Tuesday, 27 May 2008

"A Royal Spectacle"

Henry did not care for venison. It was the kind of meat which looked down its nose and sneered at him, which was unacceptable. He was the King of England, after all. He held a great chunk of it in one hand, meeting it eye to eye like a challenge. Hot, powdery grease stained his raw hand, and he squeezed the flesh, sneering back as its juices evacuated in dribbles down his arm. Beside him, his wife Catherine Parr sat serenely, controlling an urge to be disgusted by his behaviour. Henry could sense, from her rigid posture and tight-lipped smile that she was nauseated, and rightly so. The stench from his festering leg wound permeated that morning's dressing so strongly that even Henry was aware of it. But that stench was his, and he took misguided pleasure in the uncomfortable politeness of his courtiers. Catherine reached gently for the decanter of wine and poured him another glass. Henry threw down the meat, licked his fingers and drained the cup. Catherine smiled at him encouragingly, but there was something else behind it. A pity, perhaps, that belonged to a mother resolved to her dying influence over a favourite son. It was not love. He did not look for love.

Henry belched loudly and began to prod again at the venison. The court watched him, too scared to touch thier own food until the King took his first bite. Catherine leaned forwards to refill his glass but he waved her back angrily. He was incensed, and would not be pacified with drink.

Finally, he raised the slice of meat to his puffy, cracked lips and allowed the venison to infiltrate them. He drew back his lips to show displeasure and chewed slowly, while all around him, the courtiers hurried to do the same.

Tuesday, 20 May 2008

Competitions vs. Exams

I wonder if all the competitions start to open up this time of year on purpose because many of the older competitors will be too busy to enter? This somehow seems likely.

I however am not deterred by these sneaky tactics, and am planning on entering 2 new competitions: The West Australian Newspaper's Young Writer's Contest, and the Scribblers contest (in which i can enter not one, but five! stories)

I have discovered now that being absolutely positively miserable or lost in my own head is to my own benefit, being that i can twist and manipulate details of my own life to write really great literature. well okay, not literature but getting there. At the moment, my stuff could be described as striving to forge a midpoint between Tim Winton and Melina Marchetta. It is definitely Australian however.

Writing is joy. I want to leave school forever and live like a bohemian in the cobbled streets of...some place with cobbled streets... where i can stare out my window and churn out page after page after page.....

Exams in less than 2 weeks prevent this.

Wish me luck!

Tuesday, 13 May 2008

Just some notes on a busy week...

How was my experience of the Tim Winton literary event? In one word? INSPIRATIONAL. Things like that always make me want to rush straight home and let my fingers fly across over the keys. It wasn't even that what he was saying was life changing. It was how he was saying it. The way he stumbled across words as he spoke about his life and his experiences, and how he seemed to settle into his true self when he began to read. I wanted to close my eyes and slip into the world of the book.

It seems that competitions are on again, so i'm trying to get some nice pieces written to send into those. One of them is the West Australian newspaper's young writer's contest, the other is something called scribblers which i have never heard of. Still, exposure is exposure.

I don't know whether i wrote about this or not, but sometime in the not too distant past, i managed to somehow corrupt the file that my current novel is in... and much tears and tearing out of hair resulted. Luckily, i've been in the habit of printing as i go (thanks to Jenny Doust) and all is not a hopeless shambles. It seems that at the moment i am running out of momentum on that one, and rather than ruin the story with substandard plotlines, i am planning on focussing on short stories. And exams.

Over and out.

Tuesday, 6 May 2008

My Life in the Cultural Wasteland?

Murphy's Law, after that last post, i discovered equally fantastic uni courses at two other universities, and now the jury is hung. Shucks.

Hello to cyberspace, and hello especially to any family members reading this post. I know that i am developing something of a cyber-entourage. That's pretty cool, so thanks, you guys.

So what to write about this week? I haven't spent this week composing insightful reviews of well loved classics, because, well, i haven't been reading any. Equally disappointing is my lack of writing discoveries this past week. It's all about the future, in the very near portion of which i will be meeting someone very inspirational... wanna guess who?

No new writing music... slow progress on my novel, although i am enjoying reading my own work which must be a good sign... no word on any competitions... no camps or courses... how dull...

So as i said, it's all about the future. I'm excited about my busy schedule, and about the culture i am going to be exposed to.

I'm really surprised that lots of people think that Australia and Western Australia are so lacking in culture... (sorry about my overuse of the ellipsis) It's just that i love Perth so much, it's clean and pretty and surprising. I guess because i'm a drama student i get to see a whole lot more of the culture side of things but, it's just a really great place to be. We have plays and concerts, and local bands up the wazoo, and then on top of that, we have whole districts like Fremantle full of artists and writer's and generally culturally in tune people. I'm friends with a lot of budding artists, and sometimes i don't get the whole bohemian thing, but still...culture. I love it. I love the atmosphere. It's like a permanent courting of the muse.

And on that pensieve note, i will leave to do something inspiring... or homework... whichever.

Bye everyone.