Hard to believe that one of the biggest things to happen to me in my Writing Journey is something I haven’t talked about in here at all.

I recently had the honour of being included in the 100 Micro Memoirs from 100 WA Authors. Ourselves, the first anthology of its kind in Australia, Put together by the awesome people at Night Parrot Press, it includes 750-word stories from some of my absolute favourite authors/people too.

Seriously, I cannot state it emphatically enough the honour I feel having MY NAME and MY STORY published by a REAL PUBLISHER alongside so many people whose writing and accomplishments I admire and am inspired by.

They include (but are not limited to), In order of appearance:

Scott Patrick-Mitchell – I know SPM mostly through his prolific prize-winning for poetry but also he just seems a genuinely wonderful person too. I believe we cross paths occasionally when I comment on Holden Sheppard’s FB or something similar.

Katherine Allum – I’ve only seen her about the traps but liked she’s a fellow Murcan Expat (like Laura from NPP) and a beautiful writer. Her entry in this anthology is heartbreaking and beautiful.

Melinda Tognini – Another somebody I’ve seen around but I enjoy her through her blog and her newsletters. Great writer, neat person, Her entry in this is also heartbreaking and beautiful. I think I’m sensing an theme.

Sarah Moredoundt – Seen her around the newsletters and whatnot, recognised her name from something I’d read a while ago and can’t remember, but her story is simply beautiful. Heartbreaking only insofar that anyone who has ever been a parent knows That Exact Feeling she describes so thoroughly in the moment.

Gillian O’Shaughnessy – I’ve known Gillo for years, having interacted with her during her midday radio show on the ABC. Always through text, I would sign them using a fake name and she’d often read them on air. I remember once she wanted people to call/text with simple, three-ingredient, recipes and I said something about pasta, fresh basil and extra, extra virgin olive oil. Now, I have no real idea what makes olive oil virgin, extra virgin or what, but I know some of it tastes better, and if it’s a hero of a recipe you want the good stuff. So that’s why I said, “extra virgin olive oil too. I mean, the kind that’s never even seen a boy naked before.” or something equally irreverent and slightly-naughty. I was rewarded by Gillo snorting while she read it and saying quietly, presumably to her producer, “I can’t say this on air…” Achievement Get. Years later I’d email her and tell her I very much enjoyed her writing and congratulating her on the transition from ABC Radio Legend to author, even admitting my secret radio-text-name. When I found out she was in this anthology too, I emailed her my excitement and she told me how she was looking forward to meeting her “anthology buddy” at the book launch.

Andrew Tetlaw – This name tickled me because I knew I knew him, but it was only after Googling him that I figured out it was from my time with the Australian Web Industry Association and the Port 80 events here in Perth. Awesome to see he’s in this anthology too. His story is short and aching and reminds me of my wife’s stories of her mother and step-father. Sad that so much can be said about a generation in a few short words.


The ill-fated Book Launch for Ourselves was on the same night our youngest became a teenager, and only a few days before my hip-replacement surgery was scheduled. Wife’s body wasn’t co-operating in going to this launch and mine wasn’t either. Even after I’d emailed Laura Keenan (NPP) and she was so gracious and sweet about providing accommodation for somebody like me that would need somewhere comfortable to sit and need to bring along a cohort of children and spouse instead of the simple “+1”.

I wish I could have gone. It would have meant a lot to me to meet these people that I’ve only known through text and media for so long. I would have loved to have shared words, thanked them for what they’ve brought to my life, make them smile, make them laugh.

But I’m hardly me any more. I’m 25kg heavier than I would normally ever be. When I walk, it’s with a cane. I’m in pain a lot. A lot of the time. My mood is understandably affected by this. Which is a nice way of saying my mental health has suffered quite considerably.

Not to mention the impending house move as well, a stress that’s clouded over our heads for a while now. But the surgery, my new hip, my new lease on life, was something so hugely on our minds. We just couldn’t really focus on anything else. Except our boy, that is, and making his favourite meal and cake of course.

The surgery didn’t go through, an ingrown toenail had gone infected and they wouldn’t risk it. I’m still… processing this, and only yesterday was offered another date. My anxiety renews. As does my excitement.

Regardless, for the SECOND TIME I am a “published author” and I remain so incredibly excited that I’m immortalised in literature along with people whose writing (and achievements) I admire so much.

It really does mean the world to me, and I could not be more proud.