The Reporter

29/03/2012

She was dressed in that print flowery cotton flowing dress kind of thing, that tries to hide an attractive figure, but fails. A camera was carelessly slung over one shoulder, sandals hung off her feet with the same carelessness. The other shoulder supported a voluminous bag, hanging heavily, indicating either a busy or unorganised life or maybe both.  Her face was young but old, inquisitive and ever watchful finding the pictures and action for a keen mind dwelling behind. She was Sally the reporter and she was here to file a story on me. John Condliffe jack of all trades and lately an author- Kiss of the King Brown.

We were at Aesop's Attic the local bookshop in High Street Kyneton. After introductions, we retreated into the back section for a chat. She took a couple of shots of me holding "The Kiss" Then she asked me who had designed the web site kissofthkingbrown.com.au she loved the colours.
It led on from there, this lady had done her home work,  she probed and prodded, I was impressed. But then how many interviews by reporters have I had in my life!

A few of the questions stand out:
What was the main thing you learnt from writing the book John? (The answers have been shortened) The sheer bloody hard work of it all, the loneliness of just you and the story, the learning and the knowledge required to make it, make sense. The mystery of that force which drives you to this space this place.
What was your favourite section of the book? I have a lot of favourite places but a couple are; Joseph and Sean are going fishing...they are in the bush walking  toward the river..."the trees here were bigger and wider apart. Joseph stopped by a big straight red gum marked with a yellow slash, he ran his hand over its rough bark. This fella he been here a long time. Them white fella, they soon come and chop him down, take him to the mill, make him into houses and chairs, sometimes just burn it. They keep chopping and cutting no place for Minga  to live, the spirit of the tree he gone. Who gonna keep the Marmoo away? he sighed and squatted under the tree..."
Another is when Sean has got into trouble and his mum has had to deal with the school hierarchy and  to put on a public face of disapproval and rectitude. Sean come home..."his mother stood at the back door in her waisted cotton print dress, house cardigan and apron. He dragged himself to her, and looked up apprehensively. She open her arms and crushed him into her. Her tears stung his neck and face. Her sobs shook his body, his tears came, stinging his cheeks, mingled with hers, wetting her dress... 'I'm sorry mum' he whispered. 'Sean you could have been killed!'  'I was an idiot.' 'Yes you were Sean, yes you were'..." 
The other was the creation story with Julungul the Serpent...

Beewee

The other was the Beewee story.
The other was the race...
Lets face it there are a lot of favourite bits for me.

Sally asked and talked, all the while she was opening me up like a can of sardines. She was very good at her craft. I was comfortable telling her about my story, of the writing of the story, so she could make a story. When we parted it felt good, having had the chance to tell my story to someone knowledgeble and empathetic. If it makes it into the paper or not is another story.