Monthly Archives: April 2013

Before Anzac Day

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It sounds a bit silly, doesn’t it, to have a title like this? Since Anzac Day 2013 is after the fact – by several days. But I was suddenly taken back to a time when the world was comparatively innocent; before events made Anzac Day a tragic icon. And all because a newsreader mentioned sabre-rattling in relation to a modern-day emperor!

One hundred years ago, it was one year and a few months away from a war that was so terrible and soul-destroying that we still look back through history in wonder and despair at the dreadful carnage and cruelty, overshadowed by courage and sacrifice that takes the breath away.

Weather conditions, combined with new and diabolical methods of warfare, against old-fashioned defences, all conspired to make the trenches of the Western Front a nightmare to transcend all.

As a child, I was aware of an indescribable feeling compounded of grief, horror and hopeless dread whenever someone mentioned WWI. There were still many people alive who’d gone through it and though they never said anything I picked up this vibe. It was so bad that I couldn’t bear to go there and so never studied it. I cannot, to this day, watch war movies.

When I grew older, I asked the question: “What caused WWI?” No-one could tell me. “It’s complicated,” they said. “There was no one cause.” Still, I couldn’t bear to study it.

Finally, when I got to Book III of the Master of Illusion series (Yes, it’s written.), I knew I would have to face my childhood dread and research the Great War as its backdrop. And guess what? Nothing had changed. That feeling of overwhelming grief and horror that haunted me all my life was exactly what I felt after my actual research. The dreadful loss of life. The terrible damage to those left alive. The futility of it all. The awe-inspiring courage and sacrifice of the young men who went into battle knowing they would die.

Would we line up like that knowing what they knew?

But back to 1913. Life went on as usual in the last year of the Belle Époque: fashions, hedonism; empire building; the usual protests, including women’s suffrage; small wars here and there, nothing serious; a general feeling of progress and well-being.

Yet discerning men were aware that Europe was fraught with tension: a sense that the fire was laid, tinder dry, waiting for a spark to set it off. (The murder on June 28 1914 of the Archduke and Duchess of Austria-Hungary provided it.) Small Emperors posturing, sabre-rattling (those words again); certain countries in terrible poverty, others comparatively rich; powers forming strategic alliances …

If any of this rings uncomfortable bells, it is because history is prone to repeat.

A small fry in the train of a major architect and prosecutor of WWI was an Austrian corporal. As a front runner from HQ he had been wounded, gassed and decorated for bravery. (You know who!)

If he had read his history he would not have attacked Russia and WWII might have had a different outcome. I guess we can be thankful that he didn’t read about Napoleon I. But, despite his experiences, he didn’t learn any lessons from WWI either. Had he done so, he could have saved us the years of misery, loss and destruction of WWII.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple: the seeds were already planted in 1919. A number of factors, including the unfair demands of the Treaty of Versailles, the misery of the people and Hitler’s mental condition led to WWII. (I don’t pretend to have my head around it all.)

It is a good thing to study history to avoid the mistakes of the past. I hope our present leaders have all done so. But just in case they haven’t, I think it would be good for all of us who believe in the power of prayer to pray with diligence for peace and understanding between nations.

I make this plea to our world leaders: Please don’t make us revisit this theatre of horror. Leave war where it belongs – in the pages of history.

Punishment or Privilege?

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While researching the period around the French Revolution, I came upon a reference to the guillotine which gave an unusual insight into the thought processes of the historical figures I delve into. I did find it quite a novel point of view and one that had never crossed my mind.

To me, the French Revolution, more particularly the time known as la Terreur, has always epitomised bloodshed and barbarism on a scale only equalled by the Roman gladiatorial contests in the coliseum. Shuddering through the blood-spattered pages of A Tale of Two Cities, I would hardly have thought it a privilege to mount the gory steps of Madame la Guillotine, attended by such notorious tricoteuses as Madame Defarge and a cheering pack of rabid and bloodthirsty sightseers in the Place de la Revolution, previously known as the Place Louis XV( now the Place de la Concorde).

