Just got through the weekend; three open access sessions on Saturday for the Regional Rights project in which I make myself available for hour long personal consultations with budding writers. Then on Sunday, a full day writers' workshop on the nuts and bolts of creative writing and another four open access sessions on Monday. In the meantime I've been writing a report for the mentorship winner which involves a close read of his manuscript plus editorial notes, and also reading this monumental, vast family saga 350,000 words, written by one of the short listees -- an amazing thing that left me gasping by the end of it, an emotional rollercoaster.
But prior to that was a full week working with our Iranian mate Mohsen on his manuscript of collected poetry which is a delight and pleasure, if a little emotionally gruelling.
The work is collected from material he wrote when incarcerated in Villawood a four years. Dark as.
Somewhere in there I had to find time to practice cello, do the regular householdy things, and work on my book. Consequently I haven't had a lot of time to be reading through your blogs or writing mine. Not to mention the garden, which has fallen into ruin this season.
I figured it was time to let it go to weed anyway and give the beds a rest. Besides, there's been so little rain the past few months that I'd have drained the tank trying to water and keep it alive. We've just had the first decent rain of the season and can finally put in green manure crops to get a little bit more organic material into the soil.
And the pace it doesn't look like it will slacken off until mid-December.