NSW Premier’s Literary Awards 

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We need to talk literary news. NSW Premier’s Literary Awards news. And by talk, I mean let me tell you the winners 

Royall Tyler won the Translation Prize

Jan Owen won the Early Career Translation Prize

Maxine Beneba Clarke won the Multicultural Award for The Hate Race. (Maxine wrote an acceptance speech which her editor, Robert Watkins, read on her behalf. He cried, the audience cried. A beautiful message of doing better and being kinder.)

Leah Purcell won the Nick Enright Prize for Playwriting AND the Book of the Year

Both Shelley Birse and Abe Forsyth won thr Betty Roland Prize for Scriptwriting 

Leanne Hall won the Patricia Wrightson Prize for Children’s Literature

James Roy and Noel Zihabamwe won the Ethel Turner Prize for Young People’s Literature 

Peter Boyle won the Kenneth Slessir Prize for Poetry

Thornton McCamish won the Douglas Stewart Prize for Non-Fiction

Michelle Cahill won the UTS Glenda Adams Award for New Writing

Heather Rose won the Christina Stead Prize for Fiction…. she was set upon by a band of rampaging feminist fans, picture below

My friends Lisa Fleetwood, Helen Petrovic and I throwing ourselves at Heather Rose. She was AMMMAAAAZZZZIIIINNNGG.

Read a more detailed summary, by Helen Petrovic, here.

Why Don’t You Just Block Them?

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I blocked this person, claiming to be a writer but has a dating site as their website, pretty quickly. They continued on tweeting about me for another 15 screen caps. And what was it in response to? I called Donald Trump and Mark Latham a cunt. I didn’t @ this person, I don’t follow them and never have. I simply tweeted this- (Note: all screen caps are of PUBLIC posts)

It chose to interact to tell me that women shouldn’t swear and then to call me a bad mother because of it. It then chose to @ me pretending they were responding to things I had said long after I had blocked them. So this is possibly why people don’t just block, because some fake accounts will continue to harass you and slander you long after you block them. How about instead of telling people to just block, we tell harassers to stop being arseholes? They chose to attack me, my parenting, my relationship, and my writing skills all because they said they didn’t like swearing. 

Mum was a potty mouth? Mum is a potty mouth but she rarely swears in front of us.

Yeah, I want attention, that’s why I’m harassing random people on the internet and refusing to leave them alone. Oh wait, that’s not me.


Ohhhh but wait, they also swear. They’re attacking me for swearing yet it’s okay for them to swear. Clearly their issue with swearing is contrived nonsense and just an excuse to troll.

They are well and truly blocked at the point yet still keep going. 

Spoiler alert it says Jesus and Hell a lot. That’s considered blasphemy and cursing.

Don’t swear ladeez, it’s only for men. Men won’t think you’re attractive if you swear and we all know that’s the most important thing ever.

What is this “No girl” shit? I never told her to get over it. She wants to not swear she can not swear, don’t shove it down my throat. She’s the one forcing her way on others, I didn’t start @ing her demanding that she swears.

Bring hella fury??? I haven’t responded to her in ages. Show? I’m not on TV or YouTube. What the heck???

So now it is telling Adam Hill how many hashtags he can have? Why is it still @ing me? WTF is “you like?” In regards to? Is it imagining a conversation between us? Is it responding to imaginary tweets? What mistress, what old club? WTF?

It’s doing it again. Responding as if I said something. It’s responding as if I said, “Don’t tweet that shit at me, I’m a wife and mother.” Literally never happened. People deserve respect because they are people, until they lose it by having tirades about my fitness to parent, and tone policing me. Respect has nothing to do with how many babies came out of you, it’s about being a decent person. So it is way off base with their imaginary conversation.

And I’m spent. So this is why it’s not as simple as blocking. Because they can keep at you after you blocked them. They can keep pretending to be conversing with you after you blocked them. They can continue drawing attention to you long after you blocked them…. seriously, still block and run though. You don’t need that popping up in your notifications. Just saying it isn’t so simple.
Oh, and for the record, Mark Latham and Donald Trump have a history of abusing and marginalising women, so I absolutely stand by my first tweet. Fuck ’em.

Natasha Lester: #Robinpedia

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Natasha Lester is an Australian writer with a Masters in Creative Writing and a PhD in being farken fabulous. When she isn’t writing she enjoys yoga, sorting through her extensive lipstick collection, buying shoes, and drinking gin. I believe her gin cupboard looks something like this. 