Although similar devices had been used in Scotland and other European countries, its invention has been attributed to Antoine Louis. First called Louisette or Louison, it was later named after the gentleman instrumental in passing a law requiring its use in France for capital punishment. It was experimentally tried out on cadavers but the first living person to be guillotined was a highwayman, on April 25, 1792 in the Place de Grève.

But listen to this reason given by French physician Joseph-Ignace Guillotin, a member of the National Assembly at the time, for the introduction of the guillotine into France in 1792:

He said that all death sentences should be carried out by ‘means of a machine’ so that ‘the privilege of execution by decapitation’ would be available to all; and that the process of execution would be as painless as possible.

It would seem that decapitation as a form of punishment was reserved for the nobility; while common people were hung with grisly alternatives depending on the severity of the crime. Thus, decapitation appears to have been regarded as one of the many privileges enjoyed by the aristocracy. Certainly, it was one which a great number experienced during la Terreur. And while I can think of several terms to describe the process of the guillotine, privilege is not one that springs readily to my pen.

Painless? Perhaps. No-one has been able to come back to tell us. But privilege? I would hardly have thought so. And neither, I suspect, would the unfortunate souls deemed enemies of the Republic and brought in tumbrils through jeering crowds to end their lives in humiliation and despair. Although it surely has it over being hung, drawn and quartered (what kind of evil mind could dream up that one?), another gruesome alternative for the non-aristocracy, along with being burnt at the stake and broken on the wheel(thankfully banned by Louis XV).

The French Revolution may not have totally succeeded in its ideals for equality in life — and most definitely not for women. But I have to hand it to the Revolutionists: Madame la Guillotine certainly ensured equality in death.

 

 

Prayers For Boston

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 Today’s terrible news of the bomb attack on the Boston Marathon has left many of us grieving: for our friends, our fellow human beings, the city of Boston and our world.

My heart goes out to all caught up in this horror:

To the parents and families of the little 8 yr old boy and the two other people whose lives were stolen from them.

To the injured who face a nightmare journey of pain and rehabilitation.

To the athletes who dedicate so much of their lives to their pursuit; whose families came to watch them run the most famous modern marathon in the world.

To all the spectators and fun-lovers who had their day – and their lives – shattered.

To a beautiful, iconic city whose carefree innocence and happy village atmosphere will be forever changed.

To all those who now walk in fear and uncertainty – victims of terrorism.

Perhaps we can appreciate the circumstances that sow the seeds of discontent, but none of us understands the evil that visits destruction and untold suffering on the innocent.

About 400 years ago, John Donne wrote immortal words, quoted many times (a truth but never a cliché) and more than ever applicable today:

‘No man is an island’.

From all of us who wish for a good and fair world, to everyone who has been touched by this senseless, shocking tragedy:

We send you our love, our thoughts and our prayers.

PS They Weren’t Joking!

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Last Monday’s Country Leader showed a member of Animal Liberation holding a very strange contraption, a helicopter drone. It looked like something out of Doctor Who. And guess what? The date wasn’t April 1.

One of the reasons this man gave for flying these things over farms was that if they saw sheep dying of flies they could report it to the proper authorities.

I have a suggestion for you: report it to the farmers. Being on the spot they’ll be able to save them. Isn’t that better than reporting dead and dying animals to whoever the authorities are? Too late and after the fact!

I’d like to quote an 85yo retired farmer: When told of the drones he said, “Oh good. They should give them to the farmers. Then they’ll be able to take care of the animals themselves.”

Sadly, it is often very hard to detect flies on a sheep before it is too late. (Maggots release a toxin into the blood.) I doubt whether a person not trained in sheep behaviour would notice all but the most extensive instances of fly-strike. Sometimes, it only takes a tiny patch (5cmx5cm) to be toxic. If it is under the sheep’s belly it can be impossible to detect without upending the sheep.

