Geocache Challenge
12 May, 2011

It’s not my fault. It all started with a friend… have we had “Sophie” as an alias yet? Sophie forwarded me an email with pix of hilarious “missing dog” type flyers that random idiots with too much time on their hands have posted out and about.

This one struck a personal chord:

But I think this was probably the LOLest:

Anyway, I drank too much coffee and during a full and frank exchange of emails Sophie dared me to post one of my own. So I did, and I’m not sure how long it survived on the corner of The Esplanade and First Avenue at Maroochydore.

I think, if you read the title, you can guess the next bit. Anyone feeling silly and time-rich – in the spirit of performance art, slam poetry and public nuisance – post a flyer and upload your pix, please. We could all use a laugh.


Joint Effort
22 December, 2009

Crystal slammed her netbook shut and flung it on the bed. ‘Now he’s defriended me on Facebook!’ she whined into her mobile.

‘Chill, babe.’ Rachael advised, ‘He’s just, like, being a guy. What are you gonna do?’ Rach sounded distracted, because she was – she was working a double shift as Santa’s Little Helper and wasn’t supposed to tuck a Blutooth earpiece under her jaunty striped cap. ‘Now hop up on Santa’s lap… no, don’t cry! I know he’s a bit stinky but he’s not scary…’

Crystal paced her room, kicking discarded outfits around until laundry flew,  like snowflakes would had it been Christmas in the Northern hemisphere. Since she lived in Brissie, the scanties clung stickily to humid surfaces.

‘Sorry, Crys. Locked and loaded. You’re far too fabulous to waste the summer holidays worrying about why some jerk is being a jerk. It’s Dave’s party tonight, focus on that. Oh fuck, that whining kiddy just hurled. There’s chunks all over freaking Rudolph. Gotta scoot.’

Crystal’s phone followed the netbook onto the doona, but her bestie had given her an idea…

Champagne Slurpies
11 December, 2009

Come in, make yourself comfy. Kick off your shoes and let you hair down – or put it up if you prefer. There’s a refreshing seabreeze rustling the teatrees outside. I’ll just put Ry Cooder’s ‘Mambo Sinuendo’ on the CD, unless Quokka wants to loan me Hildy.

Faff all you like – I’ll just duck into the kitchen and mix up the champagne slurpies. Anyone for tapas?

Can’t stop
26 November, 2009

I’ve never come within a few thousand words of completing a book-length manuscript before, so this is a new one on me. I don’t want to finish!

I know what will happen, I’m excited to take the characters there, I’m getting up at 3:30 every morning and doing my 2,000 words – but I don’t want the fun to end.

Maybe because after “The End” comes the revision – or as Dr Kim Wilkins described it in a recent edition of WQ, “the puppy autopsy” ?

Help me, finishers… is this common – and is there a known cure?

Hey web!
23 November, 2009

I’m Madam Morgana – writer, mother, cook, gardener, extreme sportswoman, deep undercover with a major international counter espionage organization.

One or more of the above may be a blatant lie.

I could tell you, but then… hell, you know the rest.