a Brisbane based author, freelance writer and qualified corporate trainer. She reviews for the Gourmet Traveller Restaurant Guide and writes for such diverse markets as The Weekend Australian, South China Morning Post, Australian Travellermagazine and the Australia Council for the Arts. She holds a Master of Creative Industries from the Queensland University of Technology. Tiana is also the author of the travel title Absolutely Faking it. Find out more about Tiana Templeman atwww.tianatempleman.com.
Kim Wilkins was born in London, and grew up in Redcliffe. She has degrees in literature and creative writing, and teaches at the University of Queensland and in the community. Her first novel, The Infernal, a supernatural thriller was published in 1997. Since then, she has published across many genres and for many different age groups. Her latest books, contemporary epic romances, are published under the pseudonym Kimberley Freeman. Kim has won many awards and is published all over the world. She lives in Brisbane with her husband and two small children. Find Kim’s books in our libraries. Find out more about Kim Wilkins at http://fantasticthoughts.wordpress.com/
Dates / Times
Arana Hills Library, 15 October 2011
North Lakes Library, 16 October 2011
Cost
All events are free
Bookings
Bookings for this event are recommended.
Contact
Your local Moreton Bay Region Library to book.
