Category: The Creative Well

Finding Fun

Because writing a novel is hard and takes a long time, it’s nice to be able to step aside for a while and write something else, especially something relatively quick and personal.

I have a little story here that I recently wrote and had published in the Society of Women Writers’ magazine, Women’s Ink, for their 100th year anniversary. It’s a story about a recent adventure I had with a bunch of women friends. They pushed me outside my comfort zone and taught me that the campervan life was a lot of good fun. So, here’s the story and I hope you enjoy it.

Finding Fun

Listening to the rain as I lie in the dark, I ask myself if this is fun. I’m dry. I’m warm. Actually, I’m quite cosy. But the noise of water on metal is loud and the boxy motorhome is shuddering. A clunk reminds me that I’m camped in a forest of gum trees, tall and spindly things, young and limber. Not widow-makers, fortunately. I wonder how my gutsy friend is coping in the swag. Is she still dry? Is she safe? Should I get up and go out, bring her inside to sleep on my floor? Would she already have crept inside one of the other girls’ vans since we’re all parked together in a commune-like square? We’re in this together, I remember one declaring before we left the last camp, a spontaneous and abrupt decision as another read the weather report. Shithouse weather approaching, the BOM said. We should go, Wonder Woman said. Waiting til tomorrow would mean setting up in the storm and possibly getting bogged. They all agreed. But, but… I said, panicking because that wasn’t the plan and my mind isn’t pliable. I’d been thinking a cup of tea would be nice, and then perhaps a stroll on Jimmy’s beach… Later, I was told with much hilarity that I looked like a stunned mullet.

The corners of my mouth turn up. I stare at the shadow of carpet-lined ceiling and recall my friends leaping into action, jollying me along as the newest member of the group. As the novice – the princess in the rented, oversized, Maui – I got a lot of encouragement. Once they had packed up their compact, perfectly fitted-out campers they assisted me with mine, cooing over the toilet and shower, the electronic bed, the three-burner cooktop, and laughing as they guided me to empty the toilet cassette and unhook the grey-water hosepipe. They were supportive and enthusiastic, and determined that we would be well set up for the Xavier Rudd concert in the Hunter Valley the next night.

I climb down the ladder from my elevated nest. I lift the blind and peer out, see nothing but phantom shapes. The white vans glow grey, their awnings slicing the dark. The swag looks ominous – a long, black, indiscernible body. Apart from the shivering trees and the falling of exhausted leaves, there is no other movement. I can’t see the rain. I can’t see my friends. I can’t see any reason to go out into the eerie and wet world. I use the luxurious toilet, then climb back up to bed.

Curling up on my side I think of my gum boots, the mud, and the other competent campers who decided to setup on the grounds early. The rain started on nightfall, just as predicted. My gang are a clever bunch. I feel smug that I’m with them. They taught me to play a card game yesterday, the first in my life. It challenged me and made me happy. I pull up the doona, snuggle in and smile. Yes, this is fun.

I had so much fun on this trip, I ended up getting my own campervan, a Toyota HiAce I had fitted out myself and called Roxanne. I’m looking forward to more adventures with my friends, fun times I’ll be sure to write about.

How have you found new ways to have fun in the various stages of your life?

The Publication Dilemma

Eight years ago, I started drafting a novel. The story came to me as I was settling in to my new life as a single woman. I journalled and talked to other women who were going through similar things – women in mid-life who were experiencing changes in their circumstances, bodies, hearts and minds. Complete with its three female characters, the story encapsulated many of those changes and how the women were transformed through dealing with them. The story may have been created in my mind, but it was as if it came to me on the wind, landing in my lap like a feather.

The message was clear: Ladies, you’re not alone and if you’re brave enough to be open and honest, to let go of certainty and take a chance, and to prioritise yourself (for a change), you’ll grow and you’ll fly.

The reason I’m sharing this is because the story is in danger of being grounded. The process of shaping it for publication is starting to feel like clipping its wings. I don’t quite know what to do next, but I know from experience that being open and honest helps.

