Browsing All Posts filed under »Eureka Street magazine«

This little app

June 26, 2014

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It’s important  for writers – young or old, emerging or experienced – to place their work before an editor, for an objective judgement. In these times of blogging and instant posting/publishing it’s always tempting to rush into print. Many thanks to Eureka Street for publishing This little app this week (even though it had appeared […]

Standing still

February 3, 2012

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Eureka Street has just published a story about standing still, about school-crossings and dawdlers, about love and daydreaming. Here’show it starts: Some people laughed when I said I’d become a school crossing supervisor. They saw the big orange ‘lollipop’ Stop sign. They saw the daggy uniform. They saw the bizarre image of a bloke stopping […]

Life saver

October 12, 2011

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Online magazine Eureka Street has just published a new story. Here’s an excerpt: The doctor told Clyde he had glandular fever and needed a real rest, maybe a spell in a nursing home. ‘I asked, But what about Vera? Who will look after Vera?’ Behind his glasses his eyes reflect the bruise of the question. Read the […]

Record store pilgrim

May 11, 2011

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Eureka Street has just published Record store pilgrim. Here’s an excerpt: All of us are revealing a little of our non-work selves, latching onto something invisible — a riff, a chord, a chorus; holding onto something intangible — a melody, a key change, a lyric. And here’s the full story: Eureka Street, 10 May 2011

Swimming in ink

November 17, 2010

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Eureka Street has today published Swimming in ink, a story that began with one thought – the opening line – and then took on a life of its own. Here’s an excerpt: He is out there, a fellow water man, in the real dark, in the blue-black ink. I am just here in the shallows, […]

4.29 train to hospitality

November 9, 2010

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In in mid-October Eureka Street published a non-fiction piece about a train station conversation. Here’s how the piece begins: A stranger approaches. Melbourne Central train station, a Saturday afternoon. Heading towards 4.30pm. ‘Excuse me,’ the young man says quietly. I meet his brown eyes, behind his spectacles. We stand at right angles to each other. […]