Agony Aunt – Garage Graveyard

    Dear Agony Aunt,

    I spent 18 months of my life interviewing, photographing, writing, designing, laying out, producing (and having professionally printed in China), living and breathing a hard cover coffee table book. The first six months after the launch was great, okay, hard work. I did it all myself (aside from retaining the services of a professional editor) which I am immensely proud of. I have sold/gifted around 500 of 1000 books, which I hear is not bad, but it didn’t even pay for band aids and now my garage has become a sad and sorry graveyard. It’s a great book (if I do say so myself); I did hate it there for a while, but now I’m feeling sad for it and need to do something to move the last of the stock. Alas my post-production sales enthusiasm has dried up and I need help and inspiration on how I can relieve myself of the rest of my babies, so I can move onto a new book or project. Any advice that doesn’t involve matches and deranged laughter?

    — Garage Graveyard

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    Tags: Fictions

    TankwaKaroo, 13h41

    By Lauren Beukes

    An exclusive short-story from bestselling author Lauren Beukes – winner of the Arthur C Clarke Award, author of Moxyland, Zoo City and The Shining Girls

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    Click/Click/Click

    By Amelia Cox

    We sit in the lounge room. Me on one end, near the fire, and him on the couch. I’m typing, typing and then quiet, as I read. His mouse button clicks like a threatened gecko and I tense. Do you have to play that so much? I ask. He doesn’t hear me. Staring at the screen, his only response is to let off another round of clicks. Do you have to …? I repeat, tersely. He looks up, barely aware that I’ve spoken, and runs his hands through his hair, back and forth. It looks like he’s had a touch of electricity and I consider telling him this, but refrain. The clicking resumes.

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    Tags: Poetry

    Pimp My Poems

    By Fiona Wright

    Working on a poetry collection? Let Fiona Wright step you through the ins and outs of bringing your poems together.

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    Amazon Customer ReviewThe Drover's Wives

    By Ryan O’Neill

    DON’T READ THIS BOOK. NO, REALLY! DON’T!

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    Lecture SlidesThe Drover's Wives

    By Ryan O’Neill

    For those who didn’t get a lecture on ‘The Drover’s Wife’, now you can find out what you missed out on.’

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    TankaThe Drover's Wives

    By Ryan O’Neill

    Read The Drover’s Wife, retold as a 5-line Tanka poem.

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    a worserer wordSwear Jar

    By Ali Schnabel

    ‘mummy, I know a worserer word…’ Compound cusses coming atcha!

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    More Handsome than a MonkeyStories of Sydney

    By Peter Polites

    To Mama I was her thirty-three-year-old that moved out of home. She was scared for me. To her I was a kid with a drug problem who stole money from her purse. Her driver. A substitute for the love of her husband, someone to cook for, clean for and complain about.

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    The Last Day of Summer

    By Merran Jones

    Copper fields push back the woods. The sun spills the last of its warmth as cattle drag their shadows across the ground. The treacle air is thick with heat.

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    Tags: Round-Up

    Round-Up: Brain-warmers

    Round-Up: here to keep you occupied with events, reading and submission deadlines this fine July.

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    Every Second Sunday

    By Robyne Young

    When they met in the church hall that Saturday night, George was Gene Kelly out of the rain and Stella was tulled and rouged like a kewpie doll. Now in their eighties, they dance in the kitchen under the fluorescent globe that flickers and buzzes overhead. Tomorrow their son Andrew, who visits every second Sunday, will change it.

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    Something for the Pain

    By Gerald Murnane

    An exclusive short work from the author of Barley Patch.

    Sorry, members only ;)

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    Swings and RoundaboutsStories of Sydney

    By Sunil Badami

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    Chin

    Archive of Sent MailDaily labours or occasional writing

    By Astrid Lorange

    Index of sent mail (astrid.p.lorange at gmail dot com). Keywords supplied by an undisclosed collaborator and then searched, collected and edited according to emergent themes, syntactical sublime. The archive of sent mail represents the vast majority of the labour of writing – here rearranged as an appendix, poem collection. Illustrations by Irit Pollak.

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