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Archive for the ‘WA Writers’ Category

Local writer/director Ben Young, has hit the heights with his debut feature nurtured by PAC Screen Workshops and our Perth film community.  Can’t wait to wallow in memories of 1980’s Perth and the glorious America’s Cup days again. Well done, Ben Young & Team!

Writer’s debut film to screen in Venicehttps://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/wa/a/32168684/writer-s-debut-film-to-screen-in-venice/#page1

 

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I’ve been nominated for the Awesome blogger award by The Fluff Is Raging.  Thank you Niall McArdle.  Though not sure why…

http://www.westernaustralia-travellersguide.com/perth-australia-beach.html

Perhaps because I live 10 mins North of Hillarys Boat Harbour.

http://www.westernaustralia.com/au/Things_to_See_and_Do/Sun_Surf_and_Sea_Life/Pages/Beaches.aspx

Although I don’t like sand or surfing but spend hours in coffee shops gazing over the ocean at Mullaloo

I suspect, it’s because (like Niall) film and particularly Australian Films like The Sapphires  The Dressmaker  or  Red Dog are a passion of mine.

The Rules:

#1. Copy and paste the image with the rules.

#2. Share one thing that you thing that makes you truly awesome.

#3. Nominate other bloggers for the award. 

Perth Daily Photo

SOCIAL BRIDGE ~ Jean Tubridy connecting with you from Ireland

 

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jimmy mcgovern

 

https://cinemaaustralia.com.au/

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Southword Journal

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Dambuster NZ

 

Premier Online Movie Magazine

 

 

 

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‘Water over Stone’ by Laura Jan Shore published by Interactive Press, Brisbane in 2011.

I have so many books, it’s time again to clear space for my new ones.  If I buy new shelves, it won’t solve the problem – I have a very small home. So.

Faced with such a hard job and before I give my copy to someone else to enjoy, just as my poetic friend and colleague Glen Phillips gave me this one, I hope to convince you to buy your own copy.

Opening stanza includes my favourite tree;  a Jacaranda:Leaning up against this gnarled tree,/bark shredded/and dangling like loose skin,/’ .

After 44 life-exposing pieces, I found the last poem didn’t seem to fit with the journey, but seemed to be included to placate someone else…

Personally, the book ended nicely for me just before the last with my favourite car, although not a car in this last stanza of  ‘Jaguar’:  ‘ …and the laws of balance snap/the tender neck/of my desolate/youth.’

But it’s all about the page 44 for me and the stand-out poem by Laura Jan Shore from ‘Water over Stone’.

Embracing The Wind

Whipped to a froth, surf

suds the shore.  

Wings churn as the crown, blown back,

surrenders and shifts course.

 

The echo of your words clatter

with dry leaves against stone.

The gum tree groans.  Parrots cuddle

three pairs in the banksia.

 

Air tangles my hair, clutches at

my clothes and like your strong hands

curved around my waist, shoves me

towards the rocky point.

 

Unresisting, I rush headlong

into swirls of sand

chafing my ankles like the harsh

intimacies of our long marriage,

grit between my teeth. 

 

Eyelids at half-mast, arms akimbo

my tousled thoughts

rinse clear.

 

This spring quickening

all biff and bluster

unfurls my ragged nerves.

 

None of the houses we’ve built

can shelter us from these gusts,

so unlatch the door and join me

in this great whoosh – 

 

see how the crow glides now,

wings outstretched

sustained by the wind?

 

Laura Jan Shore © 2011

(Laura’s latest books are available from Dangerously Poetic Press.)

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POET:GlenPhillips  #POET:LauraJanShore  #BOOK:WaterOverStone  #POEM:EmbracingTheWind   #Poetry  #GuestPoet  #MyBookshelf  #ShelfPoems

 

 

 

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Burns Beach – Frances Macaulay Forde © 2013

Some may know I was the resident poet at a local cafe for 6 months as part of a program with Poetry Australia during 2013.  Going through my notes of meetings, I thought I’d share these.  I presume the married owners were in dispute about who was the boss:

30th May 2013:  THE POETRY READING.

After rushing around Joondalup frantically trying to source a small amp to use at the reading and $167 later, I was 10 minutes late for set-up with the advertised event due to happen in 20 minutes.  It was pouring and I looked like a drowned rat.  The hubbub in the cafe was loud because every customer was squashed into a small space with the heater turned up high.

As I lugged the amp and my bag of books etc in, I rushed to my usually reserved table to find it occupied.  “Good Morning, are you ladies here for the poetry?”

Frowns; “No.”

“Oh, OK, sorry – it’s just that’s usually my table but I see they’ve reserved this one for me.” and smiled.

I bend to my task of plugging in the amp and about to test the microphones (one for me and one for my guest poet, Rashida Murphy) when a sour faced woman approached (looking quite similar to one of the ladies at the 1st table).

“I am the owner and I don’t want my customers disturbed.”