For eight years I’ve gone over and over this story, drafting, editing, and re-writing it after each manuscript assessment, improving it but also shaping it to fit the genre of contemporary commercial women’s fiction. This genre is character and theme driven and according to professionals, this is where my novel sits. I get it. I agree. But, in some ways, it’s not fitting the mould.

For a start, a story with three protagonists (three character-arcs and three plots) has caused there to be a lot more words than today’s publishers want. It’s too big for the genre, especially for a debut novelist like me.

Another irregularity is that one of my characters leaves the other two and as a result has a partly separate story. Normally, in this genre, the main characters are intrinsically linked so that their actions impact on one another.

Mostly the story is set in Australia but this character returns to her birthplace, India, for a period of mourning. This leads to another editor’s issue: is it appropriate for me as a white woman to be writing from an Indian woman’s point of view? And why India? My answer is I’m fascinated by India, love the place and its people, and know women there who want their transformation story told too. And India has always been a part of this story, the one that chose me to land on.

So, what do I do? I have always said that I want to be traditionally published. I want the recognition, the kudos, the built-in marketing. But to be accepted I would need to make my novel fit the mould. And that’s not sitting well with me.

Is that because I’m a restless middle-aged woman who wants to do it her way and hopes to fly? Or because I’m a little woo woo and believe the story should remain as it arrived? Or because writing should be unconstrained art? Or simply because I’m running out of energy? I’m not sure, but I think I’m coming to the conclusion that traditional publishing isn’t worth the effort.

I’ll add one more reveal. My confidence rises when I’m happy with my writing, when I feel I’ve been genuine. It falls when I get back an editor’s report and try to make the writing fit a format. So, what is that telling me?

I want my novel to soar. I want people to relate, to get it, to be inspired by it. I’m willing to follow guidelines on good story-telling to give it the best chance. So I’ll give it one more makeover, pluck out a few extraneous scenes. But I must stay true to the story. I must write it how it wants to be written and include all I have to say.

It seems clear now that I need to be free of constraints, and when I write THE END this time, I need to be brave enough to publish it myself. Who knows what will come of it? But at least I’ll be setting it free.

Is manifesting thought alone?

Recently I had something occur that made me claim my manifesting skills were back online. Have you ever felt like that? Like you desired something to happen or some thing to appear in your life, and it did?

Once I regained my rationality – mind over feelings – I asked myself if it had really been mere contemplation of the matter that had brought it about or whether I had actually worked for it.

It led me to ask what I meant by manifesting skills. And what does it mean to manifest, anyway?

The relevant dictionary definitions for the use of the word manifest in this sense are:

1. To make clear or evident; show plainly. 2. To attempt to attain (something desired) by thinking or focusing intensely on it, especially as a spiritual or self-help practice.

Okay, so did I will something into being by exercising my mental powers and by the force of my belief alone? I don’t think so.

But… I had been thinking about it. I had been talking about it. I had been believing it would come. And when it appeared, I did recognise it.

So, maybe to manifest something we need to go through a process that’s part rational mind-power (self-help) and part heart-felt mysticism (spiritual practice).

It’s obvious that we need to know what we want in the first place; to be clear about it, to visualise it, talk or write about it, research it, imagine it as ours. We need to know what we’re aiming for, have a goal and an image of where we want to be. Dream big, reach for the heights, push past comfort zones, but don’t just wish for the moon and expect to land there. Pick a dream that’s possible, and actionable.

Actions make the dream grow. To start with, letting the idea germinate in a fertile heart and mind is good, but then we need to consciously feed it, prune it, shape it and take whatever steps are necessary to help it bloom. Manifesting can feel like magic, but I bet nothing is brought about without some effort.

This sounds like I’m all for the pragmatic, rational pursuit of goals. I am, but I also have faith in the inexplicable. Energy attracts energy. Positivity attracts positivity. I have an optimism that that comes from trusting in the Universe (or God, divine spirit, Atman) and my own energy. I believe my manifesting skills are a combination of both practical actions and heart-felt faith.

To manifest successfully we need to know what we want, be eager, be alert and be ready to seize opportunities as they arise. Think like an insect; focus on what you desire, use your antennae, be patient and then pounce. Go ahead; dream, act and claim your prize.

