A recipe for life…

As a writer of historical fiction, one appreciates all the grand historical times – the Greeks, Romans, Dark Age Britain, Vikings, Byzantines, Renaissance. Sweeping, glorious stories that are the stepping stones of the world as we know it today.

But sometimes, history is miniscule. And personal.

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What is an ‘indie’?

According to Wiki:

Indie is a shortform of “independence” or “independent”…

    • Indie literature, a book published outside mainstream publishing
    •  So why did I become an indie writer?
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The art of spin doctoring…

“Spin doctor (noun) (informal):

a spokesperson employed to give a favourable interpretation of events to the media…”

And so we saw Tassal’s corporate engagement chief, Barbara McGregor, doing exactly that as she conducted a media tour over the salmon farm site in Okehampton Bay.

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When real life intervenes…

My latest book, Michael (the final in the a historical fiction trilogy, The Triptych Chronicle) is taking me the longest  to write of all eleven titles in my list. It’s not writer’s block, it’s not that I don’t like the story arc or the characters.

It’s simply life…

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One of New Zealand’s best…

I first met Kelly Gardiner during the organisation of the Historical Novel Society of Australasia Conference happening in Melbourne in the first week of September.

One of the nice things for me about this conference, has been touching base with writers in Australia and New Zealand because, to date, most of my professional relationships have been with European and American hist.fict and hist.fantasy writers.

Kelly is appearing on a panel about why we authors write about far-flung shores, why we bypass our homeland in favour of other places.

Kelly accepted my invitation to appear on Desert Island Books and I leave you with she and her rather wonderful list.

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Why not Australia?

Earlier this year, I was asked to join a panel of authors to discuss exploring stories beyond our national boundaries and why we chose to write about times and places far from Australasia.

I’d never really navel-gazed about my predilection for twelfth century Europe. To me, it just was. When I wrote about Venice, Lyon or Constantinople, bells rang – sounds ranging from soft tintinnabulation to reverberating tocsins, and that was all that was required.

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Four and Twenty Blackbirds…

Today is a day when MPT (Marine Protection Tasmania) supporters should be mourning, I suppose. The anchor points for the fish pens go in this weekend. No doubt the Tassal toadies around town think we should be backing down.

That we are crying in our tea.

That we will crawl back into our ‘shacks and sip lattes’.

That we will rush off and pay subs to whatever the latest call for Green support might be.

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Simply the best…

My Mum died two years ago this weekend at the age of 89 and ¾’s. And before the wind and rain arrived, I went to her healing place on the beach and remembered her.

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Hell hath no fury…

Hell Hath No Fury like an electorate scorned.

And as more and more Development Applications flood the Glamorgan Spring Bay municipality, residents are becoming adept at securing their own specialist advice and opinion and are becoming true frontline fighters. Amongst their number are scientists, town-planners, environmental specialists, journalists and most importantly, lawyers skilled at pulling apart legislation. No longer is a rate-paying base ignorant.

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