Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hi, my name is Tamara Pratt and I’m reading from a manuscript that I’ve been working on while staying at Varuna with Marele Day for Crime Week.

CHAPTER THREE

Abigail swung her cherry-red Panamera into the driveway and caught sight of Manny’s handiwork. The veranda rails were freshly finished. The man’s woodturning skills were masterful. Engraved in the horizontal ruts were individual leaves, shaped like the ones you’d find dangling from the branch of a dry eucalypt gum – brittle and scorched from the summer heat. Each hand-carved leaf twisted to a narrow point, the contour resembling a scorpion’s tail: poised, ready for a threat, ready to sting.
Something extra in her Highgate Hill house to make her feel at ease.
There was only one drawback to city living: small parcels of land, little room to move. There were no four-car garages or gated mansions set on hundreds of acres. Here, the houses closed in on hers like night on day, but that’s how she wanted it. She traded the space for the security of knowing there were nosy neighbours, and most lived up to their reputation.
The memories of the fire at Burbank still lingered. Richard had organised the rebuild of their house, but Abigail hadn’t returned. It wasn’t home anymore, not when she’d lost so much. Even her marriage couldn’t rise out of those ashes. The paradox was they had survived; and yet, they hadn’t.
She could hear the scratch and whine of her dogs at the backdoor. Dropping her car keys in the hallway bowl, she meandered through the house, zigzagging around the sofa, the coffee table, past a cabinet. In this house, she took particular care to position her furniture in a non-linear fashion. Harder for an intruder to move around; easier to escape if you owned the home and knew where you had staged an item. A lesson learnt too late in her Burbank property.
She pushed aside the French doors that extended beyond the open plan living room and let in chaos. The dogs leapt at her side, their gangly legs slipping and sliding on the glossy timber floorboards.
“Who’s missed me?” she said, scratching their backs and ruffling their ears. “You want your biscuits?”

ABOUT TAMARA PRATT:

I am an author of short stories, and have a number of credits to my name. I currently have two novels in draft.  My genres are predominantly thriller, crime and suspense, and I  particularly like to create story settings in Brisbane and throughout Australia. I reside in Brisbane with my husband and three children.

“From October 17 – 23 in 2011, I spent a Professional Development in Residency week at Varuna with Marele Day for Crime Week.” Tamara Pratt

 
PUBLICATION:

Various short stories published in USA anthologies.

CONTACT:

tamara@ptpratt.com.au

0423 282 620

www.tamarapratt.com

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

If you would like to be part of Writer-a-Day submit your application via our online form

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hi, I’m Sheryl Gwyther and I’m reading from my Junior Fiction work-in-progress, FANGUS FEARBOTTOM.”

Chapter 1
I crouch on my window sill above the twilight garden. The mango tree branch is a long way off, the garden path a drop below.
Doubt sends a shiver up my spine. I don’t know anyone else who’s tested the Fourth law of the Great Vampyre Reformation of 1812.
Who am I kidding? I’m not testing, I’m about to break the fourth law.
I wriggle the fear from my toes and stare at the rising moon. If the vampyres of old could leap across space, why can’t we?
My puny leg muscles tighten, ready for the launch.
Five … four … three … two … one …
BANG!
The bedroom door flies open.
‘Stop!’ Mum shrieks.
‘No!’ Dad yells.
I wobble in fright. Then tip forward, clutching at the air. Dad grabs my pyjama shirt and hauls me back inside.
My hearts slides back into place as I straighten my shirt. ‘Phew! Thanks, Dad. I was trying to fly, well, not exactly fly, more like leap. Like the ancient vampyres.’
‘Fan-gus Fear-bottom!’ Dad’s voice wobbles. His face is grey, his moustache droops on either side of his mouth. ‘I’m … I’m … lost for words!’
Mum, unfortunately, has plenty of them. ‘How could you do such a stupid, dangerous thing, Fangus? You know the Fourth Law … You shall not shape-shift nor leap across space. What if the others saw you? They’d report us.’ She’s not talking about our human neighbours. ‘What possessed you to even want to break one of the laws?’
Granny Fearbottom shuffles through the door in her fluffy, bat-face slippers and dressing gown. Batty Bat perches on top of her silver hair. I think Granny must’ve been eavesdropping from the corridor.
She signs out a message with her fingers.
‘What’s she saying, Fangus?’ Dad asks. ‘It’s too fast for us.’
I translate Granny Fearbottom’s flickering fingers. ‘She says I can do it if I really believe in myself. Fly, I think she means. Or leap across space.’
Mum’s face turns red. Granny Fearbottom scuttles back to her bedroom.”