The only real help is prevention, but chemicals are expensive and dangerous. I have always used long-acting chemicals that stay in the wool for a number of weeks and have sometimes wondered whether my stoush with breast cancer can be partly attributed to all the Diazinon showers I’ve taken over the years while putting sheep through the jetting race before we knew it was a carcinogen.

As mentioned, I don’t think drones would be very helpful in the matter of fly-strike in sheep, but calving heifers, now, that’s another story! I think longingly of sending out a drone to check my calving heifers instead of crunching over frost-embroidered hills, teeth chattering. Sneaking around so I don’t disturb them, close enough to see if they’re in trouble, far enough away to be safe if they get up and charge me. Heifers can become very upset when they’re calving and act completely out of character.

The farmers are reported to be unimpressed by the idea of drones, but when they think about it I’m sure they’ll see all the advantages of this new technology, just as the retired one did. The problem is that it is beyond the financial reach of most of us. The only one who seems to be able to afford it is Animal Liberation – thanks to the generous donations of its members.

But wait! Have we done an environmental impact study on this little gadget? Made sure it won’t terrify the birds? And is not noisy or  intrusive enough to spook our horses, stampede our sheep and cattle or put our hens off the lay? Yes? Excellent!

So how about it, Animal Libbers? Are you prepared to help the farmers help their livestock? Then, they’ll be able to save any poor animal they may have missed on their daily rounds.

I see this as a win-win situation all round: for the animals, the farmers and the activists.

Bring it on! Let’s do it!

 

Truth or Injustice?

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Listening to the local news at breakfast on Easter Monday, I almost choked on my toast when I heard something about drones being sent over farms at a height of less than ten metres to make sure that farmers were not being cruel to their animals. In the same professional tone the newsreader said that a Farmers’ Representative had stated that if they did that then some farmers would shoot them down.

Farmers – a put-upon minority group – accused of wholesale cruelty unless someone was watching? I spent about two hours churning before I realised the date: April 1.

But it set me thinking, wondering why this news item, though outrageous, didn’t seem out of the realm. Animal activists have been picking on the farmers lately. And they go for us at really bad times like droughts and GFCs. They say they want animals to be happy.

“So?” say the farmers. “What’s new? We spend our lives doing everything in our power to keep our animals happy.”

Personally, I think the answer lies in the understanding of what does or doesn’t make an animal happy.

Now, I don’t have particular insight into the minds of my animals (I only wish I did), but I can tell you what any farmer knows: If animals are under stress of any kind, their health and production decline dramatically with death the bottom line.

Conversely, an ideal environment is one with no physical or psychological stresses, in which the animals can happily thrive and perform to their genetic potential.

In other words, farmers have a vested interest in keeping their animals happy, not only from an ethical point of view (which most of us do have), but because unhappy animals do not produce.

Having said that: there are good and bad farmers. I only speak for the good ones.

So: how do we tell if animals are happy?

Not by putting ourselves in their places and thinking how we would feel! (What does a dog like to do best? And how about the expression: ‘happy as a pig in mud’?)

I believe that, in animals, happiness equates with well-being. Farmers gauge this by the health, behaviour and general brightness and demeanour of their animals.

As a race, we are fond of ‘humanising’ animals but the truth is that it is a mistake. They have not the brain structure to allow reasoning or imagination. Grave injustices have been perpetrated on animals due to forcing human expectations upon them.

From the scapegoats of the ancient world, cats burned as witches’ familiars, pigs put on trial for stealing and other crimes in the middle-ages, to the cute monkeys adopted by misguided animal lovers (because they look like babies they are treated as such); history attests to the injustice of human imagination having endowed these hapless creatures with qualities they cannot possibly possess.

