I read a short story in 2015 that left me staring at the wall in dumbfounded awe while I tried to absorb it. The story is ‘The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas’ by Ursula Le Guin, written in 1973. I’m not even going to try to sum it up, I’m just going to urge you all to read it, because within its many treasures is a profound and timeless question about every one of us.

Later on in the year I watched Ursula’s acceptance speech at the National Book Awards, and it confirmed that this year I have found someone very special to look up to as I take on new writing challenges in the coming year.

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Our baby girl

Our baby girl

I have been a bit quiet lately, and it’s not just that I have been busy writing my new book. We welcomed our second daughter into the world just over two weeks ago, and I am a very proud and busy mum at the moment. I plan to spend the next few months focusing primarily on our family, but Book 4 is well on the way, and I have a few other exciting projects in the pipeline, so keep checking back for writing news. Meanwhile, if you have read my previous books you can find plenty of extras at www.beneaththeshadows.com and www.shallowbreath.com. Happy reading!col-md-2

DolphinThe Indian Ocean on Sunday was cold enough to steal your breath, but we barely noticed. For the fourth time in my life I had the privilege of swimming with dolphins in their own environment – on this occasion with Rockingham Wild Encounters. There are approximately 200 dolphins in the area, and every day the boat sets out to find them. If they are lucky enough to come across a group willing to socialise, tourists enter the water in small groups and form chains by holding onto each other’s weight belts, while being towed along. This calm entry and relaxed behaviour in the water causes minimal disturbance, and the dolphins respond enthusiastically, swimming close enough that I was half expecting to feel the hefty flick of a fin or tail. There is a ‘no touching the dolphins’ rule on the tour – stipulated because skin contact can pass on harmful bacteria. However, this also means is that these dolphins are used to humans who keep a respectful distance, and as a result they are prepared to come much nearer, and even bring their young close too. At one stage on Sunday we had nine dolphins around us – and a dolphin even stopped and ‘buzzed’ me – just like Nicky the dolphin does to Desi in Shallow Breath (and if you’ve read the book you’ll know what that means!)

They stayed and swam with us on Sunday because they wanted to – there was no feeding, no tank walls, no training or tricks. When they’d had enough they moved on, and we got back on the boat and tried to find another group who might want to play. We saw them nursing, playing, rooting in the sand for prey, and swimming as a pod, the mothers and aunties hovering protectively over the youngsters. It was beautiful. As always, while in the water with them I briefly forgot everything else.

A dolphin’s use of echolocation gives them a kind of X-ray vision. They can see right through us. Scientists are still examining exactly what they might see, but perhaps it’s more interesting to note what they won’t see. They don’t see us driving our cars, building houses and cities or destroying them. They don’t see the shopping malls, the skyscrapers, our artwork, our aeroplanes, our space rockets, or our televisions. They know nothing of the world wide web. What they might see is an ungainly group of visitors, who can’t hope to match their graceful silhouettes, who breathe heavily through plastic snorkels. Masters of their own environment, they can see right through us.

The dolphins on Sunday reminded me of exactly why I wrote Shallow Breath.

 

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There’s a link to the answers at the bottom of the page when you’ve finished! You can also find the images in the gallery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you’ve finished, find the answers here!

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I had a fantastic time last night celebrating the launch of Shallow Breath at Tiger Lils in Perth. It was a fabulous turn-out, and I’d like to say a big thank you to everyone who came. As I said last night, writing might be a solitary occupation, but when it comes to getting books out into the wider world, us writers need a lot of support. It means a lot to me when people get behind my books, by letting me know they’ve enjoyed them, by spreading the word, or by turning up to an event like this.
The night got into full swing so rapidly that only hours later, when I went to bed, did I realise I hadn’t had time to put my heels on, and I’d spent all night in my sandals! We had door prizes and a book cover quiz, and then Julienne van Loon gave a wonderful speech to launch the book. She mentioned that there is a a marked bias towards male writers in writing about the ocean, and it’s gratifying to think I’ve played a small part in redressing that. I spoke about my inspirations for Shallow Breath, and then handed over to Leif Cocks, founder of the Orangutan Project, who talked a little about the dire straits orangutans are in today. Orangutans are one of five animals that feature in Shallow Breath, along with dolphins, whale sharks, kangaroos and elephants, so it was great to have Leif there to talk about some of the facts going on behind the fiction.

We also had an unexpected final speaker. My three-year-old daughter Hannah decided she’d like to say a few words – and now everyone knows she’s expecting a unicorn for Christmas I’m going to have to try to find one. Wish me luck with that!

So, now the launch is over, it’s almost time to start thinking about a new book… The idea I have for the next one is VERY different to Shallow Breath – watch this space!

Thanks again to everyone who came and helped to launch the book in style. You can see the full set of photos from the night in the Gallery.

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Geiki Gorge landscape, in the Kimberley

It’s not about rights
(though it seems some rights mean more than others?)

