Hi, it’s that time of year again, and I don’t mean Christmas. It’s … ‘bout-time-I-blogged-again-time’, just in case my death’s exaggerated. So, lots happened this year. Took a little while (a year!) to adjust to single life again – probably the most profound ‘happening’ of all. The biggest take-away is we talk like old friends, and work things through, just like we always did. I guess separation ain’t like tooth extraction. Three decades of marriage, as it turns out, leaves a warm glow of love and respect rather than a constantly aching jaw and bitter aftertaste. Also, peace – a little empty at times, but far less volatile when one’s a naked flame and the other holds a tin of petrol. Nowadays, one lets off steam in the three-sheep-trial ring, and the other works (semi-works) outback for the two best bosses in Qld.
Meantime, I’m almost done except for a solid edit for part one ‘Of Hobbled Horses and Cicatrices’, a memoir trilogy, the singular most creative fun I’ve had to date. Why wouldn’t it be? The author runs sentences together, makes up words, says ‘chimbley’ and ‘cumftabul’ and writes what many don’t. He does not hold back when he takes a dump or dreams of salting the boss into biltong.
‘Last Train to Menindee’ still waits at the siding, and waits and waits. But… ‘A Funny Thing (about Old Man Drought) an essay’ is current finalist for Eyelands Book Awards (chapbook), so fingers crossed. And, ATM, I’m stage one in the creation of a new, you-beaut Aussie board game. Won’t give much away yet, big brother’s watching, (AI) but watch this space for stage two. Best wishes for the new year,
Steve.
Steve Hawe 