Meanderings through Miscellaneous Effervescence the Sequel

Werrrrrrrrblerrrrrrrrrrmmerblle …

Good. Glad that’s out of my system!!

I am tired. Pieces of my brain are running everywhere and my head just feels … stretched …

Last week, a number of friends were very kind in assisting me as I practiced writing ‘commissioned haiku’. For approximately 2 hours, all I did was haiku! Thanks to the creative suggestion of my friends, I wrote about everything from angry geese to pimples …

((((WARNING!! PROMO ALERT! PROMO ALERT!)))

And you can read all about it now in my zine: What does the wind eat for breakfast?

I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to have the time to put a zine together, or if it was even one of my giftings, but I decided to knock up something to take along to the dotdotdash launch party next Friday (4th September!!!). I’ve never sold my writing before, so you can imagine I’m excited!!

What does the wind eat for breakfast? actually takes it’s title from a haiku I wrote whilst in Maureen Gibbon’s poetry class in 2007. The haiku was part of a collection called ‘The Confetti Meditations’, four of which appear in the zine itself. As well as ‘The Free Haiku Sale’ collection I wrote last week, What does the wind eat includes ‘The Haiku Diary’ – another collection of haiku written during my 2nd Honours semester in amongst thesis stuff as a sort of stress-relief. dotdotdash was kind enough to select one of the ‘Diary’ entries for the poetry section of Issue 1. (I can’t wait to get my hands on that magazine!!!)

As much as I would like to distribute these little booklets left, right and centre as presents for everyone, I can’t really afford to at this time. I exhausted my pocket money last week by purchasing the following assortment of things from the newsagency that I thought I would need to make a zine:

1. staples (which we already had)
2. paperclips (which I did not use)
3. a new notebook (which turned out to be extremely useful)
4. a big fat ream of cream-coloured paper which looked like it had been on the newsagency’s bottom shelf for at least 3 years and probably should have been sold to me for cheaper …
5. a roll of ‘cello-tape’ …

So, you see, until I cover the costs of making my zine, I will just have to demand a few dollars from anyone who would like a copy of their very own. Is that terribly greedy of me? Seriously, though, if you would like a zine, please let me know! I will reserve a copy for you …

I am still figuring out how to get our printer to print the zine properly … hmm …

On Tuesday, I participated in the 12-hour writing marathon (which actually became a 14-hour marathon .. with an extra 3 hours added to it by me after I got home) held at the home of SJ Finch. I’m still not sure why it was called ‘Birds Ate My Face’, although the avian reference may have inspired me to include a crow in the story I wrote … a crow NAMED ‘Crow’, who took a very long time indeed to enter my story … and the house IN my story …

ANYWAY, it was glorious. Together with SJ, Alex, Max and Sam, I spent the day typing away on my own little project. We were encouraged, if we had no current project to work on, to write a story for the John Marsden Prize, which closes today at 5pm.

I had a terrific day – so good to have so many laughs in one sitting. AND I was allowed a sneak-preview of dotdotdash (… man, it’s breathtaking!!) We ate spring rolls, and drank many cups of tea, and SJ made the most fantastic shepherd’s pie for dinner.

BUHHHHHT, I was disappointed that I still hadn’t quite finished my story by the time I left at 11:45pm.

I did it, though. I’m not sure how, or what possessed me, but I did it. I sent this email to SJ the following morning:

After driving Alex home, I got to bed (about 1am) and set my alarm for 6:15. I woke up, finished my short story whilst sitting in bed with my laptop (and while Mel snored along on the mattress on the floor beside my bed). At 8:40am, I was printing my documents and writing out submission forms. At 8:45 I was throwing on proper clothes and saying goodbye to Mel as I flew out the door. At 8:55 I was at the post office doing the whole ‘express post’ thing. At 9:10 I was calling work from the post office carpark to let them know I was running late (duh!). At 9:15 I was in the McDonalds Drive thru ordering a bacon and egg McMuffin meal (something I have not done in years … can’t remember the last time I ate a fastfood breakfast!) …

At 9:33 am I was clocking in at work. Blerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr …

I don’t know if John Marsden will like my story, but at least I gave it a shot. And the lady at the Post Office assured me that it would arrive on time. I do hope she wasn’t lying …

So, afhdklhdsfjhkl: I’m very tired.

P.S: On the 17th of August, I was invited to read the winning entry of the Tim Winton Award for Young Writers Prize to the people gathered for the ceremony. It was a nerve-wracking, though extremely exciting, experience. I think it wasn’t the crowd that scared me. I was afraid, first of all, of getting Rachel Hao’s story The Piano Man ‘right’, especially since the author herself was watching me do it … but having Tim Winton sit right in front of the podium complicated things! I think I got a little awestruck and drifted away from the reading to a place where thoughts such as, ‘I should not have dyed my hair purple yesterday’ and ‘Please, Lord, don’t let me spit on Mr Cloudstreet when I have to annunciate my ‘ss’s’ frequented my anxious mind. It all turned out okay, though, and a few people said they thought I read really well, which was encouraging. Tim even gave me a wink and a pat on the back before he went out to get his picture taken with all the budding writers. Ms Harris gave me two bottles of wine, and it was then that I knew I had truly become a writer …

Joking, of course.

But I really must express my gratitude to Deb Hunn for phoning me up about the reading. It was such a great experience, and a wonderful opportunity (and we both enjoyed the free refreshments table very much …) I had a very nice chat with Mr Winton after all the kids had gone home. I tried to tell him that Dad played the role of Ted Pickles in a production of Cloudstreet at the Darwin Entertainment Centre in 2003, and that it had been my first exposure to his work. I tried to tell him I loved Cloudstreet, though I STILL had not read it … but, after humouring me for a while, he said, ‘Ahh … Cloudstreet … I’m bloody sick of that book!’ It was slightly humbling when he changed the topic by asking me what my ‘thing’ was – ‘young adult fiction, wasn’t it?’ ‘Erm … yes …’

I tried my best to explain my dissertation on uncanny verisimilitude to Mr Winton … but I was just too starstruck by the Miles Franklin Man Himself to tell you whether I was at all coherent. I shouldn’t have been acting like such a goose – Tim was so casual and friendly and I think he seemed more interested in the fact that I had grown up in Darwin, which was absolutely fine and wonderful and I’m going to stop rambling now because I’m really tired.

Erin ‘Werrrrrrrrblerrrrrrrrrrmmerblle’ Pearce