ABOUT SHERYL GWYTHER:

Childhood experiences in north-west Queensland’s dinosaur fossil country inspired my first Junior Fiction adventure novel. Since its publication, I’ve written short stories, magazine articles and plays, and visit schools and libraries promoting writing and books. In 2002, and again in 2009, I received ASA Mentorships and have also benefited from a May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust Fellowship.

“My week at a Varuna Masterclass (under Peter Bishop’s direction) rates up there with them. Brilliant experiences!
It was a fantastic opportunity and I learned so much from Peter’s insightful input. He also inspired me to keep going. I’ve never forgotten his wise words about the difference between ‘the writer’s copy’ and the ‘reader’s’.  It’s why I’m very happy to continue to support Varuna House.”

PUBLICATION:

‘Secrets of Eromanga’ – Lothian Books/Hachette 2006
‘Princess Clown’ – Blake Publishing 2010
‘Charlie and the Red Hot Chilli Pepper’ – Pearson Australia 2010
‘Corn Dolly Dead’ – Black Dog’s Short & Scary Anthology 2010
‘Anansi and the Sky God’s Stories’ – school play, The Schools Magazine 2011
‘Scaredy Crow’ – short story, New Zealand’s schools’ Junior Journal #42 2011

CONTACT:

via Varuna

http://www.sherylgwyther.net

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

If you would like to be part of Writer-a-Day submit your application via our online form

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hello, my name is Péter Zilahy and you’re going to hear a short excerpt from my novel, The Last Window Giraffe.

Bath time was during the news. Every now and then mother would look in to see if I was all right. Dad was watching TV in the living room. To protect me from the lies they had to know the details. I could hear mother sighing – what a mess I was making, I’m flooding the apartment. I dived down. Under the water I heard a voice telling me what had happened in the world that day: a landslide killed a hundred and fifty people in Bangladesh, a revolution broke out in West Africa, a new kindergarten and an Olympic swimming pool were opened, and MTK beat Fradi 2-1. I had no idea who was sending the messages, or why, but clearly they had plans for me, because they also told me what the weather was going to be like. The following day I could distinguish several voices in the tub, which pointed towards an organization. This manner of communication seemed logical. I couldn’t send them messages, because you can’t talk under water, and they could only get in touch with me without my parents and teachers knowing during my bath time. I didn’t understand why it was so important for the organization that I should have detailed information on the latest war games in Poland, or which Transdanubian towns were being granted city status, but I knew that if I paid attention, sooner or later I’d be given a sign. My life gained a deeper meaning under water. When one Sunday mother was washing my hair and, unsuspecting, she pushed my head into the water, a pleasant female voice whispered in my ear that the harvest had been flattened by hail. I knew immediately what was expected of me, and to be honest, I had no objections: to make a big mess. Even before then, I used to battle submarines and fighter planes in the dark, after going to bed, and sometimes I would end up on the floor, so it was only due to my dogged persistence that in the end the victory was mine. From that day on, I sabotaged the development of our people’s democracy like a busy honey-bee. Earthquakes, power failures and gas explosions marked my way. I would figure out the location of military objectives on the basis of intelligence I received in the bathtub. When a factory or a power plant was inaugurated, I would be there, doing what I had to do. Comecon fiddled at repairs behind the Iron Curtain, little suspecting that a stone was being thrown inside the glass house.”

 Translated by Tim Wilkinson

ABOUT PETER ZILAHY

Péter Zilahy was born in 1970 in Budapest, Hungary, but now lives in Berlin. He is currently Writer-in-Residence at Varuna and will be performing his work at Varuna on Saturday 28th January from 1pm. His prose and poetry are widely translated and he often performs on stage, combining photography and interactive media in his work. His collection of poems, Statue Under a White Sheet Ready to Jump, was published in 1993 and won the Móricz Zsigmond Prize. His dictionary novel, The Last Window Giraffe, was published in 1998 and has since been translated into 22 languages and become a cult novel. It has won multiple awards including ‘The Book of the Year Prize’ in Ukraine, and has been adapted into an interactive CD-ROM and a live stage performance. It directly influenced the Orange Revolution, when activists in Kiev used the book to stage events on the streets. Since 1998 Zilahy has been senior editor of The World Literature Series, first at Jak Books and later at Gondolat Publishers. In 2001 he was a visiting scholar at New York University. He regularly publishes his essays in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, in the Tagesspiegel, Die Welt, The Guardian, The Financial Times and most recently in the New York Times.

