Tag Archives: Gabriela Blandy

Try to get ahead too fast and you might end up with your trousers round your ankles

When I left drama school, I expected to become a successful actress immediately. I sent my headshot to directors and agents. Every time the phone rang, my heart convulsed, but usually it was my mother, wanting to know about my … Continue reading

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First drafts: allowing the worm to navigate the soils of your mind

I decided to go on a retreat a few years ago. When people asked me why, I tried to explain, but always got a sense I’d left something out; I circled back to the beginning, tried again. Words followed words, … Continue reading

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Throwing away material without a sense of failure

When I finished my Masters in Creative Writing, three agents wanted to meet and talk about my novel. I remember thinking: I’ve made it! Despite being tongue-tied in one interview, turning up a week early for another, and being paranoid … Continue reading

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Trying to submerge a plastic bag with an air pocket

I have several recurring dreams. In one of them, I’m at university, faced with having to find a group to move in with for the coming academic year. But I’ve left it too late. Everyone has already made their plans … Continue reading

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The boy whose butter I ate: writing from the inside out

When I was fifteen, I wanted, with a desperate force, to fall in love. This desire was mirrored over a decade later – though it wasn’t love I was urgently wishing for, but a career as a writer. In the … Continue reading

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This is the year to land on your feet!

New Year’s Eve 2011, Dan and I are on a bus from Mount Barker to Perth. It’s full. People are already drinking, even though it’s not yet midday. Outside, the sun is vivid, passing through the window with ease, warming … Continue reading

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All a writer can ask

The first Christmas I remember, I was four. My dad was working on a project in Malawi to develop coffee production for those with smallholdings. My mother took me and my brother out to Africa for the holidays. (This is … Continue reading

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A bus is at its best when it’s a taxi

Dan and I are walking over the bridge to the bus stop. It’s not yet six o’clock, but the winter darkness has the river hidden. Only the streetlights can cut through the black, casting golden beams across the sodden streets. … Continue reading

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A collage of trees

My father says that he’s going to chop down the pines in the corner of the garden. They have grown beyond the space, their silhouettes distorted from pruning over the years. Still, this has never stopped the pigeons roosting and … Continue reading

Posted in History, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 29 Comments

An unexpected comfort

I’ve been in pain this week. Over the weekend, someone I trusted said many hurtful things, including unkind words about my writing. I’ve noticed the days going by – a reluctance to post on my blog, even though it has … Continue reading

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