Launching my River

Although local media ignored it, and the masses stayed away, Monday night's official launch of my latest novel, A Muddy Red River, was a blast. Dapto Library hosted the event which was my first official book launch. I entertained the audience with a talk titled Why Aussie Men Love Asian Women.

The talk included two selected readings from A Muddy Red River. It was the first time I had read my work out loud to an audience, and I liked it. The talk was followed by a discussion, and some selling and signing of the aforementioned and perhaps one day best selling novel.

I dream. I dream of big things. I dream of success. I dream of many, many, many people reading my work. I dream of touching people with my words. I dream therefore I write. I've nearly finished the first draft of my next novel, Lovesick. I have big dreams about it as well.

What do you dream of?

P.S. I'd like to have more members in my group:Aussie Blokes who love and marry Asian Girls  If you know anyone who might be interested please let them know.

A Trip to Somewhere

I started back at work on Monday after a three week break for Christmas/New Year which wasn't quite long enough. That always seems to be the case. I had  numerous family gatherings -my nana and daughter both have birthdays in early January- watched lots of cricket, including going to two games, went swimming often (beach and pool), and I took a trip to somewhere.

I'd like to tell you about the trip which involved flying to a destination, buying a car and driving back, but I am currently plagued with all manner of apprehension vis a vis sharing my personal life online. My online presence has always been about two things: fun and book sales.

Book sales? Still waiting for those. Fun? Some of what I call fun is now being deemed insensitive and offensive which leaves me wondering what to say and what not to say. I have always considered myself to be a very circumspect person; cautious in word and deed, but it seems I have either been deluding myself or I have undergone a radical change. In any case, I find myself bridled, and I fear this is no good thing.

On the book front, my first novel, Devolution, will be re published with a new cover this year, and of course A Muddy Red River is also due for publication in 2015.

Top ten reads of 2014

The end of the year is the perfect time for top ten lists and everyone knows that top ten lists attract attention, especially if you use hashtags. So as well as providing the fascinating revelation of the ten 5 star books that I read in 2014, I am also, as always trying to attract additional readers to this much underrated blog.

Without further ado.. Here they are in no particular order.




Click here My Year in Books for the full list of books I read in 2014. 29 in total.

The Skill of good writing

I'm currently reading Debris by Jo Anderton and I am loving it. I don't know whether it is set in the future or on some other world. I presume future but it doesn't matter. Some science fiction fantasy stories are literally and metaphorically off the planet, while others manage to maintain strong links with what is relateable. You'll have to wait for my review, which will be glowing, but one clever thing I noticed Anderton had done in Debris was to change the name for a few everyday things like money and days and weeks. Money, for example, is referred to to as 'kopacks'. This subtle change, I came to realize, had the effect of making the setting for the novel both strange and familiar at the same time. I think that's very clever.

Debris by Jo Anderton

Premature reflection

It troubles me that I have not had a novel released this year, and will not. A Muddy Red River will be released next year, and my previous two novels were released in 2013, in January and September respectively. When I go full time I won't let that happen again. In fact I would like to release two books each year: one novel and one work of non fiction.

I've only had 8 short stories published this year so far, which although better than the 6 which were published in 2013, is still less than the glorious 18 in 2012. Mind you, I have not written a new short story since the as yet unpublished Dry Reach in December 2012. Maybe I should.

2014 has been a relatively quiet year for me as a writer so far, although personally it has been anything but quiet. Turbulent and intense. Maybe next year the tables will turn. Maybe they'll turn next month. Perhaps even today. Let's see.

The Flagpole

I've been looking a lot recently at writing competitions,  Winning competitions is a good way to boost the ego, and increase exposure. Depending on the award, there is a certain cache which comes with being a prize winning writer, aside from the joy and satisfaction of having your work published. The problem with many of the competitions is that there is a fee to enter: ranging from around $5 to as much as $100. I just don't have the budget to keep on paying for my work to be read and perhaps be short listed, or even awarded a prize. I don't know how 'prestigious' these various awards really are. I don't know what impact being a winner or a place getter would have on my profile.