“Sorry?”

“You can’t use that – I don’t want my customers disturbed.” pointing to the amp with a nasty smell under her nose.

“So you don’t want me to do the reading?  It’s been advertised for three weeks and this was all arranged…”

“I don’t want my customers disturbed.”

“OK, but a media statement went out and the newspapers mentioned they may attend.  I have no idea what they look like so if anyone asks would you mind apologising?”  I’m not really good at sarcasm.

I think that did it – and she walked away.

The atmosphere had changed and you could have cut it with a knife.  I’d never seen that ‘owner’ before and the wait staff who usually looked after me so well, were obviously feeling bad.  They knew how much time and effort I had put into the event, not to mention the advertising with brochures and posters.

The whole experience was to offer customers a chance to share their words as well – many had expressed real interest and said they secretly wrote poems.  I wanted to hear some, so was very disappointed.

I packed up the amplifier and made some frantic phone calls to say it was cancelled.  Thank goodness the international poet I had invited had been unavailable; I would have been mortified to have her arrive with my friend, the Professor of Language and Literature at Edith Cowan University – and both unable to read!

So, with my face bright red, I took a deep breath, did my usual and placed a poetry postcard on each table inside and out, smiled and chatted when customers expressed interest.

One chap outside greeted me with “Hello, Poetry Lady” and a big grin.   He said he’d been looking at my face for three weeks and seemed quite happy about it – not ‘disturbed’ at all!

I couldn’t get hold of Rashida in time, but she was good about the cancellation and we thoroughly enjoyed catching up and reading poems we’d worked on since our last chat.

7th June 2013 Update:

Yesterday although I was at Burns Beach Cafe, I was outside, distracted by photographing the waves crashing, so walked in a couple of minutes late. There stood the manager,  Lynda waiting to let me know there were two ladies waiting to see me – locals Maureen and Ginny.

They said they’d just completed a 6 – week poetry course at a near-by writers group and had heard about me from Maureen’s hairdresser who picked up one of my poetry postcards from the cafe. 

20 minutes into our poetic chat Maureen remarked ‘how much (she) had learned from me – already!’ We’d shared our work, critiqued a poem or two and did a short exercise which we promised to write and bring back to critique next week. 

Our session ended just short of two hours because they were off to attend a prose class. They’ve promised to come back next week and every week they can…

And they did, for the rest of my residence!  We even met each month for 6 months afterwards at Ginny’s house to talk about her book and Maureen’s play.

#FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BurnsBeachCafe

 

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…you’re not really.

There are millions, just like you who either don’t acknowledge this day as anything to do with ‘love’ or find themselves alone either by choice or by circumstance.

So no – you’re not alone.

And if you feel you need a greeting – say ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ to yourself.

Take all those images, sayings and special touches applied to this day – turn them around to face you.

Take yourself out and do something that makes you feel wonderful – because you must be.

We are all worthy of a celebration every day of the year – not just today.

I’ve seen all of these movies and couldn’t resist sharing these quotes because I know, if you want love it will find you… eventually – if you let it.

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Committed Skin

I crave committed

skin.  Pale, pink tones

of a fragile heart.

Silky strands tantalize.

 

Forest of words

– thoughts, forcing

forward movement

careful continuation of

 

soft, subtle actions.

Reassurances

given, refusing

to provide any more until…

 

absolutely sure,

when our surfaces

eventually meet

– rub together in love-making,

 

no other skin will suit.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

1st pub: ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ MMB Publishing, Ireland, 2003.

 

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #HappyValentinesDay  #ToTheLonely  #IfYou’reAlone #POEM:CommittedSkin  #CommittedSkin

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Anna Jacobs, a lady I’ve proudly called a friend since the 80’s, has had phenomenal success in the UK. She’s just been voted the 10th most borrowed author in the British Library  of Adult and Children’s Fiction but the 5th most borrowed author of Adult Fiction.

Mind you, Anna’s worked extremely hard for it!

We met weekly as members of the FAWWA (Fellowship of Australian Writers, Western Australia) Romance Writers Group in the 80’s.  Anna had novels all ready in her drawer waiting and while generously sharing her expertise and enthusiasm, signed a contract for three books with a major publisher.  I remember how thrilled we all were – how we celebrated, swelling with pride.

Janet Woods was the next member of our group to achieve mainstream publication and again, we were all so proud.  Unfortunately, I fell by the wayside; divorce soured my feeling for romance and I steered well clear of it for the next few years.  Even in Romance Writing only the strongest and most talented survive…

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Romance Writers Conference in Perth, 2000. Photo © Anna Jacobs. (I’m 6th from right.)

Georgette Heyer was a favourite writer growing up in hot, equatorial Africa.  Anna’s richly detailed Historical research and cleverly relatable characters, reminded me of those books I’d read and enjoyed so much, as a teenager.

