Be generous, dammit!

As some of my friends know, in a previous life I was a registered nurse, working on Wade Ward, the adolescent unit at the Children's Hospital, Westmead. I met a lot of wonderful people there, but the ones who really stuck in my memory were the young people with cystic fibrosis. CF is an absolute arse of a disease. There is no cure... yet. Research continues, but it's expensive. The only relief available to a person with CF is a transplant, sometimes lungs, sometimes heart and lungs. My friend Kylie Polglase had one of these. It almost killed her. But now she's taking part in the 7km CF Walkathon, on October 24, in memory of her dear friend Lisa Buckley, who passed away from CF not that long ago. So far her team has raised over $3,000, but they could always do with more. It's very easy to donate - just go to the link, and select Kylie's name from the team list, and do it. Donate! Go on! You'll feel good! Kylie's walking 7km, damn it, and last time I saw her she needed a mobility scooter to get the length of the corridor! Seriously! So get in there, folks!

Here's the link again, just in case you missed it last time.

Random ruminations on being an unknown

I was recently asked by Lateral Learning Speakers Agency to present a masterclass for the Sydney Morning Herald Young Writer of the Year Award finalists, and as part of that experience was invited, with the finalists, to tour the archives of the Mitchell Library with the Exhibition Curator, Paul Brunton. The special highights Paul selected included a lock of James Cook's hair in a casket that Cook's crew hand-carved from the timber of Resolution; the hand-written manuscripts for Thomas Keneally's Schindler's Ark and Kate Grenville's The Secret River, and, most significantly for me, the hat, pen and death mask of one of my literary heroes, Henry Lawson. They also had the copy edit of his short story collection While the Billy Boils, complete with his red editing marks.

But that's not really what I sat down to write about here. No, my major rumination has to do with a thought I had the following day, when I sat down for the lunch in the Dixson Room of the State Library of NSW. The man sitting beside me, who works for Fairfax, introduced himself, and I told him my name. 'What do you do?' he asked, and I told him that I'm a writer. 'I'm very sorry, but I'm not familiar with your work,' he replied.

We writers get that a lot. We don't feel hurt - it's just how it is. But at the same time, it's easy to wonder how far one is from being a 'known', rather than an 'unknown'. And to feel a bit despondent.

But then I spun it. I thought, if I'd been seated next to someone I knew, and who knew me, that would offer me very little in terms of improving profile, forming connections, networking, whatever you want to call it. And to be completely mercenary, that's why we go to these things, right? But here I was next to someone who didn't know me or my work (I wasn't familiar with his either, by the way) and I was suddenly in a position to create a new and possibly very useful connection. And from a networking point of view, isn't it more useful to shake hands with a stranger, have a long conversation and exchange cards at the end than yack about the same old stuff with someone we've known for years?

(Photo by Sara Fishwick)

Tim Burton

If you happen to find yourself in Melbourne before the 10th October this year, you must, must, must go and see the Tim Burton exhibition at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image, at Federation Square, Melbourne. Even if Burton's particular brand of kook and creep isn't your thing, it's worth it to see someone's creative journey so clearly plotted out, especially from his very earliest motivation - escaping the boredom and banality of Burbank, California in the 1960s and '70s. Personally, I think that idea is best summed up in the scene where the cars all reverse out of the driveways at the same time, drive off, then return the same way at the end of the day. And of course there is this vision of suburban malaise...

But what struck me most strongly - and I tell my creative writing students this all the time now - was how normal his writing was when he was in middle school. The exhibition contains a number of his creative writing pieces, and while they're not bad, they're no better or worse than the average piece of creative writing I see from regular, everyday middle-school kids. I see this as encouraging evidence that while success as an artist must owe something to natural ability, it probably owes just as much to identifying an area of interest and persisting at it. Clearly Tim Burton has talent in bucketloads, but I'd also argue that a clear vision and a strong drive for success played a pretty major part as well.

Bogan hospitality

This is where I come on all small-l bleeding-heart liberal lefty, but I can't help it - I have to say something. Last week on The Chaser's "Yes we Canberra", the boys came out to the federal seat of Lindsay, which is next door to the one I live in, and vox-popped some of the Penrith locals, asking whether something should be done to "stop the boats", a phrase which fills me with embarrassment and shame every time Tony Abbott or one of his colleagues uses it. Or the PM, for that matter. And predictably enough, for no other reason than what took place in the editing suite, every single punter they spoke to (each of which was more boganny than the bogannest bogan you've ever encountered) responded exactly as you'd expect: "Yep, we should stop the boats, we don't need any more boat-people, I'll vote for anyone who can stop the effin' boats."

