2013 Events and Workshops
Our workshops are open to members and non-members.
Members pay discount prices. Please note: not refunds on courses.
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Major Activities 2013:
Please note: we do not give refunds on courses or programs
Quotes from Margo Lanagan's books
"She searched and searched for some object or dimple or unusual sensation underfoot. She searched until her teeth chattered and she could no more feel her feet, let alone the shapes beneath them. But all she found this time was squish and squash, fish-nibble and eel-whip and the flowering of mud up around her middle. A-dark said a frog to her; pok! said a fish; and a crane smoothed the air with its passing wing." from Tender Morsels
"Moths flew soft and silver. . . They were low like a mist, the moths, like a dancing mist, large and small like snow wafting on a breeze, as if the very air were so alive that it had burst into these creatures, taken wing and fluttered in all these different directions." from Tender Morsels
Wonderful lines by Marion Halligan:
"I wander my house, smelling the fiery air, staring out at the dense absence of light, the smoke sucks all life out of the air and you can hardly breathe, waiting, thinking is this apocalypse, grand term perhaps but that's what it feels like." Marion Halligan's experience of the Canberra bushfires in 2003 from "A Taste of Memory"
How would you describe driving in Europe? Here is Marion Halligan's impression: "The noise is something Dante could have made good use of for one of his circles of hell. When you are in a small red car on a hot day with no airconditioning so you have to have the windows down with enormous screaming trucks in front, behind, on either side and the sense you’re not driving fast enough for any of them, hell is where you think you are." [from Cockles of the Heart]
"Books, like bodies, need skeletons. A skeleton might be a plot, or a theme, an idea. The writer might not always know what it is. [My book] 'Eat My Words' was finished and between covers and out in the world before I realised that its skeleton was my autobiography." From "Cockles of the Heart"