Friday, November 30, 2007

First Blurb

This is kind of exciting. And you can pre-order it, hint, hint.

I've just turned a corner with my new kid's book, so this was a lovely thing to come across today.

Thursday, November 29, 2007


My current writing gig is going to involve lots of visits to the theatre over the next year, all in the name of verisimilitude. Which is very cool, because I haven't seen a lot of stage plays, and I'd forgotten how much I like them. There's something dangerous about the stage that film and television can't reproduce, it lives and breathes and when it's working it's wondrous, and a bit scary.

Heroes was great, if you're in Brisbane and get the chance to see it, I can heartily recommend it. Barry Otto, Max Gillies, and Robert Coleby put in wonderful performances, and the script is a delight. It's a beautiful, bittersweet comedy.

Had a couple of story sales of late. 2008 looks like it will be a very good year for the World of Trent in Print*.

*Yes, there is an actual world called that, it's not very interesting, except when it is, though when I go there all I ever see are the flaws in the scenery, and the zippers in the suits, and the sense that the world's progenitor doesn't have a very good eye for detail.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Some Post Election Sketches While Watching the Insiders

Ernie listens to Alexander Downer.

Ziggy considers social change.

Cosmo finds Andrew Bolt's rumminations on the future of the Liberal Party fascinating

Diana muses on a female Deputy Prime Minister.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Short Stories

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but the longer I write short stories the less I understand how they work, or why one thing will work sometimes and not others, and why some things work for some people and don't for others, or why the only way to talk about short stories is in generalities (but as the form is so varied, that kind of makes sense, so I guess I do).

Here's an interesting link, worth checking out if you haven't already. I think Richard Ford is a marvelous short story writer, and this article rings true, but even if it doesn't it's quite an interesting piece.

Ziggy Asleep on the Chair in the Study

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Okkervil River

March 1st Laneway Festival - Okkervil River. Tickets bought. Trent very happy.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

One Perfect Day

Saturday is my sacred day. Coffee in the morning, pottering about in the afternoon.

Today was just about perfect. I had some excellent coffee at my local, bought Diana a copy of Summer Heights High (one of the best, darkest, funniest Australian comedies in years), went for a walk that was more running than walking, then took the dogs to the park. In between which I mowed the lawn, did the laundry, spent a bit of time plotting "The Players", and lost a game of Scrabulous.

Can't get much better than that.

Friday, November 09, 2007


All them there writers striking in the US.

Don't you ever come back now.

You all hold out.

Don't you ever come back.

Voice over. Explosion. Something, something. Get me the President(G.M.T.P.). Morse Code. Something. Something. Toy franchise. Why, I just saved the world, because I was brave. Voice over.

Don't you ever come back now, you hear?

Monday, November 05, 2007


It's humid today. Yesterday was worse, but today it's gotten under my skin. I had an errand to run that involved walking to the next suburb over. By the time I got back I was a ball of sweat, the air containing more moisture than my socks.

It keeps threatening to rain, but I'll believe it when I see it. Until then, Brisbane is stuck in that pre-storm humidity, an electric miasma. The dogs unsettled, and I'm grumbling about the humidity, which may be why the dogs are so unsettled.

Come on. Rain. I dare you.

Sunday, November 04, 2007

On the Birds

It's been a crazy couple of weeks, unsettled on a lot of fronts, which has meant even more irregular blogging, so I was determined to just relax and not do much of anything today, and I succeeded admirably. The only thing I wanted to do was think about a story I've been meaning to write on birds, part of the research involved reading Daphne du Maurier's "the Birds", because I'm in the mood to play a few riffs off other stories, and I just wanted to get a feel for the tone of the story, and to see if it matched the thing that's bouncing around in my head.

To my shame I had never read "the birds" before. Sure, I've seen the movie three or four times, but the short story is a different creature altogether, and a wonderful one. It's about as perfect a horror short as you could want, beautiful rhythmical writing*, wonderful characterisation, and a quiet, precise sense of place, not to mention rising menace.

It's hot and humid in Brisbane today, sultry as all hell, but while I sat reading that wonderful story all I could feel was the cold.

If you haven't read it, you should.

*truly muscular prose in an unadorned, but not bland, sense here's the opening paragraph:

On December the third the wind changed overnight and it was winter. Until then the autumn had been mellow, soft. The leaves had lingered on the trees, golden red, and the hedgerows were still green. The earth was rich where the plough had turned it.

It's that first sentence that's a kicker for me immediately setting the tone. Fantastic.