Even for regular submissions of my short stories, I baulk at paying reading fees for the same reason as I have avoided subsidy/joint venture publishing of my novels. Despite their promises of massive exposure, they cannot guarantee sales so a choice to invest in a joint venture is risky. Even though I believe in the quality of my work, it is still a risk I am unprepared to take, because my novels don't sell. Hardly anyone knows about them. I have a dribble of visitors to this blog, and a dribble is insufficient to underpin a solid base of readers.

Anyway, I digress. I just wanted to tell you that I entered the prologue of my WIP in a writing competition. It will be the first test of what I know will be my best novel yet. If I win, that would be great publicity for the novel, but I am also interested in the opinion of the editor/judge.  Very interested. Stay tuned.

A question for writers: what is your take on writing competitions? Do you enter them? Have you entered them? Have you had any success?

Special offer

I am under exposed. Obscure. One way to gather more readers, is to get reviews posted by those who have read my books. If you are one of my treasured readers who have already posted reviews, I say thank you very much. If you are among those who have read one of my books, but as yet have not posted a review on the purchase site, may I offer this incentive.

Review one of my books and I will give you a free digital copy of one of my other books.

To those who have not yet purchased any of my books, may I offer this incentive. I will give a free digital copy of either Devolution, Loathe Your Neighbor or Ashmore Grief to the first 20 respondents. Simply leave a comment.

To those eagerly anticipating my next novel, A Muddy Red River, which will be brought to you by Rogue Phoenix Press, I say thank you, and stay tuned.

author website

The Pretty Good Gatsby

Yesterday, I showed  The Great Gatsby to my class of English language students. We had been discussing the successive topics of fame and fortune, and rich and poor, so Luhrman's adaptation of the brilliant F. Scott Fitzgerald novel was appropriate. It was the second time I had seen it, and what struck me was how much more I enjoyed it the second time. Pondering this, I realized that the first time I watched the film was very soon after I finished reading the book. That first viewing of The Great Gatsby was tainted by constant mental comparisons between the film and the book.

Readers know that by and large, films, no matter how good they are, are not as good as the novels or short stories upon which they are based. Why? Imagination. Nothing engages the imagination more effectively than a book.

I am prepared now, following my second viewing of The Great Gatsby to elevate its status from pretty good to great. Have you ever seen a film which was better than the book upon which it was based? 

Putting My Face Out There

Since the release of my first novel, Devolution, in paperback I have become a publicity hound. I am trying to sell my books in an extremely competitive market, and as much as I find it annoying to have to spend so much time on marketing, it is a necessary evil.

Twice I have appeared out the front of my local book store doing meet and greet, sell and sign.  I've also appeared at the library to talk about writing. I've been to local markets three times. I've been in the newspaper three or four times. I've been interviewed on local radio. I've had some exposure, but as yet I haven't broken through.

Last Wednesday, Dapto library hosted me as the guest author for their new program 'An Audience with..." It was a Q & A session with a group of people, most of whom had read my latest novel, Ashmore Grief, in their book clubs. They formulated some excellent questions which I was given in advance. I sat and was interviewed by the event organizer, Jo David, answering those questions and others that arose during the discussion. It was great. I loved being the centre of attention. There were nearly fifty people there, and I only knew 9 of them. I felt significant. I felt appreciated, and I felt tremendously encouraged.

Why? I've been reflecting on the occasion and how good it made me feel. To interact with people who had read my work, and to hear how they responded to it was thrilling. My desire as a writer is to touch my readers, to connect with them. On Wednesday night I was shown proof that I had succeeded. One woman said, 'I think everyone in Australia should read this book.'

