Thursday, June 11, 2009
Great night at the Motor Boat Club
On the 1st June, Writers in Townsville Society was privileged to host a Literary Dinner at the Townsville Motor Boat Club featuring authors Matthew Condon, Greg Rogers and Belinda Jeffries, who then headed out to the wild west the next day on the Q150 Writer's train. Belinda's debut novel Brown Skin Blue hit the book shops that day. Congratulations Belinda, it's a great read. You're a sensitive and discerning writer. I was very impressed with your use of simple language as befitted the character, yet the subtleties revealed a complex and powerful undercurrent running throughout the story. It would be very difficult not to empathize with Barry Mundy, he's done it tough and he's a survivor. The use of stream of consciousness in the river scene (no pun intended) packs a powerful punch and I must confess to shedding a few tears. Barry was a wonderful character and I hope that you do go on to write a second book featuring him.I feel sure you are definitely on a winner. Best wishes for your book launch Belinda.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Excerpt: A Hint of Darkness
A Hint of Darkness is a 150,000 word novel. The title alludes to the darkness of betrayal. Emmaline and Ellie are born in different centuries, yet linked by kinship and the bonds of sisterhood.
Blurb
Where there’s gold there are men, where there’s men there are brothels. Cooktown in its heyday is the gateway to the booming Palmer River goldfields. Emmaline’s life of affluence and privilege is gone. Pregnant with a mixed-race child she finds refuge with Maggie, a local madam. She can fall no lower on the social scale. Still Emmaline refuses to bow to the dictates of Victorian society; to be defined by the status thrust upon her. Ellie has her own demons to battle. A successful, intelligent and attractive young woman, she has been conditioned by her mother to think of herself as second rate. Her acerbic wit covers her insecurity. Entrusted with Emmaline’s journals, Ellie comes to realize that she isn’t bound to seek anyone’s approval, and that she has the power to free herself from the bondage of social image
Prologue
My throat aches with the effort of keeping silent. I want to scream out to Paddy and Timothy, to help me. They’re supposed to protect us. Where are they? Please don’t let them be dead. Please don’t leave me here alone.
I should run, and hide; flee into the bush, but my legs won't move. I am too afraid to move. That terrible scream echoes in my ears, and I huddle against the hot earth, hide my face in the folds of my dress and pray silently. “Dear God, please don’t let them find me.”
William Jennings Bryant wrote: ‘Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved.'
Emmaline
Chapter 1: Excerpt
Taken from the journals of Emmaline Gidley-King,
Cooktown, North Queensland, Australia.
Journal entry: 11th February 1879
Mama - will the ghost of her ever be laid to rest? Somehow I must free myself from the past, exorcise the demons. I don’t have any real expectation that the simple act of recording my memories, my thoughts of past and present, will assuage my soul. But perhaps it will act as a panacea, a salve for my wounds. If someday, someone should read these journals and know the truth, so be it.
Rain taps with gentle fingers on the iron roof, a respite from the deafening tattoo of the past hour. Through the open window sounds drift up from the street below. The Cobb and Co coach is newly arrived and guffaws of male laughter greet the travellers picking their way through the squelching quagmire of Charlotte Street.
I’ve found happiness in the strangest surroundings. That my haven is of dubious standing, my circumstances socially unacceptable, and my respite in all probability temporary is of little consequence. This is my reality and I accept it with utmost gratitude. My contentment seems totally apart from and yet stems from the same sources that have brought me to this point in my life. Fickle fate has softened her heart, taken pity on me, and though I’m a far cry from the grand existence I once knew, for the moment I am safe.
Chapter 3: Excerpt
Ellie
January 2008
The butterfly has emerged. I now have wings- can fly.
She was born more than a hundred years before me yet Emmaline has become my constant companion. The sense of her presence so strong that looking up from my writing late at night, I fancy I catch a glimpse of dark curls, a waft of floral perfume, the whisper of her laughter. I ache to find myself alone. How sad that the mother I so dearly wished for exists only between the pages of Emmaline's journals.
There is a parallel between Emmaline’s story and my own, our lives are intertwined. I have faithfully transcribed her diaries. I can do no less with my own.
