February 28, 2017

Deadlines

From the outset I was determined not to put pressure on myself in respect of deadlines. This was one writing project where I wasn’t obliged to write to a set deadline, so while I certainly set some goals, I wasn’t going to beat myself over the head if some flexibility was necessary about meeting them. Life after all does have a habit of getting in the way, and it certainly did towards the end of 2015 as preparation for the second Tamar Valley Writers Festival accelerated before this biennial event took place in March 2016. As one of those on the organising committee there was a definite need to juggle priorities.

And all that hard work was worth it, since the Festival provided an unexpected, and unlooked for opportunity to discuss my book project with someone in the publishing industry. As a result of piquing her interest, (which I believe was more than just being polite) there was a genuine offer to contact her with the detailed proposal and synopsis – when I’ve reached that point.

Well, OK, so I haven’t yet arrived at that point, but I’m certainly a lot closer to it than I was, with just two more interviews to go before the hard graft really starts in earnest.

Then it will be a question of finding out if my vision for the book I can see so clearly in my head, will translate into real and readable words, on real and printed pages.

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Magni

Fiona's gift

By Anne Layton-Bennett • June 14, 2026
It’s taken far too many months for this marvellous model to grace the dedicated desk space in my office. When Fiona comes to visit next she will be very surprised, and hopefully gratified, that her amazing creative talent is finally on display. We’ve known each other for a very long time, and during the insanely busy time when I was helping to run the flower farm, working part-time in a school library, doing a spot of journalism on the side, and fighting the proposed pulp mill that is the subject of the manuscript I’m hoping to get published, Fiona cleaned my house each week. There’s only so much a person can do after all, and it has to be said cleaning our house during those manic years was fairly low down on the list of my priorities. But Fiona is a woman of many talents and she certainly possesses one that I so don’t have: sewing and dressmaking. So over the years she’s also made a few garments based on the pattern of a favourite garment that I was particularly fond of, and she’s also done some clothing alterations for both of us. My skills with needles and thread are limited to sewing on buttons, and taking up hems on John’s too-long pairs of jeans. Anything else is beyond me. But this fabulous model is the pièce de résistance – along with the beautiful crocheted knee warmer she gave me last year. This was when winter was approaching and so determined was I to finish writing the book, I decided to get out of bed at the insane hour of 5am and get in a solid hour’s writing in before dog walking and the demands of the day took over. Fiona was also one of many Tasmanians who needed to be circumspect about her opinion of the pulp mill. It was a project that polarised people, including families and friendships. She was one of several who passed on snippets of useful information, but on the basis of anonymity so it couldn’t be sheeted home to her.  Needless to say Fiona will be one of those whose contribution will be acknowledged – when this book is finally accepted by a publisher.

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