Guest: Isabelle Rowan Guest Post.
My guest today is Isabelle Rowan, with a very thought-provoking and touching post. Please welcome Izzy!
*~*~*~*
When L. J. LaBarthe originally spoke to me about writing something for an Australian anthology, I was both excited and daunted. I loved the idea of seeing Oz highlighted in a genre that is usually set elsewhere, but it made me do some real thinking about how to represent our country.
I asked a lot of my overseas friends and relatives what popped into their head when I said the word Australia - most came up with kangaroos, koalas, poisonous snakes, and the bronzed bodies of Bondi lifesavers. Yes we have all of those, but when I asked the same question to my class at school, the answers were very different. They struck a real chord with me so I decided to use them, and other questions I asked as the base of this blog. I hope you enjoy the results.
Q: What is the first thing that pops into your head when you hear the word Australia?
Izzy: Home.
Student answers: New home. Education. Peace.
Q: Why did you or your parents come to Australia?
Izzy: We arrived here in 1964, a month before my fourth birthday. My dad was a policeman in the North East of England and, after a bad winter, he suggested we take up the offer to help populate a country on the other side of the world. We became ten quid tourists and got on a ship to Australia.
Student answers included: We came here because there is war in my country.
My parents wanted us to be safe and for me to go to school.
I grew up in a refugee camp and didn’t know anything else.
I don’t want to talk about it.
There were a lot more questions and a lot more answers. All but two of my students came to Australia to escape conflict in their old countries and hopefully find a better life. Even my parents were searching for a new life. Not everyone finds that in Australia, but it’s a country that allows us to look.
That’s where the idea for my story started.
I’m much more comfortable writing about the streets and suburbs of Melbourne, but wanted my character to travel further and make his journey a little harder. So Daniel was sent on a pilgrimage to the red centre - The Red Heart. He was a man searching for meaning in a place where, as fellow tweeter Merrian described, “… people go to lose themselves; tiny towns with people who don’t fit.” And that brings in Sam; an ex-soldier who’d served and survived a foreign conflict, but still carried the war with him.
One man searching; the other hiding, but together they journey to the red centre of Australia.
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3631&cPath=55_136
Also available in the Under the Southern Cross anthology
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3622&cPath=55_136
Excerpt:
Daniel watched Sam jog to where the station owner greeted him with a smile and a handshake. They stood just out of hearing range, talking and pointing around the yard, obviously working out logistics and projects. Finally a deal was struck with a slap on Sam’s back and the two men walked to a big shed at the rear of the house. A wave of nausea made Daniel’s stomach clench as soon as he was left alone. Now what? Do I just stay here and wait? He glanced in the direction of the car. Or see if I should get out of here before….
“Hey, Morticia. You lookin’ for something to do?”
Two men stood near the veranda steps. They couldn’t have been more than a few years older than he was, maybe Sam’s age, but their sun-weathered faces told of a life far removed from his own. They were more the stockmen of Banjo Patterson tales who’d chase brumbies and take death-defying rides down mountain sides. These were men who would look like fish out of water in Melbourne, just as Daniel felt at that moment.
“Morticia?” he queried and saw them laugh.
“No offense, mate, but we don’t get many travellers that look like you in these parts.”
“I guess not,” Daniel said, accepting the good-natured explanation.
“So what’s the story with all…,” the taller of the two men started to say but finished with a wave of his hand.
Daniel glanced down at his bare arms, completely covered with brightly colour ink, his fingers adorned with silver skull rings and tipped with chipped black nail polish. He looked up at the men and said with all the confidence he could muster, “It’s who I am and what I do.” Daniel walked down the veranda steps and squinted in the glare of the morning sun.
“Fair enough, but shit, mate, you look like a vampire and you’re gonna fry out here. Come on and we’ll get you sorted. I’m Jack, by the way, and this loser is Macca.”
Within minutes, Daniel had a well-worn Akubra shoved on his head and a plaid shirt hanging open over his T-shirt. He knew he must look like something out of a western zombie movie, but appreciated the generosity, and acceptance, of the men.
“Better,” Macca said. “Now you won’t scare the stock. Have you ever worked with cattle before?”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I have?”
“Good point. So why are you out here with soldier boy? Are you two… ah, together?”
Jack elbowed his friend. “None of our business, mate.”
Macca nodded and tugged at the rim of his hat. “Forget I asked. What you two get up to when the lights are out is none of our business.”
“Shit, Macca, get out and mix up the drench,” Jack ordered. “We’ll get the crush ready.”
“What was that all about?” Daniel asked.
“Ignore him,” Jack said. “It really is none of our business, but Sam’s a good bloke and done it tough before he got here.”
“Yeah,” Daniel replied quietly, pretending that he knew as much about his travelling companion as they seemed to. But it did raise more questions. Sam was ex-military, he’d done it tough, and the stockmen thought they were together….
