My First Writing Thingy

Quite recently I was asked to participate in a blog chain. A most arcane series of posts by an insane cabal of angst-filled, pimple-faced teen writers, a demographic of which I, for better or worse, am a part of. The brief was simple enough. It was “What do you first remember writing of your own free will.”

I was wrong. This is not simple. This is actually quite difficult. It takes a lot of effort for me to go back through the preternatural ether of my early existence, past dinosaurs, echidnas, sand and strange smelly things to pick up such a strange morsel of remembrance. I have however located it. It is my name.

Unfortunately, due to privacy issues I can’t tell you my name. So that destroys what may have been a wonderful, thought-provoking post about my name and its Hebraic origins. I learnt a bit of Hebrew last week for faeces and laughs. I can still remember a couple of basic phrases like the assertive “Slikha!” and the perennial “Ani mevin ivrit?” Ah, Hebrew. What an idiosyncratic language, like the multi-coloured swirls of oil in the potholes of the road of existence, you never fail to provide me with a sense of exhilaration and renewed enthusiasm with this grey and robotic world.

But returning to the topic at hand, I do remember something… So clear now despite its temporal distance… Like it was yesterday…

*bites capsicum and looks off into near distance*

It was several pages of a marvellous epic, a tale about two Kiwis (the birds not the people) named Tooa and Ayot. It detailed their whimsical journeys to the beach and back, and the start of a journey, via container ship, across the wide Pacific Ocean to mysterious Pitcairn Island.

In hindsight it contained some quite advanced concepts, like the futility of anthropomorphising small flightless birds, a certain human hunger for the different things (through an Avian prism), and a titanic struggle against the forces of nature in their heart-pulsing search for small littoral crustaceans.

I think it was at that moment, with my highly detailed plot structure, character profiles, and intricate illustrations, that I knew what path my life would go down. I knew that my lifelong dream would be achieved. I knew I that if I knuckled down, tried hard, pushed myself to my utmost limits, I could become an apprentice baker in a rural branch of a gigantic supermarket conglomerate.

Want to follow our blog tour? Here are the participating parties, day by day
October 15th — – A Farewell To Sanity
October 16th — – Eat, Sleep, Write, Repeat
October 17th — – Tay’s Tape
October 18th — – Novel Journeys
October 19th —- – Red Herring Online
October 20th —– Kirsten Writes!
October 21st — – The Incessant Droning of a Bored Writer
October 22nd — – Here’s To Us
October 23rd — – Teens Can Write Too! (We will be announcing the topic for the next month’s chain)

Project Film

My idea is simple. To create a glorious, virtuous propaganda film that exposes the truth of our society and raises the profile of our most righteous and revolutionary organisation.

It will be filmed in the Great Lakes, in Bungwahl, and in Sydney’s Inner City and Southern Suburbs. It will be action-packed detailing the adventures of proletarian revolutionary Paco Alvarez, including a battle within Sydney, a retreat to the wilderness (Bungwahl) and a glorious return along with a revolutionary army to the harbour city. There will be guns, explosions, fights on the barricades. There will be city streets and wilderness. There will be Pythonesque humour and more irony than you can shake a stick. And a catchy soundtrack!

Volunteers? Ideas? Feedback? Hatemail? Get back to me, and my mercy shall be swift and brutal.