PUBLICATIONS:

Statue Under a White Sheet Ready to Jump, 1993 (poetry)

The Last Window Giraffe, 1998 (novel)

The Last Window Giraffe CD-Rom

Drei, 2003 (prose)

Three Plus 1, 2007 (several genres)

Der lange Weg nach nebenan, 2007 (theatre play)

Regular essays in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, the Tagesspiegel,  Die Welt, The Guardian, The Financial Times and the New York Times. Most recently, in January 2012, “The Aftertaste of Goulasch Communism”.

CONTACT:

http://www.zilahy.net/

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

If you would like to be part of Writer-a-Day submit your application via our online form

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hi, my name’s David Spitzkowsky. I’m reading a piece of short fiction called “Fantasy”.
You want to hear my fantasy?
Here goes: I just disappear into Canada. Since I was eight years old I wanted to do that. Must’ve been the trip to Niagara Falls, all the old photos of those crazies coming over the edge in barrels. After I get way up into the Yukon I stop at this little roadside cafe. The woman behind me won’t stop smoking. I get asthma you know.
‘Would you mind, I’m sorry, I just…asthma…’ Oh holy shit. It’s Joni. It’s Joni Mitchell.

Bloody Joni Mitchell.
I’d had to get out of Canberra and I was leaving on the 7 pm bus to Melbourne. My lover was half the afternoon in his studio with his staple gun listening to Hejira. Again. I was furious. It happened when I was in the shower I guess, when he was cleaning his teeth at the sink and still managing to bang on about Joni Mitchell and about being misunderstood. ‘Do you really think you’re so different to everyone else?’ I asked.
‘At least I don’t think I’m better than everyone else.’ The knife through the shower curtain and both our guts all over the bathroom floor.
I took my doona, I got on the bus. When everyone was asleep I carefully reached up to the overhead rack to get my ham sandwich. I pulled down my bag and unzipped the zipper. Something fell out and rolled away from me: two foot long and eight inches wide, all pink and white tulle. Ribbons and giant orange lace bows for goodness’ sake. I had to scurry down the aisle to get it. On the Pioneer bus in the middle of the night, just near one of those endless turn offs to Wagga Wagga.
Neil had spent hours packing and wrapping me his canto recorder. It’s the sorriest thing I ever owned. Someone once said that the saddest three words in the English language are: it’s too late.

Now Joni’s brash but shy and sensitive so I’m not sure what to say. I decide to pretend I have no idea who she is.
‘I love you Joni,’ it tumbles out of me.
We’re supposed to drive off across the prairie together but it always ends like this.
‘Get a goddamn life,’ she says and turns away.”

ABOUT DAVID SPITZKOWSKY:

David lives in Melbourne still inspired by the triumvirate Patti, Joni and Laurie (Smith, Mitchell and Anderson). Undertaking the RMIT Professional Writing and Editing Diploma and working on a novel, short stories and some non-fiction.

“I came to Varuna on a two week writing fellowship retreat in March 2011 and returned for more words and contemplation in Sep 2011.” David Spitzkowsky

PUBLICATION:

short stories and fiction in Victorian Writer, Page 17, Visible Ink and the upcoming spring/summer edition 21D
CONTACT:

spitzk(at)hotmail.com

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

If you would like to be part of Writer-a-Day submit your application via our online form

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hi. I’m Meg McKinlay and I’m going to read two poems from my collection, Cleanskin. Both of these were inspired by travels with my young daughter past a cemetery near our house in Fremantle, Western Australia.

and the first is called On Being Agnostic

She’s weeping because Atlantis
is drowned and there are no more
dinosaurs. The earth as they knew it
erased by a comet and these things still
madly orbiting our lives. And all I can give her
is what are the odds?, trace the shape
of an ancestor in a crocodile’s ridge-hard
lines. But hope’s not enough when what you mourn
is a wild meat-eater, a reed-necked
creature. What she needs is the lion
lying down with the lamb, old bodies
made new again, stones rolled away. She’s weeping
because she wants a spiny-backed
brother, because the sun’s light takes eight minutes
to reach the earth and you never know
when you’re already living
on dead time. Every morning, traffic backs up
past the cemetery and there are so many graves,
she says, how can the earth hold them all?
In her dreams, she’s hunting
infinity; my only offering plus one,
plus one.