*~*~*~*
When L. J. LaBarthe originally spoke to me about writing something for an Australian anthology, I was both excited and daunted. I loved the idea of seeing Oz highlighted in a genre that is usually set elsewhere, but it made me do some real thinking about how to represent our country.
I asked a lot of my overseas friends and relatives what popped into their head when I said the word Australia - most came up with kangaroos, koalas, poisonous snakes, and the bronzed bodies of Bondi lifesavers. Yes we have all of those, but when I asked the same question to my class at school, the answers were very different. They struck a real chord with me so I decided to use them, and other questions I asked as the base of this blog. I hope you enjoy the results.
Q: What is the first thing that pops into your head when you hear the word Australia?
Izzy: Home.
Student answers: New home. Education. Peace.
Q: Why did you or your parents come to Australia?
Izzy: We arrived here in 1964, a month before my fourth birthday. My dad was a policeman in the North East of England and, after a bad winter, he suggested we take up the offer to help populate a country on the other side of the world. We became ten quid tourists and got on a ship to Australia.
Student answers included: We came here because there is war in my country.
My parents wanted us to be safe and for me to go to school.
I grew up in a refugee camp and didn’t know anything else.
I don’t want to talk about it.
There were a lot more questions and a lot more answers. All but two of my students came to Australia to escape conflict in their old countries and hopefully find a better life. Even my parents were searching for a new life. Not everyone finds that in Australia, but it’s a country that allows us to look.
That’s where the idea for my story started.
I’m much more comfortable writing about the streets and suburbs of Melbourne, but wanted my character to travel further and make his journey a little harder. So Daniel was sent on a pilgrimage to the red centre - The Red Heart. He was a man searching for meaning in a place where, as fellow tweeter Merrian described, “… people go to lose themselves; tiny towns with people who don’t fit.” And that brings in Sam; an ex-soldier who’d served and survived a foreign conflict, but still carried the war with him.
One man searching; the other hiding, but together they journey to the red centre of Australia.
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3631&cPath=55_136
Also available in the Under the Southern Cross anthology
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3622&cPath=55_136
Excerpt:
Daniel watched Sam jog to where the station owner greeted him with a smile and a handshake. They stood just out of hearing range, talking and pointing around the yard, obviously working out logistics and projects. Finally a deal was struck with a slap on Sam’s back and the two men walked to a big shed at the rear of the house. A wave of nausea made Daniel’s stomach clench as soon as he was left alone. Now what? Do I just stay here and wait? He glanced in the direction of the car. Or see if I should get out of here before….
“Hey, Morticia. You lookin’ for something to do?”
Two men stood near the veranda steps. They couldn’t have been more than a few years older than he was, maybe Sam’s age, but their sun-weathered faces told of a life far removed from his own. They were more the stockmen of Banjo Patterson tales who’d chase brumbies and take death-defying rides down mountain sides. These were men who would look like fish out of water in Melbourne, just as Daniel felt at that moment.
“Morticia?” he queried and saw them laugh.
“No offense, mate, but we don’t get many travellers that look like you in these parts.”
“I guess not,” Daniel said, accepting the good-natured explanation.
“So what’s the story with all…,” the taller of the two men started to say but finished with a wave of his hand.
Daniel glanced down at his bare arms, completely covered with brightly colour ink, his fingers adorned with silver skull rings and tipped with chipped black nail polish. He looked up at the men and said with all the confidence he could muster, “It’s who I am and what I do.” Daniel walked down the veranda steps and squinted in the glare of the morning sun.
“Fair enough, but shit, mate, you look like a vampire and you’re gonna fry out here. Come on and we’ll get you sorted. I’m Jack, by the way, and this loser is Macca.”
Within minutes, Daniel had a well-worn Akubra shoved on his head and a plaid shirt hanging open over his T-shirt. He knew he must look like something out of a western zombie movie, but appreciated the generosity, and acceptance, of the men.
“Better,” Macca said. “Now you won’t scare the stock. Have you ever worked with cattle before?”
Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I have?”
“Good point. So why are you out here with soldier boy? Are you two… ah, together?”
Jack elbowed his friend. “None of our business, mate.”
Macca nodded and tugged at the rim of his hat. “Forget I asked. What you two get up to when the lights are out is none of our business.”
“Shit, Macca, get out and mix up the drench,” Jack ordered. “We’ll get the crush ready.”
“What was that all about?” Daniel asked.
“Ignore him,” Jack said. “It really is none of our business, but Sam’s a good bloke and done it tough before he got here.”
“Yeah,” Daniel replied quietly, pretending that he knew as much about his travelling companion as they seemed to. But it did raise more questions. Sam was ex-military, he’d done it tough, and the stockmen thought they were together….