The 2010 Sydney Writers’ Festival

IT’S all over now.
This particular writer is exhausted, inspired, liberated, berated, chastened, hastened and slumped.
My back hurts, my neck hurts, my feet, my hands, most bits.
So much time spent sitting, in your own sessions, in other people’s sessions in planes, buses, taxis. Not good for  the back, Tony.
(Have no idea who Tony is, but the name came to me so in it went.)

Being insulted by Alex Miller (Lovesong) as he bought me a cup of tea.
Listening in to Tom Keneally, Michael Cathcart, Richard Glover and Jack Marx as they wended they way through Australia’s past.
Sitting in a big hall watching and listening to John Ralston Saul, Michael Cathcart, Deborah Snow and Tony Kevin as they named The Five Things the World Needs to Change. Tense.
The final address by Peter Carey when he insulted us, the entire nation, said we were dumb and getting dumber. No-one disagreed.
Then there were two sessions I participated in.
One with Susan Maushart (chair), Richard Glover (ABC radio) and John Dale (crime writer and novelist).
It was our job, the men, to examine ourselves and discuss masculinity.
It was Susan’s job to lambaste us and make us look silly.
We all succeeded, with great humour.
For more, click: Masculinity  
Then there was a delightful session on memoir with two fine writers: Brenda Walker and Mark Tredinnick.
For more, go here: Memoir

It was a fine festival and run with charm and calm by Chip Rowley and his team of yellow shirts.

Jon Doust with Lone Frank, author of Mindfield.

Brenda Walker, Reading by Moonlight, Jon Doust Boy on a Wire, Mark Tredinnick, The Blue Plateau.

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