And the second poem is Ancestor Games

In Hong Kong,
they give you 7 years – no more,
to shake loose that heavy flesh
and settle your bones into the earth,
Then they crumble you into brass,
to spend the rest of your death
squatting on mantels,
blind witness to the living.

In Japan, you find a corner
of the house, sometimes a seat
at the table, compact and sweet:
mandarins are the flavour of death.
And they pause, now and then,
in the midst of their breathing,
to open and close shutters
on the quiet business of the dead.

Here, our lavish bones crosshatch
the suburbs, push skyward
in columns of vehement stone.
Unruly skeletons lay
stubborn claim to acres; we picket
our dead yards, drunk still
on horizons, this luxury of air.

(Here, in this comforting vastness,
we spread our deaths
across all tomorrows,
as if the end of us were also
the end of the world)”

ABOUT MEG MCKINLAY:

Meg McKinlay is a poet and children’s writer, with publications ranging from picture books through to a poetry collection for adults. She lives near the ocean in Fremantle and is an Honorary Research Associate at the University of Western Australia, where she has taught Australian Literature, Japanese, and Creative Writing.

“In 2003 I spent a glorious week at Varuna attending a Residential Masterclass and every year since have made ‘absolutely definitely this year without fail’ plans to return. While life conspires to keep me away, I make do with a photograph on my desk of Varuna’s delightful admonition, ‘Please Do Not Disturb the Writers’. It was at Varuna that I first began to believe that ‘writers’ was a group that might legitimately include me.” Meg McKinlay

PUBLICATIONS:

Poetry
Cleanskin, 2007

Meg’s poetry has also been published in journals such as Westerly, Blue Dog, Famous Reporter, LiNQ and Etchings.

Children’s Books

No Bears, 2011
Surface Tension, 2011
The Truth About Penguins, 2010
Duck for a Day, 2010
The Big Dig, 2009
Going for Broke, 2008
Annabel, Again, 2007

CONTACT:

email : meg[at]megmckinlay.com
website : www.megmckinlay.com
blog: http://megmckinlay.blogspot.com/

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

Hello, my name is Michael Giacometti and I’m reading an excerpt from Elijah Upjohn, public hangman.

Hanging is a fine art and not a mechanical trade. Is not a man an artist who can painlessly and without brutality despatch another man?

- Charles Duff, A Handbook on Hanging

I come to prepare him & he be ready. It be a little after 9am & he just been brung up to the last room. After this no more room, no more cell. If I be a godly man then I might say diffrent but no god can love him. Hair falls to the bluestone floor, long dark hair from his beard & head. I sharpn the razor & think maybe I can end this early, but I be wantin to do my first job well. Today Im the ringer & I run him over like a prize ram. His skull come up good & shiny. I dont leave no nicks.

I done the measurments & Mister Doctor he help me my sums not bein good. The culprit he says must be weighd evryday so it can be done proper, not messy. He show me this book he keeps writ all fancy with pictures of knots & bones. I grunt at the knots, paw at the pages. I dont tell him I’m unread but he know.

The Doctor be very particlar that it not be messy. He dont want no bruises or cuts. He say it be like crackin a whip. I think it like pullin a black snake from the grass & crackin its neck. A quick death makes good eatin after, the flesh be sweet & tasty.

I like the feel of his shiny bald skull. I be quick, not be suspishus. But I aint felt another for longer than my life is worth. It be so smooth. I can feel the heat risin from the roundness. I take special attenshun to the small dips & lumps, run my finger along the scar above his right ear. It be not less than five inches I can tell even with my eyes closd.

ABOUT MICHAEL GIACOMETTI:

Michael’s fiction, poetry and creative non-fiction have been published in Meanjin, Island, and several anthologies including Fishtails in the dust, How to look after your poet in the event of a cyclone, and Bruno’s Song and other stories from the Northern Territory. His story about Ned Kelly’s hanging ‘Elijah Upjohn, public hangman’ won the 2010 Trudy Graham Biennial Award (Prose). He is a Café Poet with Australian Poetry, and a Clubs & Societies poet with The Red Room Company. Michael is working on his first novel ‘This landscape of failure’ with mentor Melanie Ostell.