This month I’ll be doing my best to manifest a publisher for my novel. What will you be doing with your manifesting skills?

New Year Intentions

It may be a trite topic but who among us doesn’t feel at least a little inclined to start over, have another go, make a fresh list of TO DOs at the start of the new year?

Three years ago, I wrote a blog post about endings and letting things go at the close of the year. The two themes go together: endings and beginnings, closing and opening, death and renewal, pushing away and drawing in. Life is a constant zig zag and flow, a state of flux that is best left unblocked by the past and kept open for the future.

The new year is a man-made construct. In our regulated society, it’s a significant mark of the rollover of time. Historically, the start of each season was important, which makes sense since seasons affected human lives much more dramatically. But now, with our ability to move across the globe, to trade, to create warmth and cold, it is time that is most meaningful to the majority of us.

I am one of those people with a new list of TO DOs. I started it a little early because of a significant ending – the completion of draft seven of the novel I’m working on. There were so many things I was putting off until the writing was done that the list was long and haphazard. I’m glad I got started on it before the close of 2024 because now the list is manageable. I can plan and organise and satisfyingly tick things off. Even if your list is huge, I recommend leaving it somewhere obvious so you can see it and be reminded of what you would like to achieve; I don’t mean obsess, nor do I mean follow it to the exclusion of all other opportunities. But if it’s there, you can make conscious choices and it’s more likely things will get done.

Some people don’t like to plan. They’re spontaneous, perhaps reactionists. Perhaps they’re fatalists or spiritual or just really chilled and present. There’s something to be said for that; life can only be lived in the present moment, after all. If we carry too much of the past it influences the present and future. If we spend too much time projecting into the future, we miss what’s going on now.

But devoting some time to planning and organising gives us the opportunity to achieve things we want, to have purpose, to experience more of what life has to offer. Our society is time-driven and if we don’t pay attention to it, it passes unlived. If we want to maximise our enjoyment of life, a little planning can help.

Once my list is written and my visualisations are done, I am well on my way to letting life flow and much more likely to get where I want to go. Presence and spontaneity and surprise and wonder are, to me, the result of good planning and the actioning of a good new year list of TO Dos. The close of one year and the start of another is simply a good opportunity to make a fresh start. So far, listing intentions has served me well.

How about you? Are you a new year planner or a cruiser regarding the new year as just another day?

What is Ego?

What is ego? I’ve asked myself this question since 70’s band Skyhooks sang, “Ego is not a dirty word.” It seems it doesn’t have an easy explanation or a clear definition unless we accept the dictionary version which only touches the surface: a person’s sense of self-esteem or self-importance.

I’ve studied many spiritual, self-help and awareness books. I’ve listened to gurus and spoken philosophically with other learning friends. I’ve spent hours thinking, practising breathwork and being present in an attempt to be a more conscious, authentic, and connected person. During this process, I’ve tried even harder to understand what ego is, and why it might, after all, be a dirty word.

In his book, A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle thoroughly explains ego. I highly recommend reading or listening to anything this enlightened man says, but I’m going to do my best to summarise his words.

Ego is identification with form, primarily thought forms, but also physical and emotional forms.

What does that mean?

It means thinking we are our thoughts, our minds, our bodies, and our abilities. It means endowing with a sense of self, stuff we own, people we mix with, where we live. It means identifying with a type, a style, or behaviour.

Any conceptual sense of self – seeing ourselves as this or that – is ego, whether predominately positive (I am great) or negative (I am no good).

Behind every positive self-concept is the hidden fear of not being good enough. Behind every negative self-concept is the hidden desire to be better than others. Whenever we feel superior or inferior to anyone, we are being led by our egos.

The egoic mind is completely conditioned by the past. The content it identifies with is conditioned by upbringing, the environment, and our surrounding culture.

The ego lives through comparison. How we are seen by others turns into how we see ourselves, like a mirror that tells us what we are like and who we are. The ego’s sense of self-worth is in most cases bound up with the worth we have in the eyes of others.

