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'Eureka! So, I wrote this thing...'

I wrote this piece about Eureka  and it was printed in the Ballarat Courier.  There it was: an Opinion piece!  A little tweet  from Ballarat  flagged my publication,  fluttering past me that morning. A tweet  on a stick. Ballarat Courier, p.17. 5th December 2014 My stitching together of a tale across time. A flag, a symbol; staking a claim, owning a story. I have no hard copy of this paper, but I'm glad it's now also online . So, here are the flowers I bought myself to celebrate. To see another version of my piece, see also Eureka's Children newsletter from April 2015 Postscipt: On that note of flagging one's own achievements, I loved Sarah Burnside's  piece  in Overland, about the lexicon of pitching and writing. She writes of how we sell ourselves and our stories, exploring the 'So, I wrote this thing' line of self promotion. See above!

Overland short story prize 2014

Last year, Jennifer Down won the 2013 Overland short story prize with her work, Turncoat . Entries are open again for this year. Time to get writing, or redrafting and crafting. There's only about a month left until entries close on 31st August. (Mine is hidden behind the blog walls, for now.)

Stitch across time-a small Eureka moment.

A stitch, a rhythm, a picking over and pulling together.  History takes hold of a thread, and with a deft twist it can expose an underbelly, repackage a perspective or reveal a new truth. Tomorrow puts the yarn in my hand (the hand of the present) and offers the chance to remake some fabric of a story. I will be restitching the Eureka Flag, to its original proportions and using the same techniques, though not the same skills, as the original seamstresses.  The Flag of the Southern Cross. Eureka Flag, Museum of Australian Democracy at Eureka, Ballarat. Image Anna Sublet The Eureka Flag carries with it the sound of a call for democracy, a voice for those 'diggers' who were brutalised by colonial officialdom. It speaks of slaughter in a canvas camp, where the flag flew above the screams of an early morning injustice.  Unfurled, fluttering, standing to attention above the hill. What can our present stitching together tell us of this nation, this citizenry? Ar