It’s not about need
(who can say about greed)

It’s not about whales
(or this rare, safe place they calve)

It’s not about flora, fauna, or natural heritage
(or dinosaur footprints left 130 million years ago)

It’s not about a wilderness few will visit
(out of sight, out of mind)

It’s not even about pollution
(the inestimable clog of it)

No, it’s not about any of this
(It’s all of this)

 It is that all this damage is irreversible
(i.r.r.e.v.e.r.s.i.b.l.e.).

Land and sea are irreplaceable
And afterwards
They are all we’ll have left.

S.A.V.E. T.H.E. K.I.M.B.E.R.L.E.Y.
(and all places like it)col-md-2

Signatures have been exchanged, and the deal is done. Most significantly for me at this stage, the deadline has been set. In January 2012, all being well, I will hand over my third novel. I began work in earnest this week, and welcomed back a familiar feeling of giddiness and discomfort – the usual combination of excitement and fear that is present when I’m writing.

I have given myself a huge challenge. All I’ll say about the story at present is that it takes place along the beautiful coastline of WA, and there’s a messy, complicated family (of course!), who are already hijacking my thoughts regularly. I have the feeling that however determined I am to take the reins of their story, there will be parts of the process where all I can do is hang on and try to enjoy the ride.

One of the best parts of this job is that readers I have never met are prepared to give my ideas and imaginings some of their precious time. My desire to write a fantastic story that will capture your heart and mind is as strong as your desire to read one, so wish me luck, and let the fun and hard work begin!col-md-2

Last night, one of the last images I saw before I went to bed was of a terrified Chinese toddler being held at knifepoint in the street by her father. The horror of that situation was not distilled by the frozen photo, the detached computer screen, or the fact I could flick away when I chose. Horrendous fear and suffering were transmitted in an instant.

I hadn’t searched this out. I wasn’t planning to read the news at that point. But it broke its boundaries and affected me. As did the Four Corners story this week, which I found out about thanks to twitter. I’m grateful I didn’t have to watch that footage, because I know it would still be haunting me. The photographs I did see were enough.

No one has taught me how to deal with these moments. I have had to teach myself, because, quite frankly, they have brought me to my knees at times. And the way I have come to terms with this is by becoming a more conscious guardian of my emotions, knowing when I can take action and when there is nothing I can do. From what I could gather (the article wasn’t clear), the little Chinese girl was rescued. Twelve hours later, the news has moved on, and I can’t even find it on the same site. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever know what happened to them.

However, with the push to ban live exports, there were at least petitions to sign. Where once upon a time I would have felt this was a fairly unremarkable gesture, I don’t any more, because of the emergence of a few amazing, energetic sites that have recorded some brilliant, measurable breakthroughs as a result of people power. Sites like Avaaz.org and getup.org.au (who ran a live exports petition), and organisations like the Wilderness Society (who send you the results of their actions) are doing a great job of bringing some critical issues to our attention. And despite the desperate, depressing news they bring to my door, they make me feel that there is something small but very important that I can do. They wouldn’t exist unless we were all choosing to add our names to causes we believe in. This weekend my family will be going to climate change rally in Perth on Sunday (there are also rallies in Melbourne, Hobart, Brisbane, Adelaide and Sydney), thanks to the information and reminders from GetUp. Our voices might be small, but they all count, and I’m buoyed by the words of anthropologist Margaret Mead: Never doubt that a small group of committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.col-md-2

‘The book is too perfect to disappear. Bookstores are fading, but there are also bookstores surviving.’ Annie Proulx

‘Living in a flat in the city it is almost impossible to have a sense of connection to place’ Tim Flannery

‘a still–Volcano–Life’ Lyndall Gordon quoting Emily Dickinson

‘the frontiers of consciousness, where words fail, but meaning still exists’ Lyndall Gordon quoting T.S. Eliot in his essay ‘The Music of Poetry’ (1941)

‘We don’t need more intelligence, we need more empathy.’ Tim Flannery

‘Depression is the refusal to mourn.’ Dorothy Rowe

‘We have a brief period of historical co-existence [between the book and the e-book] that is almost over as we speak.’ Geordie Williamson

‘Books are how I learned to manage solitude.’ Lev Grossman

‘Gaelle learns she doesn’t have to accept the gifts that have been bequeathed to her, but the worst thing is to remain silent. “Sometimes the stories that have to be told are the hidden ones.”’ Natasha Lester, talking about her book, What is Left Over, After

‘There’s a paradoxical unity of past, present and future. They are all ghosts. The present is always abandoning us.’ Jon Bauer

‘Give oneself permission not to know where something is going, and try to find the strength in that.’ Gail Jones on writing

‘If the past is where the pain is, visiting the past is also where the healing is… healing is the hand I want to hold to walk boldly into the future.’ Jon Bauercol-md-2