“I participated in the Varuna LongLines Community Week, October 2009. A very supportive and constructive writing environment. I yearn to return. To write. And walk in the hills.” Michael Giacometti

PUBLICATION:

close up, beyond (2011, poetry), acquiesce & four other fictions (2010, short stories) both self published and available from the author
CONTACT:

 http://michaelgiacometticafepoet.wordpress.com

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hello, my name’s Craig Billingham. I’m going to be reading 3 poems today, all of which are in some way related to public transport. The first poem is called: “The Fan”.

The Fan

Are you a fan? the woman said
and then sat down.
I didn’t know what she meant –

I imagined she was famous.
I watched the back of her head
but nothing came of it.

I tried to read
but I couldn’t concentrate.
The bus turned left, then stopped

at my stop.
Standing to get off,
I blew gently on her neck.

The second poem is called:

Eglise

From the morning bus
I saw a woman
nursing a wounded bird

in her mouth,
and then I saw
the wounded bird

was her mouth.
I blinked and looked again,
but a truck was passing.

…. and the final poem I’m going to be reading is called:

6.10pm to Lithgow

You were on my train
again tonight,

summoned
in bits and pieces,

your kneecap worn
on a student’s elbow,

her pared-back nails
bitten as your shy lips.

A Chinese man
was hiding your shoulder-blades

within his shirt,
the daylong cotton

translucent as tired skin.
As a businessman

crossed and uncrossed
his legs,

his brown sock
smuggled your anklebone

and the wisdom
of heel before toe.

A grey woman
sniffled on my shoulder,

a sound like
webbed feet

through muddy water.
I thought of you.

And again,
as your polished hair

got off at Blaxland,
I thought of you.”

ABOUT CRAIG BILLINGHAM:

Craig is a Blue Mountains based writer. His poems have been published in many Australian journals, including recently in Heat, Meanjin, Snorkel, and Antipodes. Craig’s poem “The Fan” was published in 2011 as part of The Red Room Company’s Sun Herald “Extra” Series.

“I launched my poetry collection at Varuna in 2007, and regularly attend readings and launches. I’ve also been a judge for a Varuna Manuscript Development Award.” Craig Billingham

PUBLICATION:

Storytelling, poetry collection published in 2007

CONTACT:

bil7cr(at)yahoo.com

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hi, I’m Eleanor Limprecht and this is an excerpt from a novel that I’m writing called Koel.

The Wednesday of mothers’ group Rachel always thinks: I don’t have to do this. Nobody is making me go. But if she didn’t, it would be worse. This is her chance to see other mothers, other babies, and to open up the tiny world that she exists in with Lola for an hour or two. The early childhood nurse has left them to their own devices but the woman’s judgemental eye lingers. None of the mothers are quite honest with one another.

These are the things that are safe to discuss:
•    How little sleep you are getting. How much your baby wakes.
•    The colour, consistency and/or frequency of his or her poo.
•    The cute, smart, sweet or amazing things your baby has done.
•    Ditto except your partner.
•    The annoying qualities of your partner.
•    How much you dislike your mother-in-law.

These are the things you could discuss if you were feeling brave:
•    That you gave your baby some formula.
•    That you miss your job.
•    That you have (or haven’t) had sex with your partner since your baby was born.

These are the things you would never discuss:
•    That you hate this.
•    That you think about letting go of the pram. On a steep hill. On a busy street.
•    That you have hidden all of the sharp knives.
•    That your body is no longer your own.
•    That you don’t want to be touched – ever – by anyone.

And so Rachel manages to hide her misery. She just talks less than the other women, listens more. They meet in cafes or parks if the weather is nice, often by the water’s edge, spreading out rugs, bringing toys for the babies, watching them roll and kick together in the sun. They take turns with food. Some mothers bake elaborate tea cakes – almost an affront in itself –others just stop at Coles on their way, or Bakers Delight, or the French patisserie up the road.
In her mind, Rachel rates the get-togethers. One being the worst, ten being the best. The ones and twos are when Lola is the only one crying. When a mum talks about how she never thought it would be this easy, or good, and she wouldn’t give it up for the world.
There has never been a ten but the better gatherings, the fives and the sixes, are when someone (not her) breaks down. When another mum’s week has been hard and her baby hasn’t slept and her husband hasn’t understood. And there are tears, and tissues, and assurances that “it will get better”, “it will get easier”. Rachel would never do this. She couldn’t bear a public audience for her pain. But it calms her, watching other women break down.
She likes to imagine being that open with her emotions, being able to talk about things. She likes to imagine what it must feel like to be consoled by a group. To be accepted.”

