Are you a writer?

How you know when you are a ‘writer’ : –
– You start day-dreaming on the setting of your latest novel and walk into a stobie pole
– You get hysterical in the café as the ink in your pen has run out and you have thought of a brilliant idea you need to jot down
– You are busy writing on the train and miss your stop
– You start arranging your children’s toys on the lounge room floor to try to work out a fight scene (“Die, My Potato Head,” said Barbie driving her pink convertible over his ears.)
– You call your boss by the name of a character you are developing (which is problematic when your character’s name is Captain Hinklebottom)
– You spend time procrastinating and writing silly quirks on your blog when you should be writing your novel


Night-time visitor

In the dark she sings,
She holds my hand tight in hers:
Limbs tender, voice soft.
Clouds part, the moon shines upon
Green skin, one too many arms.

The River Murray

She breathes from the hills
Opens her mouth to exhale
Tired she gasps for air

Haiku appearing at Riverbeats Live 09

The holiday

His spindly grey finger swirled haphazardly in the air before pointing randomly upon the galactic charts.
“So where are we going for our vacation?” she asked with bated breathe.
He drew back his finger to reveal their destination, an isolated blue-green planet.
“Bugger! Practice shot?”
“Practice shot,” she agreed.

The Holiday was first published in issue 124 of Antipodean SF

G’day world!

I have relinquished my technophobia and luddite status and joined the electronic world – facebooking and now blogging. Next thing you know I will be twittering and adding ‘i’s and ‘e’s as prefixes to all my words. Alas it looks like my humble ipen might succumb to a life of darkness bundled in my epencil-case.