The ego tends to equate having with being – I have, therefore I am. And the more I have, the more I am. This ego-identification with things creates our consumer society and economic structures. But things are identity enhancers and don’t last.

When forms we identify with are no longer there, the ego can collapse but quickly reemerge with a strong mental image as victim. Negativity, resentfulness, and bitterness form and as we criticise and complain, the ego gets stronger causing a feeling of superiority, which in turn creates more negativity. Our perception becomes selective and distorted causing us to see what we want to see and then misinterpret it. Life will not be helpful.

When we shift our focus from the external to the feeling of aliveness within us, we sense our essence, the formless dimension, the state of consciousness called Being that is really us. Any actions we take will be in alignment with the whole and supported by creative intelligence. There will be inner peace.

There is a deep interrelatedness between our state of consciousness and our external reality.

Realising that what we perceive, experience, think or feel, is not who we are, and understanding that the desire to stand out, be special, be in control, or have power comes from fear – the fear of being nobody, the fear of non-existence – leads us to the connection with our true, formless selves, our essence identities, and to all living things.

When we accept that it is ego – identification with culture and country and religion and roles – that separates humans and causes conflict and unhappiness, when we become aware that it is ego that limits us and prevents us from being compassionate, when we learn non reactivity and are peaceful with the present moment, we find ourselves attuned to a far greater intelligence than the cleverness of our egos.

All that is necessary to become free of the ego, is to become aware of it. Awareness is the power that is concealed within the present moment. It is called Presence. Only Presence can undo the past in us, thereby transforming our states of consciousness.

I finally understand that ego is an illusory sense of self, that it is limiting and harmful and masks a far greater dimension that is our true essence, the spirit within. Becoming aware of thoughts and emotions as they happen, accepting reality, and disidentifying with all types of forms which create negativity, allows that essence to shine and creative intelligence to win.

I, for one, now I understand ego a little better, will do my best to go beyond it and be my best and truest, most present self. I won’t pretend it will be easy, but awareness and practise will help. How about you? What’s your ego doing right now?

If you’re interested in furthering your understanding of the concept of ego and consciousness, I’d recommend:

Artwork created by Carla Simmons, Ric Holland and AI art tools.

Travels: Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Istanbul

When I told people I was going to Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan, many asked Why?

I admit, my knowledge of the place was limited to television documentaries like Joanna Lumley’s Silk Road Adventure  https://www.amazon.com/Joanna-Lumleys-Silk-Road-Adventure/dp/B091JNK3KC and Silk Road from Above, https://www.sbs.com.au/ondemand/tv-series/silk-road-from-above , but that was part of the attraction for me: not knowing a lot meant learning about it, first hand. I was drawn in by the idea of the first traders on camels, of wells and forts and ancient civilisations in the desert.

So, my answer to why was simply curiosity about places that had piqued my interest, plus, their closeness to Istanbul, a city I’ve wanted to explore for forty years, ever since an architect I worked for showed me his holiday snaps. I remember being in awe of the grand Islamic architecture, the aqua and turquoise tiles, the pretty patterns and ornate designs carved in stone and painted on walls. These elements, I knew, were also seen along the entire silk route. So, flying into and out of Istanbul, I had my desired holiday package.

A thousand photos and a journal later, I can say I had a good time and learned so…. much.

Istanbul didn’t disappoint. The Old City with the 6th century Hagia Sophia – the building that was the largest cathedral for a thousand years then converted to a mosque in the fifteenth century and houses works of art and symbolism from both faiths – and the underground Basilica Cistern – now a watery, sculptural gallery; the 17th century Blue Mosque with it’s gorgeous, glazed tiles; the Topkapi Palace with its museum of beautiful dining things – jewelled spoons and embellished ceramics. And the most fun thing – the indulgent and restorative bathing experience at the glorious, old city hamam https://www.hurremsultanhamami.com/en/. Think warm, white marble slabs, lots of hot water, a woman scrubbing your skin (if you’re a woman) and slathering you with liquid mud and bubbles and a soothing massage. Yes, it was divine.