I said 'amen to that', and I thought to myself how great would it be to sell 23 million copies. None of my novels have reached sales even in the hundreds yet, but now I believe that it is possible. If one complete stranger tells me they loved Ashmore Grief then there must be others. A writer's life is full of loneliness, discouragement and insecurity but last Wednesday night I received a massive injection of faith and hope.

Where do I go from here?

Today I'll experiment with writing a post without a title and without a clear idea of my subject. I usually know exactly what I am going to write about. Something will have occurred to me during the week, or even overnight: a thought, a movie, a book quote, a news item, a conversation might have fueled my imagination. I'm inspired by my experience of the world around me with which I interact, and by how I process and analyze my experiences.

Sometimes this propensity of mine to be over analytical is annoying, like the book reviewer whose critical eye robs them of the pleasure of the words they are reading. Mostly I accept it as part of who I am, and I use it to my advantage. I am intensely curious and this also is a blessing and a curse. My first question, and the only real question of import is why. Why do I do what I do, and say what I say? And why do others behave as they do? What motivates people?

Being a novelist I have the opportunity to explore the human psyche through fictional worlds. To examine and explore human nature, to push characters around, to drag them down or to lift them up, to force them to confront issues and deal with their demons. All the while, I am thinking about their motivation. I am asking why. I think this is the main reason I love writing. 

There is escapism, as there is with reading. There is also the acquisition of knowledge through research, and then there is the actual process itself: putting words together in such a way so as to not only convey your message but to touch your reader. What's not to love about writing. I even like editing and re writing!

Having come to the end, having reached a sufficiency of words, I can now declare this exercise a success. I began with nothing and I made something. The lesson to be learned: neither the beginning or the end of a journey is anywhere near as important as the journey itself.

A Successful Failure

I was pretty optimistic as I headed off to the local market this morning. On my two previous trips I sold a few copies of my first two novels. This time, I had a third, and I raised the ante a little with the table set up and bonus offers.

It's the first day of December and Christmas will be here in the blink of an eye so I had a sign which promoted unique Christmas gifts including signed copies of my novels, original artworks by my daughter, and free gift wrapping.With each purchase of one or more of my books, I offered a choice of one other book for free: Jo Nesbo, Bill Bryson and Jayne Buxton to name but a few. On top of all that, I was there to greet people and chat about books, or anything at all.

This sunny day was matched by my disposition. An early sale of Ashmore Grief, buoyed my confidence further. I needed one more sale to cover my costs, and then it was full steam ahead to profit town.

Five hours later I was watching the clock, waiting to pack up and go

home, wondering why I had not sold anything else. Curious as to why I had less conversations and less interest than last time. Apart from the one wise lady who purchased Ashmore Grief, only one other person even picked up a display copy and read the blurbs of any of my books. You can see the multitudes streaming past my stall in the photo above, and the masses queueing to meet me and buy my books.

It was bad enough for me to pretty much decide never to return. The stall next to mine, was manned by a husband and wife, visiting this market for the first time to sell new books, and lots of them for only $5 each. Talk about competition. 

They were a lovely couple though. The guy is a web designer, the woman an editor and book reviewer for Reader's Digest. They both work from home. It was great to meet them. It was cool to meet the guy who designed a quit smoking program which he wants to publish, and another who apparently gained successive, multiple free entries into a certain Kings Cross establishment. The woman who is writing her own dictionary, and the guy who loves to read and would have bought a book if only it were written in his native Spanish.


I'm proud of my work. The lack of sales and recognition for my work is no reflection on its quality. Today's failure proves that I believe in what I do, and ultimately, by the grace of God and hopeful persistence, I will succeed.

Thanks for reading.

The Great Escape

The popularity of television, books and movies testifies to our desire to escape the humdrum of everyday life. Certainly, many books and television shows are watched for their educational value, but what we really want is entertainment. We want to be transported, if only in our imaginations, from where we are to some other fantastic place. From reality to fantasy. Along the way we happily gobble up debaucherous immorality: lies, sex and violence, and why not? We aren't doing it, and it isn't been done to us. Living vicariously through fictional characters is safe. It is also both amusing and instructive vis-a-vis human nature.

