The sky. The leaves. The sun. The trees. The crisp wind. The cold nights. I love Autumn.
I’m over rushing. Being jam-packed busy. Constantly having to switch my brain from task to task. And I’m over the same old, the exact same thing repackaged as new and interesting.
It was the idea that started it all. An anthology that drew together a cluster of top notch young writers and asked them to write a short story in the style of their most beloved writer.
Scouring through a second-hand bookshop in Adelaide over the summer, my fingers stopped when they reached a book covered and bound entirely in orange. I picked it up – The Wandering Years by Cecil Beaton.
Last week, I was being interviewed by a lovely and clever University student, and we got chatting about fear. And it got me thinking about a common misconception bandied about confident people – it’s assumed they don’t feel fear.
Every few days, traditional media outlets – TV, radio and newspapers – are full of reasons, opinions and case studies as to why social media is a scourge. Why is it so hard to believe that there’s good in social media?
Last January, I was sitting on the couch, laptop resting upon my knees, searching for some sort of writers’ group – a collection of people in Melbourne, my hometown, that shared a love of writing and words, and caught up every now and again to talk about that very love.