Then, on to Khiva, Bukhara, and Samarkand (Uzbekistan), UNESCO World Heritage, Medieval, walled cities. The architecture, the frescos and ceramic tiles, the symbolism of the Zoroastrian and Muslim religions, the religious universities (madrassahs), the scale, were all so impressive, particularly when I tried to imagine the thriving civilisations who once lived there and the astronomers and mathematicians and philosophers who began our scientific world.

Learning about the history of these places, I felt as inconsiderable as a grain of sand.

That’s a good thing about travel and history – they give us perspective, teaching us we should live our best lives and not waste time on trivial worries because soon enough, we’ll be history too.

In the fabulous city of Samarkand, I learned that kindness is still alive and well. I had been sick, but thinking I was better, went for a walk on my own. In a café – where I’d gone to rest and have a coffee and donut (the plainest thing on the menu) – I suddenly felt very ill. The next thing I knew I was looking up at a gaggle of Italian tourists who fussed over and soothed me through fainting, vomiting and language differences. They didn’t back off until the paramedics took over. Long story, short, the Uzbek waiter was so nice to me I wrote him a letter the next day praising him and apologising. Had it not been for these strong, generous, compassionate people, my experience would have been even more horrific.

Events like these can turn us off travel, but if it wasn’t for some difficulties, how would we ever know how helpful people can be and how resilient we are? And it’s the challenges that make the best stories, anyway.

Like the drive from Fergana across the mountain range to Tashkent. Not only were there herds of goats on the highway, but the weather closed in, and we found ourselves in a blizzard. Soon enough, the traffic was jammed, all drivers trying not to slip in the snow. A four-hour journey turned to seven, but we were grateful to arrive unscathed.

Fortunately, that night we weren’t sleeping in either a yurt in the desert or a homestay in the mountains. On arrival at 9.30pm, we celebrated staying in a modern Hilton hotel (bypassing the sheik’s Rolls Royce parked at the door) and went straight to the bar.

The final adventure was Azerbaijan. This modern city has exciting contemporary architecture, ritzy high-end shops, oil rigs galore and good restaurants with personality and music. The ‘inner city’ is the old city contained within ancient walls, in which people still live. An hour out of town are rocks with Paleolithic petroglyphs (ancient rock art), plains of bubbling mud and cracks in the earth that breathe fire.

I haven’t mentioned the silk embroidery or carpets but believe me, this history and the examples we saw were captivating. It was hard not to bring home a suitcase of mementos, too.

In all, I learned a lot about civilisations of the last two thousand years, about astonishing leaders like Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, about wars and takeovers, about Russian occupation and withdrawal, about religions living side by side (and not), about the early, great thinkers, and the evolution of the silk trade. I learned that all three countries are secular (state affairs are non-religious) and in Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan, the dominant Muslim religion is very relaxed. I dressed modestly out of respect and always felt safe. I ate pomegranates and baklava, photographed cats and walked a gazillion steps. My curiosity is sated, and my understanding of humanity, greater.

Perhaps it’s for this that we should travel anywhere at all.

ISTANBUL

UZBEKISTAN

AZERBAIJAN

Mindset Hack



Thinking that you GET to do things instead of thinking you HAVE to do them, is a well-being hack I picked up from scrolling through social media this week.

Having a few minutes spare, I opened Instagram to vicariously enjoy friends’ holidays. I paused as a Reese Witherspoon video appeared and being a fan of this brilliant woman, I chose to stop and listen to what she had to say. Yes, it would take the few spare minutes I had, but that’s what happens on social media, so stay with me.

She has credited Steve Guttenberg for this insight, but I’m sure neither he nor Reese are the first people to pronounce it. The advice is: instead of saying you have to do such and such, say, I get to do such and such.

It changes the mindset – the attitude you have to the task or the situation.

I get to rise at dawn so I can write more of my novel. I get to exercise each day so I can stay healthy. I get to work, go shopping, do the washing, clean my house, make a phone call, go to the physio, walk the dog… You get the picture. I’m fortunate I get to do these things.