Blurb
Where there’s gold there are men, where there’s men there are brothels. Cooktown in its heyday is the gateway to the booming Palmer River goldfields. Emmaline’s life of affluence and privilege is gone. Pregnant with a mixed-race child she finds refuge with Maggie, a local madam. She can fall no lower on the social scale. Still Emmaline refuses to bow to the dictates of Victorian society; to be defined by the status thrust upon her. Ellie has her own demons to battle. A successful, intelligent and attractive young woman, she has been conditioned by her mother to think of herself as second rate. Her acerbic wit covers her insecurity. Entrusted with Emmaline’s journals, Ellie comes to realize that she isn’t bound to seek anyone’s approval, and that she has the power to free herself from the bondage of social image
Prologue
My throat aches with the effort of keeping silent. I want to scream out to Paddy and Timothy, to help me. They’re supposed to protect us. Where are they? Please don’t let them be dead. Please don’t leave me here alone.
I should run, and hide; flee into the bush, but my legs won't move. I am too afraid to move. That terrible scream echoes in my ears, and I huddle against the hot earth, hide my face in the folds of my dress and pray silently. “Dear God, please don’t let them find me.”
William Jennings Bryant wrote: ‘Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved.'
Emmaline
Chapter 1: Excerpt
Taken from the journals of Emmaline Gidley-King,
Cooktown, North Queensland, Australia.
Journal entry: 11th February 1879
Mama - will the ghost of her ever be laid to rest? Somehow I must free myself from the past, exorcise the demons. I don’t have any real expectation that the simple act of recording my memories, my thoughts of past and present, will assuage my soul. But perhaps it will act as a panacea, a salve for my wounds. If someday, someone should read these journals and know the truth, so be it.
Rain taps with gentle fingers on the iron roof, a respite from the deafening tattoo of the past hour. Through the open window sounds drift up from the street below. The Cobb and Co coach is newly arrived and guffaws of male laughter greet the travellers picking their way through the squelching quagmire of Charlotte Street.
I’ve found happiness in the strangest surroundings. That my haven is of dubious standing, my circumstances socially unacceptable, and my respite in all probability temporary is of little consequence. This is my reality and I accept it with utmost gratitude. My contentment seems totally apart from and yet stems from the same sources that have brought me to this point in my life. Fickle fate has softened her heart, taken pity on me, and though I’m a far cry from the grand existence I once knew, for the moment I am safe.
Chapter 3: Excerpt
Ellie
January 2008
The butterfly has emerged. I now have wings- can fly.
She was born more than a hundred years before me yet Emmaline has become my constant companion. The sense of her presence so strong that looking up from my writing late at night, I fancy I catch a glimpse of dark curls, a waft of floral perfume, the whisper of her laughter. I ache to find myself alone. How sad that the mother I so dearly wished for exists only between the pages of Emmaline's journals.
There is a parallel between Emmaline’s story and my own, our lives are intertwined. I have faithfully transcribed her diaries. I can do no less with my own.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Excerpt from Miss Josephine of Cherry Tree Bay
An aura of expectancy hung over the open grave. Onlookers dressed in Sunday best, sweltered in the afternoon heat, watching the dark earth rain upon the coffin. They made no pretence of sorrow. In a gesture of courtesy the men stood, heads bowed, hats held to their hearts. The women eyed me covertly from beneath veiled hats, hopeful of some small snippet of gossip. I guessed the thoughts hidden behind the prying eyes. Surely in three years Josephine Langley must have let something slip to me, her young companion, perhaps towards the end; unburdened her conscience.
The mystery surrounding my elderly employer and friend had not palled over the years and those who remembered the beautiful, young, effervescent Josephine talked knowingly of ‘the tragedy’ at Cherry Tree Bay. Others whispered of betrayal and murder in that house of secrets.
I kept my back to the spectators, my jaw aching with the effort of holding back tears. No one offered condolences. I wasn’t family. I dropped a spray of frangipani blooms into the grave; pearly white upon the coffin, a travesty of life and death.
The mystery surrounding my elderly employer and friend had not palled over the years and those who remembered the beautiful, young, effervescent Josephine talked knowingly of ‘the tragedy’ at Cherry Tree Bay. Others whispered of betrayal and murder in that house of secrets.
I kept my back to the spectators, my jaw aching with the effort of holding back tears. No one offered condolences. I wasn’t family. I dropped a spray of frangipani blooms into the grave; pearly white upon the coffin, a travesty of life and death.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