The weird, intense eyes of a goat, cat or owl are not evil or supernatural, it is human imagination that sees them so. Despite an uncanny resemblance, those tiny monkeys are not babies, and their sadness and frustration will remain with me forever. Injustice stacked upon injustice! Humanising: A great wrong.

Sadly, history abounds with incidents of animal abuse, yet in some cases they received better treatment than humans. The parable of the prodigal son, for instance, or a great 19th century racehorse and his jockey. (I am not excusing it – on the contrary – just reporting with a heavy heart.)

We must be aware that what an animal may consider an acceptable environment need not necessarily coincide with the human perspective. (That varies also: Take a walk through an inner city park at 7 o’clock on a Saturday morning.)

Is this bandying of accusations pots calling kettles? A case of ‘pull the log out of your own eye …’? Or just another illustration of human injustice?

 

 

 

From Closet Writer to (Self-)Published Author

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My secret dream has finally come true! And I only half believe it.

For years, I scribbled away, feeling guilty when I took time out for my hobby; hiding my work from others. But it’s not a hobby, it’s a passion; a compulsion. When I sit down with a pen something takes me over and a whole morning can go by before I surface.

I find myself getting up at night, or jotting on odd scraps of paper because inspiration strikes at odd times. If this sounds familiar, I believe it is a common symptom shared by writers.

One day, I looked around at my piles of manuscripts and decided to see if I could make ‘my obsession my profession’.

I joined a fledgling writers’ group. One of the members read my work and we went to a workshop at NEWC, ‘Mind Your Business’ with Dr Jeremy Fisher. I picked up on some gems of advice: Get a website, show you’re prepared to engage with readers and promote your work; go to writers’ festivals; meet people in the business.

An author talk by Matthew Reilly held me riveted. Here was a man radiating positive energy. It is clear that he loves his work: A man living his dream.

The main thing I took away with me: He believes in himself. None of his wonderful achievements would have happened had he not self-published his first book.

I resolved then and there not to let self-doubt stand in the way of my dream.

Publishing is a business, whether self or otherwise. It is important for self-published authors to have their work professionally edited. You may be grateful you’ve spent the time and money. Editors pay close attention to details that could come back to haunt you.

By an amazing set of circumstances, I found a web designer who was not only a talented and intuitive designer, but an editor and marketing analyst as well. When she suggested I put my novel out as an ebook while I tried to find a publisher, something clicked in my head and I bolted with it.

Forget finding a publisher, I’ll do it, myself. The idea took me over. I read Authorpreneurship by Hazel Edwards – several times, marking the pages. It contains invaluable advice, demanding honest evaluation. I researched blogs of self-published authors, borrowed books from the library.

One of these sounded great: positive and chatty. I went to her website. There had been one post since 2007. I clicked on ‘Comment’ and was taken to another person’s website offering to sell me information!

Rest assured if there is anything I have learned or will learn about self-publishing it will be available for others right here – for free. You only have to ask.

I moved quickly, using my ABN to register a business name and get started.

There were many daunting moments: no domain available in my name; agonising over a nom-de-plume; applying for an ISBN; registering for CiP; and then the big one that almost stopped me in my tracks: I had to have a US tax ID to sell my book on Amazon.

Here, the asa (Australian Society of Authors) was wonderful, organising a US tax seminar at just the right time for me. I met published authors, including the kind and generous Susanne Gervay, who took me under her wing, introduced me to her friends and generally made me feel comfortable. A few days later, success! I had my EIN.

Towards the end of the publishing process, I realised that writing Master of Illusion was the easy part. I fell in love with my characters, let them call the shots and went on a fascinating ride, never knowing what was just around the corner. I loved every minute of it.

There are many people I have to thank for help along this journey. You know who you are and how much I love and appreciate you. All of you.

So what happens now that StoneHut Publishing has run down the slipway and is heading into uncharted waters with the author at the helm? Will it be fair wind and plain sailing from here? Or are there hidden rocks and shoals out there? Monsters of the deep? Waiting …

Watch this space!