ABOUT ELEANOR LIMPRECHT:

I am a Sydney-based writer and journalist. I write book reviews for the Sun Herald and I have written one unpublished novel and have two more in progress, including Koel, which is a novel about a woman with postnatal depression who leaves her husband and child. I am originally from the US and moved here in 2002. I have a Masters in Writing from UTS.

“I have been to Varuna once on a residency in 2009. It was a wonderful experience to be in an environment dedicated so completely to writing. I was shortlisted for the Varuna Harper Collins award for manuscript development in 2007 and shortlisted for the Varuna Publisher Fellowship awards in 2011.” Eleanor Limprecht

PUBLICATION:

Articles and reviews in the Sun Herald, the Sydney Morning Herald, the Age, the Australian and various other publications.
A poem, “Hot Air Balloon”, published in What you do and don’t want UTS Writers’ Anthology 2007.

CONTACT:

Email: elimprecht@gmail.com
Agent: Lyn Tranter at Australian Literary Management
Web: eleanorlimprecht.blogspot.com/

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

Hello, my name is Roanna Gonsalves and today I’m going to read an edited extract from a short story in progress called The Skit. Lynette, is an Indian student in Sydney and has written a skit. She’s just mustered up the courage to read it out  to her group of friends:

After a minute’s awkward silence Lynette felt compelled to ask, “So, what did you all think?” In reply Roslyn immediately said, “Oh that was, that was, God! You poor thing, why didn’t you tell us you were going through all this!”

Lynette was surprised. She had envisioned many possibilities regarding the comments she would receive after this reading. But the assumption that the skit was autobiographical made her sick. “No No, it’s not, I didn’t…”

“You mean that you made it all up? It’s what … what’s it called … fiction or something?”

“Yes”, she said, unsure if admitting this would mean she was more skilled as a writer or less skilled.

Paul, who had not even taken one sip of his whisky during the entire reading now drained his glass and said, “Lynette, Lynette! Who would have thought the little two year old girl I saw running around in her panties in Bombay would one day write like Salman Rushdie! Read it to John Greenaway, he’ll be very impressed”.

His wife Roslyn said, “You know me, I don’t beat around the bushes. The play is great, you are a great writer, but when you talk about the Student Welfare Officer, the villain, he’s Australian?”

“Yes”, said Lynette

“White, you know, Anglo?”

“Yes”, said Lynette

“Like John Greenaway”, said Roslyn, “We don’t want to offend John Greenaway. He’s also Australian. What if he thinks you were writing about him? He’s coming here to enjoy my vindaloo after all”.

Paul added, “Poor fellow just got divorced”.

“Wife left him”, Roslyn interrupted, “Don’t want to offend him. You’ll just have to cut out the Student Services Officer”, said Rosyln, as a matter of fact.

“And another thing, small thing, but I think I should mention it, don’t want you to get into trouble”, said Sanjay, “but in the court room scene, you actually mock the judge! That’s a bit risky don’t you think? I mean, you want the judiciary on your side right? It is a good speech she makes, no doubt, the victim; you’re a superb writer, what emotions you have captured! But why risk it? So much time and money you have spent here, why risk your application being rejected?”

“That’s true”, Lisbert said. “You really deserve to get Permanent Residency Lynette”.

“Just take out the judge”, Roslyn said, “you don’t need all that drama in the court room.”

