Thursday, April 21, 2011

New-Age Pen

Usually, when I think of something brilliant and want to write it down, I struggle to find a pen or a piece of paper to record my inspired thought.

This may be due to two reasons:

1. my inspired thoughts often happen at strange times and places - no, not the toilet!

2. my inspiration, flashes of brilliance and WOW moments happen when I least expect them to.


Unexpected Places

I can be driving in my car, sitting on a train, or filling the trolley at the supermarket and POW! A great story idea,
opening line,
or snippet of dialogue knocks me over
begging for me to WRITE IT DOWN.

And we all know what happens when you don’t write it down ... sadly, like my secret stash of liquorice allsorts that I keep on the pantry’s top shelf out of my children’s reach, these brilliant thoughts somehow disappear before you know it and you can’t remember having them at all.

BUT unlike the liquorice, I can’t go out and buy another packet. Creative thought and inspiration doesn’t work like that, not for me.

Keeping a pen and notebook in my handbag isn’t a difficult thing to do, however I have recently found an even better way to avoid future ‘no pen and no paper’ moments in my life. I’ve started using the ‘notes’ app and ‘voice memo’ app on my iphone.

Technology is a wonderful thing, and although it will never replace the way I feel about a pen and paper, it is a great tool for getting down those early nuggets of writing gold.

By Anna Brasier

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

My Twitter fight with Catherine Deveny

A few years ago a friend got me onto Catherine Deveny. I spent a long while looking forward to her column in The Age and enjoying her appearances on Q and A. The thing that drew me to her was that we seemed to share a lot of the same thoughts. Women’s rights, atheism and a dislike for bogans were all I needed.

After a while I started to realise that Catherine isn’t quite as funny as I thought. By now I was following her on Twitter and getting a daily dose of the world according to Catherine was becoming a bit too much. It dawned on me that truly funny people pick on everyone. Catherine only picks on the people she thinks she is better than, and trust me, that’s a lot of people.

My friend had long ago dropped her from his Twitter feed but I was still hanging on when I saw Catherine tweet this: Fuck The Pope by @TimMinchin http://bit.ly/b9cB17 #blessyou. It’s a link to a video by comedian Tim Minchin that I will admit I have never watched. I couldn't get past the title and Catherine’s smug little #blessyou.

This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was suddenly furious at this vulgar woman who constantly criticises those who shove their beliefs down other’s throats but has no ability to practice what she preaches.

I shot out: @CatherineDeveny @timminchin I'm all for slamming shit religious practices, but what happened to respect? It felt great! But it didn't end there. To my surprise I received a reply: @shelikestowrite Respect is code for please leave us to discriminate with our religion approved hatred and phallocracy.

In the space of about a minute I had decided that Catherine Deveny was my enemy and that we were at war. I fired back: @CatherineDeveny No. It's code for have some maturity and people might actually hear your message. Now I was really revved up and texting my friends to log on and watch the battle. Turns out it was already over. I got nothing back. Not one little tweet.

I must say my life is a little better after this incident. I have since unfollowed Catherine and realised I may need to be a little more careful with who I choose to look up to.

Although she was probably just caught up in her ego, I do like to think I am the person that managed to silence Catherine Deveny.

Hayley Ashman

Monday, April 18, 2011

Step one ... get your writing out of the house.

The Easter break is a great time to unwind and enjoy the autumn sunshine.

Maybe you like to enjoy ...

  • a few lattes or drinks out with friends,


  • go to the footy and let off some steam at the opposition


  • lie on the couch with a good book and lots of yummy chocolate.
It is also a great time to get your writing out of your
head,
notebook,
or scribbled notes
and send it out into the BIG WIDE WORLD of publishing.

Writing? I did say writing, didn’t I? When, amongst all the reading, researching assignments, handing in work and eating chocolate do you get time to write, let alone send your work out there?

As a new and emerging writer the thought of one person reading your work, let alone many people reading your work is scary. However, if you want to be a writer, eventually someone other than your teacher or your mum, your boyfriend or your girlfriend is going to have to read your work.

A great way to start testing the waters is to try competitions first. Most competitions are free to enter, although some do ask for an entry fee - this ranges from $5-$20.

There are competitions to suit all styles,

  • fiction,


  • non-fiction,


  • poetry


  • sci-fi.
The best thing about competitions is that your entry is anonymous to the short-listing panel. They don’t know who you are and so when they read your story, they are looking at your work, not YOU.

This is a good thought to keep in mind, especially if you are unsuccessful.


It’s not you, it’s the story.


That leads me to another topic ... rejection; more about that another day.

You can find information on competitions from your local library, school campus, and the Victorian Writers’ Centre (VWC). The VWC has a log book full of entry forms which you can photocopy or ask them to mail out.

