A Brush With The Patriarchy: how to convert a travel diary into a personal essay

Listen while you read. This is the diary and personal essay of a woman’s personal journey of self-discovery and self-revelation in nature that leads her from the brink of domestic abuse and back to the safe harbour of liberated literatist. Grab a cup of coffee as this is very long. The essay follows after the more

Let’s talk about feminism (the U.S. President and the environment):

Award-winning author Barbara Kingsolver And Helen Garner discusses what it’s like to be a woman who is ageing. Isn’t it tragic that so many women have been and will continue to be, the victims of circumstance? They stand in the shadow of the men who supposedly love them. In the words of Virginia Woolf in more

The Isthmus & mixed messages :)

The song of the crickets rings out when the path dips down, after the isthmus and before the southern end of the lake, and if you look up you’ll see a flock of birds overhead flying in V formation and if you look across you’ll see the baby lake birds fully grown now and with more

Personal Essay for Uni – Can literature have an affect on and change lives?

I thought I’d share with you a Personal Essay I wrote for Uni. The prompt for this essay was “Can literature have an affect on and change lives?” Personal essays are written by writers who want to argue a point but also want to give insight into their own experience of what has brought them more

A quandary, a quandary:

Hermits would rather write, Far into the night, And watch their words take flight. And pickled men will lose the fight, When they see that she won’t bite, She wants their sex, But that’s not right! Unless she slaves for them in the daylight, Dragging up their brats, With all of her might, So stick more

A WRITER’S DAY Journal entry; 30th October ’08

I found this journal entry yesterday, it was the last one I wrote right before I began to write my first book that was published, Oracle In The Mist: I write my morning pages (Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way) and then . . . I stare at the blank page and wait for the words more