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.