OK, so these punters might have been edited into prominence, but it's also true that they're out there, in most corners of Australian society. Which is why it struck me like a ton of felafel when I was sitting in the Penrith Westfield food court today, and this is what I saw, left to right: Thai, Italian, Japanese, American, Anglo, Mexican, Chinese, Vietnamese, more American, traditional Aussie roast, Lebanese and Turkish, Indian. And a bit more American. And if I was in any of a number of other suburban food courts, I might have even found some African. (What I haven't yet seen in any food court is bush tucker, but maybe one day soon that will come.)

But here's my point: is that what the average Australian wants, for all prospective immigrants of all flavours to come here, leave their family recipe books, then bugger off back "home"? "I don't want any of that foreign muck - I'll just grab a pizza or a doner kebab on the way home from the pub?" Really? If so, say goodbye to me right now, because I'm off to live in Nauru...

The most boring "debate" EVAH!

Gawd, I've worn pants with more personality than these two.

Of course, I'm talking about last Sunday night's Leaders' Debate. Or should I say, the "Leaders" "Debate".

This was nothing more than a glorified press conference. Pre-boxing bout weigh-ins have more of a free exchange of ideas.

Solution, maybe for next time: Tony Jones on the Q&A set with Leader A and Leader B at the desk, and 150 interested and articulate audience members who are able to actually ask questions. You know, tough, non-flagged questions. Questions that make the leaders think, and present answers that can be cross-examined. That I would watch. But what we actually got the other night was absurd, and utterly, utterly pointless. Vote 1 for the Worm!

Ostrich "scientists"

Ruben Meerman, a.k.a. The Surfing Scientist, and I were discussing climate change and global warming in the green room at a recent festival. This topic of conversation was kicked off in reference to a fellow presenter, who likes to get up in front of school kids and suggest to them that climate change is a big fat conspiracy.

Ruben put it in these terms: Imagine you go to see a renal surgeon, who examines you, and your scans, and your blood tests, and says, "You have a large renal tumour. It needs to come out as soon as possible." You go for a second opinion from another renal surgeon. He says the same thing - "You have a tumour, and it MUST come out." You see a third, fourth, fifth, twentieth renal surgeon - in fact you go and see 10,000 renal surgeons, and they all tell you the same thing. But then you go and see an ear, nose tha throat surgeon, and he says, "It's all a renal conspiracy - there's actually nothing wrong with your kidney."

Who are you going to believe?

The Proust Questionnaire

What is your most marked characteristic?
Thoughtful. Not in the "thinking of others" way, although I think I often am that, but in the "thinks about stuff a lot" way.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Trustworthy.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Confidence.
What do you most value in your friends?
Generosity.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Envy and resentment. OK, that's two, but the're linked.

What is your favorite occupation?
Being with friends.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Sunday morning + window seat + sunshine + guitar.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Not being able to help your child feel better.

In which country would you like to live?
France looks nice, and I'd like to spend at least a year in New York. But if you can't find somewhere in Australia that suits you, you're pretty hard to please.

Who are your favorite writers?
Roald Dahl, Philip Pullman, Kurt Vonnegut, Annabel Crabb.

Who are your favorite poets?
Hmm. Not really a poetry guy, but I do like the elegance of a well-crafted haiku.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Yossarian from Catch-22.

Who is your favorite heroine of fiction?
Lucy from the Narnia books. I also used to have a bit of a lit-crush on Nancy Blackett from Swallows and Amazons.

Who are your favorite composers?
Joseph Haydn, Ludwig van Beethoven

Who are your favorite painters?
Jeffrey Smart, and the Heidelbergers.

What are your favorite names?
Anything spelt conventionally.

What is it that you most dislike?
Injustice and deceit that leads to injustice. I'm looking at you, footballers of the world.

Which talent would you most like to have?
To be able to draw like Shaun Tan.

How would you like to die?
Peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming in terror like his passengers.

What is your current state of mind?
Excited about the opportunities before me, slightly stressed at how little time there is to achieve them all.

What is your motto?
"A drop of ink may make a million think." (Byron)

(For Facebook Notes readers: this post is redirected from my 'head vs desk' blog at headvsdesk.blogspot.com)