Changing the words you use changes the way you feel. Instead of feeling weighed down by a have to, feel uplifted by a get to.

The get to generates gratefulness and positivity.

I get to write my blog once a month. I love doing it because I get to express things that interest me. But I often reach the time it should be published – like today – and feel pressured because I also have a novel to write and a life to live. We all feel pressured by the things we need to do, right?

So, when I woke this morning thinking, I have to write my blog, Reese’s video came back to me. I changed that thought to I get to write my blog, and I instantly felt a little burst of positivity. It was just enough to make me see I also have a choice as to how much time to spend on it. And here is the result. I hope that you benefit from it.  

Why Write a Blog

Does anyone read my blog? Why do I write it?

These are questions I have been asked, from time to time, by close family and friends. Sometimes, I have asked them myself.

I don’t know how many people read it. I don’t look into the stats, and I don’t ask people I know. I do get a thrill when someone comments. Even a Like is enough to give me a ripple of satisfaction.

But I don’t write it for others. Not predominantly, anyway. I figure if my words are interesting and true, they will resonate with people. Perhaps someone will learn something. Perhaps I’ll change someone’s mind or expand it. That’s not my business. Expressing myself, is.

Self-expression is the main reason I write. I find it easier to write what I think than to say what I think. Writing gives me the chance to process a topic I’m interested in. I can research and whittle information down to concise points. I can think as I’m writing and then I can refine the words until I have a good understanding of a topic.

The reasons I specifically write a blog, though, are more diverse.

When I started writing a novel, I was advised by those in the know that a social media presence was necessary. That was a long time ago, back when I had no idea a novel was going to take me over seven years. I opened a Facebook page and started a blog. Regular input was advised, so I tried to write monthly. Sometimes I didn’t make it and there were blog droughts. But this year I am thoroughly committed because I can see the publisher’s light at the end of the tunnel. Blog Posts have renewed importance.

Another reason for writing a blog is that it gives me an excuse to follow varied and unrelated interests. I am interested in the natural environment, the topical issues in my community and my country, the mystical and spiritual, character traits, relationships, the craft of writing… so many things. My blog covers whatever piques my interest at the time. Sometimes it’s related to issues in my novel. India seems to be mentioned a lot.

Publishing monthly adds pressure to my life, but it also adds satisfaction. I get a buzz out of a Post’s completion. Since the novel has taken so long, these little bursts of goal setting and achievement are like snacks during fasts, roadhouses on a desert highway.

The writing is also practise. I get to refine my skill as a writer.

So, the why is clear. I write because I like to. It adds quality to my life.

As to the readers, I know I have a few. Sometimes, they have let me know that I’ve touched them. And that’s greatly satisfying. I like to think I have added quality to someone else’s life. It would be rewarding to know a Post of mine started a conversation.

If you enjoy a Post, it will help me if you hit Like, make a comment, and Share it. Two-way conversations are always better than monologues.

Maybe, after this Post, you’ll even be inspired to write your own.

India and My Soul

In November, I visited India for the fourth time. I’m drawn to the place like a magnet, like my energy is attracted to its, like my soul gets caught on the prevailing wind.

It is a land of fascinating human history, evidence of which can be seen in forts and palaces and temples. Its people are friendly and musical and resourceful. Of course, it has its problems, and like everywhere else in the world, they’re man-made, but sweeping the trash aside, India is a beautiful and exciting place.

Each time I’ve been, I’ve had a mission: the first was to visit the big sights of Rajasthan and South India; the second to do research for my novel-writing; the third to spend nine days in an ashram at a women’s festival focused on saving the planet (with my guru, Liz Gilbert); and this fourth time was twofold – to check out a residential school for disabled kids run by an incredible woman I met at the ashram, and the other, to join a group of writers in a tour aptly called Story Hunters.

The school turned out to be a treat, a happy place where kids were thriving. Kids who had suffered birth trauma, disease, or lack of pregnancy care, who would normally have no opportunity for happiness, were being educated, looking after themselves and each other in a positive environment, playing sport, laughing. I got to hang out with the girls in their common room, having my hands painted with henna, dancing.

