Oh look, at the beginning of March 2020 I was already reflecting ‘What a year’. Wow. No idea. Here in Melbourne the year since then has been quite something. Lots to reflect on; little to fully understand. Not yet. But here’s one vignette: I woke up one morning — I think it was in August — and heard some crows (ravens?) lamenting outside. Usually in our street you hear wattle birds in the morning, chanting in that cheerful, staccato way. Go team! But not this day. The sinister moaning of the crows cut through silent neighbourhood. A thought came to me, unbidden and unwanted. I thought, ‘I wonder if they can smell death’.
We were losing our elders, scores of them each day, and I despaired that it couldn’t be brought to an end. This is a city that usually jumps to hold a public vigil, a march, a state funeral, when a loss affects us all. Not possible during our relentless winter lockdown, but what were we to do with all this grief and fear? I’m still wondering what we did with it, now that we are shaking off restrictions and starting to enjoy crowding together again. For now, anyway. That’s one big change: we no longer think we know what’s going to happen.
So what of Textpod? The book was published! Rosedale’s Patrobas: The remarkable story of the 1915 Melbourne Cup. She’s beautiful and I am very proud. Since then I’ve been trying to wrestle a personal writing project to the ground, a novelisation of a World War I story, with the working title Dear brother. Thanks to my trusted first readers for constructive and positive feedback. It’s been eye-opening to be on the other side of the editing process. I knew it would be nerve-racking, and it was. It was also a relief to let go of my precious ego, at least for a time, and share the warts-and-all realities of writing. Collaboration has long been one of my favourite words and now it has even more meaning.
And so to all who have ever entrusted me with their manuscript, I say ‘Bravo’. And ‘thank you’.