Cirrus@Austlit

'There was a brief period of my life where at 2PM on a Sunday you could always find me at the local pub getting a little bit too competitive at trivia. Over this time I learned a lot of things: that if you put “Pavarotti” as the answer to every question you’ll eventually be right, that Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote Tarzan, and, most importantly, that the person who sounds the most confident in their answers might actually be talking complete crap.' (Introduction)

'About a year into our Voiceworks tenure, Elizabeth Flux and I found ourselves sitting in Carlton’s St Jude’s Church, sharing a romantic dinner and deconstructing every tiny thing that was wrong with our relationship. Despite the fact that I was un-wed — and Liz was married to somebody else (hi, Richard!) — we’d found ourselves enrolled in a multi-week couples counseling course, funded by the federal government’s marriage voucher program.' (Introduction)

'I didn’t want the theme of this issue to be ‘Bang’. There’s a sense of finality that didn’t sit right with me. It’s the sound of something ending.'

 (Introduction)

'I was a month out of school, two weeks into my apprenticeship. My boss, Dennis, had got a call. Some girl's toilet was spewing up instead of flushing down, and she was 'frantic', he said...'

 (Publication abstract)

'After a five-minute train ride out of the city, we're met with a harsh chill as we step out onto the platform and into the quiet district of Enskededalen. Surrounded by concrete and greenery, it's a stark contrast to the inner city of Stockholm that watches from a distance.' (Publication abstract)

'The laundromat near Lucy's house smelled of mould. There was a faulty coin machine at the entrance and a noticeboard above with handwritten flyers. The walls had been painted a vivid lime-green some time ago, and the cracked, grey tiles felt gritty under her shoes. A row of small tables lined the middle, trying to coerce you to stay and relax while your clothes twisted and turned in the ancient machines. The thumping of the wash cycles made the floor feel like it was moving beneath you... (Publication abstract)
 

'Like embarrassing first email addresses, most of us have superannuation, but if you're under twenty-five in Australia, chances are yours has been cooked for a while now. When we talk about future planning, the idea of super being our 'safety net' is thrown around a lot, something as taken-for-granted as Harold Bishop. However, despite being designed to replace the old age pension as our soft place to land when we retire, our superannuation system is a more complex and skewed beast than most of us might realise, and we're already paying for not knowing how it works. As it stands, super is built to benefit the old and rich at the expense of everyone else, seeing youth, women and the already-disadvantaged disempowered significantly by the system that's meant to be protecting them.' (Publication abstract)

' I was never particularly nice to my mother. I guess I found it hard to forgive her for being Chinese. We lived together with my dad, who never saw a foreign shore in his life, in a flat that was really only meant for two people...'

 (Publication abstract)

'I once had to talk my father out of eloping to Europe with a guy he had known for less than a week. It was early in the morning on my twenty-second birthday when Dad launched into a very elaborate wedding plan that was to take place in Milan the following month. From what I can remember, it mostly involved an exorbitant amount of Moet, Calvin Harris, and flying all forty-seven of the boyfriend's relatives over from Colombia.'

 (Publication abstract)

 

'I hadn't left my unit in close to a week. I woke up just before PM, did my best to shake off the feeling of silt that collected in my skull, and walked the ten metres to my car. The clouds were out like pack animals, huddled and stalking me - still no sun on my shoulders. I drove to Costco to stock up...' 

 (Publication abstract)

' I had been living with a crocodile for about twelve weeks before I decided it was time to leave. 
'This arrangement was one of no particular preference, nor great pleasure of mine, but it was one that was not entirely foreign to me either. After being kicked out of school and landing hard on my arse without a cent or any sense, the idea of moving back home was absurd. So to the crocodile's lair is where I stumbled.'

 (Publication abstract)

'The apartment I share with Serena is filled with depictions of undersea monsters. I am always excusing the d cor to houseguests. Explaining the vintage origins of the graphic Cthulu: Ruiner of Worlds poster. Insisting that it is not a real two-headed seal, but a taxidermy; not a fluorescent dildo, but a sea cucumber...' (Publication abstract)

'I'm a yellow bitch who paints their skin white. At dawn, I move through the streets like a zipper lining. At dusk, I piss blood. The magazines tell me gasoline wrecks the liver, but I suck it up through a hose anyway. There's old newspapers on the floor when I trample in - dog shit on the soles again - and when I call for X, I remember she's not here (she used to sit on the ground, bare ass sticking to the tiles, reading the paper with a fag between her teeth)...'

 (Publication abstract)

'Romance novels are widely considered frivolous, trashy and vacuous. They aren't reviewed in mainstream publications like the New York Times Book Review, nominated for literary awards, or well represented at literary festivals. They have been called 'mummy porn'. When I tell people that I write romance, I get raised eyebrows and the topic is quickly shifted - like I've confessed to something embarrassing or shameful. Because when you admit to reading romance, the most common question is 'How can you read that crap?'' (Publication abstract)