How I learnt there were no lions in Tasmania
I had a few weird beliefs as a child. Some of the stranger ones were: that my grandmother was alive at the same time as Jesus; that the place where I lived constituted the whole world; and that there were about a hundred people in the world and I knew most of...
Medical School Memories
I’ve returned from my whirlwind trip to Tasmania and the Alzheimer’s Australia National Conference filled with nostalgia for the state that was my home for the first thirty-three years of my life: its beautiful people, its undulating countryside, and its lush...
Elsewhere in Success, by Iris Lavell
Okay, I’m late to the party, but I’ve signed up for the Australian Women Writers Challenge for 2013. This challenge is for anyone, as it says on their website, for ‘male, female, reader, writer, teacher, librarian, bookseller, publisher, Australian...
Alzheimers Australia National Conference, Hobart, 14-17 May 2013
Alzheimer’s Australia have invited me to Hobart next week for their national conference. I’ll be sitting on a panel discussing the use of antipsychotics in dementia. I’m excited nervous shitting myself, as it’s way out of my league. Luckily,...
A connection to country…
I read a post the other day by Sue at Whispering Gums about Place in Australian Literature and it got me thinking. I grew up in cold, rugged Tasmania, with hills on every horizon, very few sweeping plains, and very little sunburnt countryside. The Tassie...
Family Secrets
Between August and October 2010, I had a couple of long telephone conversations with my grandmother in Tasmania. She was 88-years-old at the time and I wanted to learn as much about her life as I could before she inevitably left us. And I did … Nan’s...
A Snippet from the Novel
An excerpt from my novel, ‘Ida’s Children’. LEN’S CAMERA One night he came out, full as a boot and holding up a cardboard box as if it was a priceless antique. ‘I won! I won!’ he kept saying as he came over. He’d won a raffle and had a choice...
A Letter To My Daughter’s Teacher
Dear Miss, You see me and run your fingers through your hair, trying to look nonchalant. I can see that you’re uncomfortable, possibly intimidated: I’m a good 20 years older than you, and my body is rigid, my mouth set. You know that I’ve complained about you and that...
2. Trusting My Voice
I think I’ve learnt to do this. Finally. When I started writing, I was embarrassed to show my ignorance, so I tried to sound literary. I’ll show you: ‘The mountain rose out of the horizon and watched over and nourished the district, like a good mother. She sent...
1. Toss the Plan
Yes, I have a first draft. It’s complete – well, as complete as a first draft can be. It’s printed and sitting on the desk next to me: a pile of A4 paper that looks nothing like a novel. I’ve learnt a lot from writing this draft. Practical things, like how to...