The group of writers turned out to be an eclectic bunch of highly creative and deep-thinking women.

Story Hunters was the vision of a man who wanted to connect a bunch of curious, foreign writers with types of Indians who don’t often get to tell their stories.

Travelling with us was a young Indian woman with impressive qualifications who acted as facilitator, herder, and interpreter; a musician who played violin, guitar and wooden flute, who sang and wrote poetry; and an earnest, young videographer and documentary maker with the sweetest of hearts.

We got to meet with:

  • gypsies who live on the edge of the Thar desert, who perform dances, play instruments, and do tricks like pick up razor blades in their eyelids. Their pride and their personal stories of loss have affected me forever.
  • street-sweepers – a mother and daughter-in-law – who were accompanied by a male family member in order to be decorous.
  • a jeweller who broke away from his family’s traditional silver-smithing style to make highly imaginative artworks from metals and gems and fossils. He almost died from Covid, then a great light lifted from his chest, leaving him completely well.
  • a Naga sadhu in Benares (Varanasi) who was once a successful software developer who now devotes his life to attaining enlightenment.
  • a Sufi priest who explained that Sufism is about finding truth, liberation, reality, and love. He spoke eloquently, sang Kabir’s poetry, and played tambourine with dancing hands.
  • a tuk tuk driver in Delhi who turned his life around with the love and support of his wife – a love marriage between a Muslim and a Hindu that survived his drug addiction and imprisonment – becoming an honest business owner, able to put his sons through private school.
  • Hijras – people of the ‘third gender’ – whose personal stories of hardship, ostracism and desire for love broke my heart.

We spent days in India’s last living fort, Jaisalmer, and more by the great, holy Ganges in Varanasi. We visited ancient sites including a 350-year-old Mosque built with the remains of a Hindu temple and the remains of a city, reportedly abandoned 800 years ago. We learned about caste, religion, gurus, Hindu gods, and Diwali. We explored alleyways and danced on the river’s ghats, singing Hindi and Beatles songs with our very own troubadour.

My fourth trip to India turned out to be exceptional. I learned so much that it took weeks to process once I was home in the quiet, open space of Australia.

On reflection, I wonder if the gods play their part in returning me there, time and time again.

Vayu, the guardian of the northwest direction and the Lord of the Winds, may be my universal facilitator. No doubt, I will do this exhilarating journey again and like the much enjoyed roller-coaster of my childhood, I will find myself weeping with pain and blissful with joy. India burns in my heart and like the flame of the diya (the sacred oil lamp), it will remain the light of my soul.

REFERENCE

School for children with a physical disability – SKSN: https://sksn.org/

Story Hunters: https://www.blueswan.events/

Writer’s Journey – https://www.writersjourney.com.au/

An Emerging Writer’s Spiel

When it comes up in conversation that I’m writing a novel, I’m usually asked what my book is about. I’ve always struggled with the answer to this, not because I don’t know what I’m writing but because I never know whether to tell the story or whether to reveal what it’s really about, it’s message.

If I was asked by a prospective publisher, I’d want to give my twenty second pitch. But even that befuddles me. There’s the advice that as an emerging (unpublished) author, a hook – something vibrant and catchy – is required. But that’s so subjective I can’t formulate one.

My genre is fairly clear, at least. It’s contemporary – probably women’s – fiction. But if a publisher put literary in that description, I’d be thrilled. Literary fiction is what I like to read. It’s what I admire.

So I’ve created an answer that merges story with message and I hope it sounds intriguing.

It’s about three friends who are dealing with the challenges common to women in middle life. It’s about their experience of love and loss, family and friendship, and the choices they make to rewrite future chapters of their lives. It’s set in Australia, India, and Ireland over the course of a year.

This draft will be finished by June – I’m going for positivity – and then I’ll have another look at that pitch and send off my manuscript to the highly selective world of agents and publishers. I’ll finally walk the talk and show all my commitment and perseverance.

If anyone has any advice for me, please post it here. Likewise, if you like my spiel, encourage me with a thumbs up.

Happy reading, dreaming, and writing, my word-loving friends.