My poor deluded friend Orville is sad. He knows now that he will never ride to the top of Mont Blanc. I keep telling him it’s academic, but that word has never brought comfort to a man in active mourning. The realisation came after Orville took possession of an electric wheelchair and he read the… Continue reading Retch for the sky

Journalism is a fine apprenticeship for fiction, provided you’re willing to unlearn large parts of it later. Top of the hit list is the inverted pyramid. I don’t remember being formally taught this template for writing newspaper stories. I suspect it was simply knocked into me. My first news editor was a crusty old bloke… Continue reading What Journalism Taught Me About Fiction (And What It Didn’t)

There’s a myth in writing that if you haven’t “made it” by a certain age, you’ve missed your chance. It’s a young person’s story, borrowed from sport and tech, and it makes very little sense when applied to books. Writing isn’t a test of speed. It’s a test of accumulation. Marina Lewycka published her first… Continue reading The advantage of starting late

Every now and then a glossy ad pops up promising a “transformational writers’ retreat.” The photos always feature windswept cliffs, steaming mugs and a dozen thoughtful types gazing into the middle distance as if waiting for their muse to arrive by helicopter. I’ve never attended one — not a single catered morning tea or group… Continue reading Beating a retreat

Every industry has awards. Actors have Oscars, musicians have Grammys, journalists have Walkleys. Writers, supposedly, have plenty too — although most of us will never get within sniffing distance of one unless it’s on display in someone else’s lounge room. So I’ve decided the time has come to celebrate the overlooked, underfunded and entirely fabricated… Continue reading Oh yes, I’m the great pretender