By Anna Brasier

Friday, April 15, 2011

More Holiday Homework

I lost my faith in humanity the other day. No, it was not some kind of profound experience I had where someone did something horrible to me and that sort of thing, you need to actually leave the house for that to happen. It was when I tuned into the radio and on came a song by techno/rap group 3oh!3 called "Don't Trust Me". It contains the lyrics, and this is no joke "I said shush girl/ shut your lips/ and do the Helen keller and talk with your hips". Three words, "WHAT THE FUCK?"
For anyone who doesn't know, Helen Keller was the famous girl who was blind and deaf and through the help of a committed teacher and carer, was still able to learn to communicate with others and lead a meaningful life. The story of Helen Keller is an inspirational tale of succeeding despite severe adversity, as 3oh!3 would have you think, she was a sexy deaf/blind diva who communicated through a series of girating and thrusting.
Are they serious? Or is it a tongue in cheek comment on the way pop culture references are used meaninglessly just to fill in lyric space in awful, awful songs. I'm guessing, since the song also contains the lyrics "don't trust a hoe", it would be the first option, don't exactly sound like the most lyrically profound group do they. Their music's shit too!
Meaningless pop culture references in lyrics by awful artists in an attempt to sound profound are all around these days. The Black Eyed Peas are a repeat offender. Although it isn't exactly an endightment on the artists themselves. They can't help being shithouse wastes of space.
The fault lies at the feet of the public who are actually stupid enough to like this crap. Matter of fact: if you like Kesha, Train, Black Eyed Peas, Ben Lee, Usher, or any other of the hundreds and hundreds of people who are simply out there who like an artist simply because "they're hot" (except Ben Lee, he's shit and hideous), you're part of the problem to which I earlier pertained, and more urgently and seriously, you're a moron.

Jackson Clarke

Jackson's post

I was required to submit to this blog. But at this stage I have absolutely nothing of any relevance or interest to say, so I guess it's the right time to be blogging. But enough with the jokes (that was a joke?), I guess I should say what I have been doing or thinking or whatnot, but my dilemma is I have not been doing or thinking anything. I have been dedicating my time to mastering the latest addiction of Grand Theft Auto (yes I meant to type "addiction" instead of "edition", another "joke"). I just clocked it and then remembere I have a life outside of this game, not much of a life but a life nontheless. GTA is kind of like crack, well not really but it's just as addictive, well not really but it seemed like a clever comparison when I started this sentence and I'm not going to edit my blog cos that's just crazy talk. Edit a blog? Whaaaa? I'm not editing my blog... You edit your blog if you love the idea of edited blogs so much. Just did a word check and I'm nowhere near the required amount. I could just repeat the same word over and over again the way I did for nanowrimo (another joke I would never cheat on such a thing), but I think these people actually read what people are writing on their blog. Part of the reason I don't use this as a means to incite racial hatred come to think of it. Damn honkys bringing me down! Sitting down listening to Mark Ronson sing the Bike Song. As you can probably guess it's about selling heroin to teenagers (geez what's with all the drug jokes this guy's got some issues). It's actually about riding a bike. Go figure. Just hit the 300 word mark and it's coming up to 2:30 on friday morning so I better be off to bed. Half my holiday homework requirement is now done. Am I a good student or what (no, not really).

Holiday Homework

For some reason I added to this blog but it pasted to the 2009 blog. If anyone would like to have a read they will find it in the 2009 blog.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Toast!

Toast was never one to refuse a good bit of buttering on a lonely Saturday night, but tonight was different. He had gone to the ‘Breakfast Club’ to meet with the guys, have a few drinks, and then it was on to business. It always helped him to have a few drinks before a job. Forcing somebody to their final meal was never a pleasant thought, but what he did paid the bills and kept him in jam.

The girl who was all over his buttery knob tonight and he would have made Bacon himself go to the final meal just to get into her crumbs, but work had to take precedence. Toast excused himself from the bar, sculled his maple syrup, said good bye to his friends, who were busy showing off their fake browns to a couple of young eggs, and left the club. He set off south, to the Vegemite Pits and his grim task.

The Vegemite Pits had that yeast smell that made Toast’s crusts shudder, his memory reeling back to the old days when he was part of the Nutritionists morning line-up, doing stand-up comedy to all those young minds. He shook the feeling off and continued down the road, eager to get his job over and done with.

Toast ended up outside a dilapidated warehouse, with the words ‘Kellogg’s Sucks’ sprawled in bad graffiti on the side, that made his already bad feeling get much worse. Nothing ever good came out of a warehouse mission, least of all his crumbs. Equipping his Cereal Shotgun, Toast ventured inside, cautiously checking every corner and darkened area for anything that might pop out and make him drop a load of bread in his trousers.

He sensed movement behind him and whirled around with knife-like speed and brought his shotgun to bear, “Stop! Identify yourself or I’ll spread you all over floor”

“Don’t shoot Toast! It’s me, Pancake”

Toast lowered his shotgun as Pancake emerged from a dark corner.

“What are you doing here Pancake?!”

“I heard you were going after Cheese and I wanted to give you some backup”

“Alright fine, just don’t get yourself killed”

Toast reluctantly allowed Pancake to stay, and they both ventured deeper into the warehouse.

——

“I don’t know about this Toast, maybe we should turn back and go home”

“Stop whining Pancake”

Toast was busy looking through some of the offices in the second floor, with Pancake giving out his objections when he spied movement in what he suspected was the main office.

“Shut it Pancake!”

Toast, ignoring Pancake now, moved through the offices carefully, trying not to scrape his edges. He made it to the office and could clearly hear voices inside. He quickly peeked through the nearby window and made sure the target was the correct one; satisfied, he straightened himself up, milked his Cereal Shotgun and kicked in the door.

Toast let fire his Cereal Shotgun, smearing and spreading all who were in the office. When the smoke cleared he could see Cheese was now full of holes, as were his henchmen, Cubed and Grated. He turned around to leave, saw Pancake cowering in a corner, collected him up and went to the exit, back into the Vegemite Pits.


Written by J. W. Holland