No-one sings like you anymore

This quote resonates with me because reading, writing and music are such big parts of my life. I was lucky enough to see Chris Cornell, one of my favourite singers, perform live four times. Gone but never forgotten.

A good song or a good film or a good book, they don’t work because they’re making you feel the pain of the characters, they work because they’re tricking you into feeling your own. #HigherTruth

Posted by Chris Cornell on Saturday, 5 September 2015

Cascade at the Adelaide Botanic Gardens, South Australia

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‘Cascade’ – sculpture by Sergio Redegalli

I took this photo of the ‘Cascade’ glass sculpture by Sergio Redegalli when I attended amazing bestselling fiction author Fiona McIntosh‘s Commercial Fiction Masterclass at the Adelaide Botanic Gardens in South Australia. Apparently this piece weighs 12 tonnes!

I only realised just now that the reflection of the Palm House on the left hand side looks like part of the wave. And yes, that is a duck photobombing on the other side of the water.

I’ve previously written about attending other writers’ weekends with Fiona – you can read more at An author’s journey – the business of writing (2015) and Business of writing – building your brand (2016).

 

Done and Darbie’d – story intro part 2

Following on from yesterday’s post Done and Darbie’d – story intro part 1, here’s the second part of the introduction to my short story, which was published last year in The Never Never Land fantasy fiction anthology.

Dead tree at sunset

He loathed it; the wilderness, the witless horse beneath him. His fear of these ominous, overgrown hills was boundless. Fear that ran its chill finger down his spine in the dead of night, the fear of being lost while a dead man’s boots trod in his wake, a ghost seeking retribution.

Done and Darbie’d – story intro part 1

I’ve been playing around combining some of my writing with my photos – what do you think?

It took a special kind of man to ride out into dense scrubland hunting escaped convicts, but Tyrek Lind knew he’d never be that soldier. He inhaled sharply as a cluster of eucalyptus brushed past his face; a scent he knew would strengthen as the Port Scar sun climbed over the forest canopy.