ABOUT ROANNA GONSALVES:

Roanna Gonsalves is an Indian Australian writer. Her unpublished novel Salvation Apartments was longlisted for the Australian Vogel Literary Awards in 2009. As a PhD candidate at UNSW she is writing a collection of short stories, as well as conducting an empirical study of the globalized literary field. Recent work includes the play Yet to Ascertain the Nature of the Crime for which she and her colleagues won an Australian Writers Guild Award 2011. Her work has been performed/published across various media in India and Australia

“Varuna has been, and continues to be, the Berocca for my writing. I have always felt nurtured and empowered as a writer in that gorgeous house, by that generous community of writers that is Varuna.” Roanna Gonsalves

 PUBLICATIONS:

• Curry Muncher: short fiction published in Eureka Street June 23, 2009
• Doosra: The life and times of an Indian student in Australia. An illustrated essay/radio documentary for ABC Radio National’s 360 program
• O Other Where Art Thou: an article published on The ABC’s The Drum/Unleashed website on Mar 19, 2010
• Multiculturalism and Mainstage Australian Theatre, a refereed academic journal article published in the Journal of the European Association of Studies on Australia, Vol.2. No.2, 2011

CONTACT:

Email: roannag@gmail.com

www.roannagonsalves.com.au

+61 (0)415842201

http://www.facebook.com/roannagonsalves

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.

Click on the arrow above to listen  (In emails: click on the title above)

“Hi, my name’s Tracy Sorensen.
This is from a work in progress called Port Badminton. This piece is written in the voice of entomologist Dr Harry Baumgarten.

I’m sitting here with a little fire, a little boy scout fire, and an enamel mug for my tea. I’m listening to the chiming wedgebills, the endless circularity of their call. Did you get drunk? Did you get drunk? I have for many decades held a keen interest in birds, even though by training I am an entomologist. In two years I will be seventy years old. Look at these brown legs, the same brown legs I’ve always had, cheerful and determined, terminating in a pair of sturdy brown sandals. And well-developed calves, oft remarked upon. These legs have tramped through the decades, through the undergrowth, over sand dunes, down the aisles between banana plants, getting lashed and stung and sometimes gouged and cut as I chased and caught and catalogued thousands of insects and birds.

I’m here to record the chiming wedgebill. Last time I attempted it, in 1965, I was diverted from my task.
It occurs to me to pin myself down, for once and for all. I want to pin myself down like an insect pierced through the thorax with a long silver pin. This urge has come over me before, but I’ve always managed to sit it out or head it off with some pressing thing or other. A journal deadline. Consulting work. The fourth revised edition of my Wonderful World of Australian Birds.

To pin myself down, then: It was exactly here, on this spot, that Linda Johnson got out of the Johnson family’s new blue station wagon. She was coming to see me. I was lying in my tent, surfacing from deep sleep. I heard the car door through the canvas and my heart sank. I was still drunk but now, unlike a few hours earlier, I had clarity of mind. I knew I had to send her away. I did indeed send her away. I wish I had done this well. Instead, I threw my binoculars around my neck – why did I do that? – and emerged, fully dressed, having adopted a defiantly chipper attitude.

She’d just stepped out of the car, a beautiful young woman with long black hair. She was in the same dress she’d been wearing a few hours before, smoothing it down with both hands. I barely glanced at her. I was leaping out of my tent chattering about birds. At this she sank back against the flank of her car. She was a picture of the word deflated. We exchanged a series of meaningless inanities, entirely at odds with the intensity and honesty, well so it seemed at the time, of our conversation a few hours before. Then she got back into the car letting her hair hide her face. She drove away into the barest shred of early morning light, the shred that the birds were already singing to.”

ABOUT TRACEY SORENSEN:

I grew up in Carnarvon on the north coast of Western Australia. I’ve worked as a journalist and video maker and now teach these subjects at Charles Sturt University in Bathurst.

“My involvement with Varuna began back in 2008 when I won a place in the Pathways to Publication Masterclass. Since then, I’ve made a point of getting back there once a year. In 2010 I won the  Penguin/Varuna Scholarship for my work-in-progress.” Tracey Sorensen

PUBLICATION:

Lots of magazine and newspaper journalism; just a couple of published short stories.

CONTACT:

Website: www.squawkingalah.com.au
Email: tsoren@tpg.com.au
Twitter: @Squawkingalah

In March 2012 Varuna is hosting its inaugural “Doctors Who … ” event. You can view the program and MJA writing competition by clicking here.

Varuna has been funded by the Australia Council to produce a Varuna Writer-a-Day “app”. When we have recorded 365 writers the app will be made available via the iTunes store. In the meantime, if you subscribe to this free blog, you can receive a daily reading delivered to your email inbox which can also be directed to your mobile phone. To find out more about Varuna’s programs, residencies, events and support services for writers click here.