And yes, I admit, I also used to read Barbara Cartland who was famously accused of plagiarism by Georgette Heyer in the 1950’s.

Of Barbara Cartland‘s 700+ books, I know I read a lot.  The recommendation is; “If you want to write Romance, you need to read at least 400 Romance Novels!”  Although, she was Princess Diana’s  step-grandmother, I believe in quality over quantity writing.

Georgette Heyer as the better writer of the two but my very favourite (and my sister-in-law Mum’s favourite) Romance writer is my friend Anna Jacobs who (so far) has 77 thoroughly researched and carefully plotted books under various names and genres.

When I heard Anna had won the top Australian Romance Writers ‘Ruby Award’ for ‘The Pride of Lancashire’, I had to send her some ruby flowers and lots of congratulations.  Her hubby kindly took a photo for me…

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© 2006 Anna Jacobs ‘Ruby Award’

So if you aspire to write Romance, may I recommend you get hold of a copy of Anna Jacobs’  ‘An Introduction to Romance Writing’ and follow all directions.  If you then buy and study ‘Plotting & Editing’,  you’ll have learnt from a Mistress of Storytelling – and have one or two complete, well-edited manuscripts ready to send out.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #AnnaJacobs  #No5BritishLibrary  #No10MostBorrowed  #RomanceWriter  #2006RubyAward  #JanetWoods  #IntroRomanceWriting  #PrideOfLancashire  #GeorgetteHeyer  #BarbaraCartland  #WAWriters  #WestAustRomance  #RomanceWritersOfAustralia

 

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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joondalup_railway_line#/media/File:Mitchell_Freeway_100_N_Stirling_Civic_with_train.jpg

Mitchell Freeway photo courtesy of Wikipedia.

The train I catch to the city rides on a railway line between the North and South lanes of the Mitchell Freeway.  I loved gazing at the cars streaming on their way to or from work.  Comfortable in the air-conditioned, clean and very fast, with someone-else-driving carriage, I filled my notebooks as other commuters wondered what I was saying about them.

Short stories and poems written on my train journeys between Edgewater Station and Perth City, appeared in my book  Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey  and later  separately, in my Rail Tales chapbook. (Both books are sold out.)

Trips into Town.

However, there is a game I play on my way to work. Wearing my HBF corporate uniform, another day of routine smiles and customer queries beckons.

When the no-name monotony gets too much, I shrug off that persona and step into my imagination.

On the most normal and usual of journeys to and from work, strange things happen because I wear the seahorse broach my son gave me for my birthday. It seems that when I touch it, caress it, the cold metal seems to warm.

I can actually feel his love, the time he took to find exactly the right broach, the money he saved and his joy when I opened the wrapping, laughing and smiling with obvious delight.

A different me seemed to take over: moveable me, a nebulous entity able to drift like an invisible tide on air thick with wanting. I could change my life – become someone else by feeling envy or wishing for what others seemed to have…

Though the first time it happened, I was terrified.

Work at the Bank held no attraction that day.  In fact, I had finished up the previous day out of balance, fully expecting my pretentious I-play-the-game supervisor to take me to task.  Not a workday to look forward to.

So with the announcement “Next station Perth”, I was focusing my energies on someone who seems to have it all.

As we squealed into the Leederville Tunnel, the lights flickered then dimmed. I don’t know why but in that fraction of black, a thrill of anticipation ran through me.

The last person I concentrated on wore a lot of good jewellery, expensive clothes, bag and shoes.  She was attractive, with immaculate nails.  When the lights burned fully again, I was wearing the expensive clothes, lots of jewellery and immaculate nails. I had shed myself, metamorphosed into this perfect being.

What next?

Unlimited credit cards, meeting a friend for lunch on The Terrace, more shopping – check out the bank account and then, pop into the Italian jewellery for a new bracelet. I would of course decline dinner at the Hyatt because I have to get back to feed my cat.

Do I still have a cat?  Who’ll feed Soxies?

This dream couldn’t last and I had to try to return to my own skin but first, I had to find myself.  A creature of habit, I make sure I get the same train every night, waiting in the usual place on Platform 2 with sore feet and tired stance.

Just managing to board before the doors swished shut, I gratefully sat down. As the carriage pulled away from the station, I placed ‘her’ handbag between my feet.

We swayed to the left and the lights flickered then dimmed. There’s the fraction of black again and I concentrated, staring at ‘myself’ two seats away, firmly clutching Angela’s purchases.

It couldn’t really happen. My family would wonder how I managed to acquire such gorgeous clothes and new jewellery on my wage. They’d think I had a secret admirer and why weren’t they told?

They don’t know about the games I play to relieve the boredom. 

It’s all in my head of course…

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2001

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:HiddenCapacity  #BOOK:RailTales  #Prose&Poetry  #Poetry  #ShortStories  #FrancesMacaulayForde  #TrainStories  #RidingTheRails  #TrainWriting  #TrainStories

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