After many months of wondering what happened after the explosion in the final episode of season 14 of ER, and then subsequently forgetting about it when we couldn't watch it because it wasn't on TV and Leading Edge video store which supplied us with season 1 -14 didn't have season 15, we watched the final episode of the Australian police drama, Blue Heelers. Not being able to follow the trials and tribulations of the coppers at Mount Thomas was a blow, and by the time we neared the end of season 14 we were in despair. How could we go on without our much loved friends in the Victorian police department? And then, season 15 of ER appeared on the shelf at Leading Edge. Hooray!

Last night we found out what happened after the explosion at the end of season 14. *Spoiler alert. One of the main stars, a favourite character who had morphed from an annoying and narcissistic cowboy of a doctor, into the chief of the ER and everyone's best mate, appeared to have survived the explosion. He made it out of the ambulance and into hospital where it was eventually discovered that he was much more seriously injured than first presumed. Fatally injured in fact. First episode of a new season and they killed off one of the stars of the show. It was shocking, gripping, and emotionally draining, which is exactly what you want from television drama.

Dr.Greg Pratt died a horrible death. After the funeral his friends gathered at the local watering hole to eulogize him and eat deep fried mozarella sticks in honour of him. As we watched those deeply moving scenes, I felt a bit teary and I wanted to eat a deep fried mozarella stick. Then we watched another episode. Life carried on in the emergency room of County General, as it did in our home where after episode two, I brushed my teeth, went to bed and slept peacefully. Untouched. Unscathed. Safe, warm and well.

I cannot imagine a world without such entertainment. The escapism provided by the amusements of our culture is a reflection of who we are: empty, craven, and broken.The breadth of human experience, the highs and the lows, can be encapsulated in a forty minute episode, a two hour film, or a three hundred page novel. And it's all fake. Realistic? Sure, but completely counterfeit. All our hopes, our dreams, our fears, our grief, our suffering and our joy is there for us to enjoy, but how much or how little of this experience is our own?

The Book I had to Write

I could describe how I feel if I tried really hard but it is such a potent cocktail of emotions that I am afraid I would be rolling drunk before I could finish. Nevertheless, here it is.

My second novel, Loathe Your Neighbor, was released today. I started writing it over two years ago. I ask myself why I spent so much time and effort to write something which may or may not, at that stage, have ever made it into "print". As recently as last August, I had no interest from publishers and nothing but hope that I would eventually find one. Even in this digital age where independent self publishers outnumber traditionals (whatever that means) I had no compelling reason for writing another book.

By the year 2010, I had been writing for 12 years. I'd had a handful of short stories published and even got paid for one of them. Twice. I had written a novel, Devolution, and published it as an e-book through a fee for service online publisher but it was as successful as ice cream in Antartica. I was proud of my achievement but I wanted more. I wanted readers and lots of them. I self published a paperback version of Devolution which out sold the e-book by five times but I did not want to do that again. I wanted an editor to read my manuscript and tell me they loved it and sign me up for a publishing deal. This is what all writers want. Yes, we write because we love the art but we want readers.

Why then with nothing but a story to tell and a dream of many people reading it, did I write Loathe Your Neighbour? I wrote it because I had to. More than two years later, Jeanne Haskin at Artema Press has delivered half my dream: a publishing contract. The other half? I still don't know what the trick is to attracting readers. Maybe there is no trick. Popularity is not a reflection of quality. There's a video on YouTube of a girl in a tight black dress brushing her teeth which has received tens of thousand of views.

I'm proud of Loathe Your Neighbor and I hope lots of people read and enjoy it. I wouldn't mind making a little money out of it as well. Neither would Artema Press. But even if it doesn't fly, if it doesn't sell up a storm, I'll write another novel. I can't help it. I'm a dreamer and I love writing stories.