Northern Territory Writers' Festival

Excited to be heading to the 2019 Northern Territory Writers’ Festival, in May, to speak about ‘A Constant Hum’ and how it relates to this year’s festival theme:

Lyapirtneme, which in Arrernte translates as something growing back or appearing again, after an absence. 

Shoots after fire, the wooden bones of houses slowly reappearing, loss, love and more—’A Constant Hum’ explores the aftermath of fire in relation to the Black Saturday, Australia’s worst recorded natural disaster.

Book your flights now, and watch the website for more information as it pops up. The line-up already looks so brill.


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'Hope Shines' anthology out now

The ‘Hope Shines’ anthology is out and you can buy it. Find my my short story ‘Saltwater’ inside:

His mouth tastes a little like cigarettes, but also a little like mint cream. Like promise—a little like beer.’

‘Filled with determination and human spirit about people who overcome the odds with courage and strength' - the Honourable Quentin Bryce AD CVO

‘Powerful perspectives on the world at large from unique and authentic voices' - Cate Blanchett

‘Stories enrich both the storyteller and the story-reader, bringing new understanding and new perspectives to both.‘ - Kate Grenville

Royalties from the sale of this book will be donated to the Hope Prize.

Brag Bookshelves Series - Interview

Brag asked about the writers / books I admire x

What books do you have on your bedside table?
"I keep a stack, always. At the moment it’s Warsan Shire’s Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth, Robbie Arnott’s Flames, Lucia Berlin’s A Manual for Cleaning Women and Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie’s We Should All be Feminists. My partner also recently gave me Decolonising the Mind by Ngugi wa Thiong’o, which is at the top of the pile too. There’s also Pulse Points by Jennifer Down and another Patti Smith gem, Woolgathering. Also Staying by Jessie Cole."

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Peter Carey Short Story Prize

'Clearing' has been shortlisted in the 2018 Peter Carey Short Story Prize x


' ... Wendy was sitting on the deck on a Monday, maybe a Tuesday, when she noticed it all first; it was the bits of sediment in her cup of tap water that marked the beginning. Theo was a dot to her, halfway down the hill below—in his navy blue work overalls, plastic earmuffs and his small orange chainsaw quiet at his hip. The taste of the dirty water made Wendy look, really look, for the first time out over the block ... '

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