Prior to entering the Australian authorial world Natasha Lester worked in public relations and marketing. She has worked for heavyweights such as L’Oréal, Maybelline and Harlequin. Thankfully she abandoned the glamorous life of PR and became a povo writer instead. It involves just as much drinking of gin but far less money.

 

Lester’s first book, What is Left Over, After was published by Freemantle Press in 2010.She did what any first time author would do and took a bunch of shelfies. Don’t pretend that we don’t all do it. This was followed up in 2012 with If I should Lose You. For her third book, Lester switched to writing historical romance. She released A Kiss From Mr Fitzgerald in 2016 through Hachette, this was quickly followed up by Her Mother’s Secret in 2017.

 

When Natasha Lester isn’t doing yoga whilst writing and applying lipstick she teaches writing. Frequently through The Australian Writers’ Centre.

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Find Natasha Lester’s website here

 

Chat to Natasha Lester on Twitter here

 

Drop Natasha Lester a line on Facebook here

 

Grab her books here

 

Check out my review of A Kiss From Mr Fitzgerald for Newtown Review of Books here

 

Read more about Robinpedia here

 

Buy my shit here

Confessions of a Mad Mooer: I screamed and screamed and screamed but nobody would listen to me

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I have been diagnosed with postnatal depression twice in my life, both times I begged for help very loudly and very clearly, and it fell on deaf ears. 

Mixed Media Canvas by 

Sillier than Sally Designs

People seem to think that women with postnatal depression keep everything bottled inside and never ask for help. I did ask for help. I begged for it. Sure some people have never ever asked for help ever, but most actually do. 

Firstly I asked my husband for help when my daughter was born. He said no. He reminded me that the nurse we did a birth course with said that the working partner had to be fit for work so it wasn’t appropriate to ask them for too much help. And she did say that, she really did  I told my GP I wasn’t coping, that my daughter wouldn’t sleep so I couldn’t and I was exhausted. It took her two hours to feed, then she’d only sleep in my arms. The GP flat out told me I was lying and being a typical first time mum. She said if that was true I’d be dead. I said I was already throwing up and my legs were buckling under me. She just sighed and told me that as my daughter was 5 weeks premature that she needed extra care and to deal with it. I spoke to my community nurses, they again said I was just being a hysrical first time mum. To just cut her off feeding and to put her down. Putting her down resulted in her shrieking in pain, a piercing cry far different from I’m hungry or I want a cuddle, and then would explode in vomit. I told the nurses and the GP this. They just sighed and dismissed me.

Now that I’ve read The Girl Who Cried Pain I understand why. It’s because women are far more likely to be dismissed and left untreated by medical professionals. It’s why women have to see doctors more often, we get sent away without follow up treatment or testing. We have to go back. This study should be mandatory reading for all medical students.

When my daughter was 4 months old she needed her vaccinations, my regular GP was busy, the receptionist recommended another GP. I took the appointment. When I put my daughter down to be weighed and she immediately began shrieking and then gurgling with vomit the doctor diagnosed her with reflux. It wasn’t a subtle case. It was an obvious case that should have been picked up by any medical professional easily. But of course, the ones I’d encountered had their “hysterical mother” blinkers on. She also picked up that my daughter had hip dysplasia. It was so bad that a large part of her pelvis hadn’t formed. Within two weeks my daughter had been put in for surgery and placed in a spica cast. She was also given reflux medication. These are two things a parent CANNOT treat. These are two things that specialists need to diagnose and treat. The medical system failed my daughter because they didn’t listen to me because they felt that I was a silly first time mother. They made the start of my child’s life agony because of their unconscionable bias.

Of course after months of being ignored and left with no sleep I was in a bad way. I would cry, I would vomit, I would collapse. My body was broken but my soul was too. The medical staff hadn’t believed me and my husband trusted them over me because they had the medical degrees. He started to come around after the specialists came flocking and he realised the initial medical professionals had been very fucking wrong and he had been wrong to believe them and treat me accordingly. After my daughter was starting to settle my new GP, the only one I see now, said that now that the intensive treatment of my daughter was starting to dissipate it was time to focus on me.

I was given a mental health check, I failed spectacularly… or aced it? I was prescribed antidepressants and referred to a psychologist. I got the initial set amount and then the two extensions for more for extreme cases. That’s right, extreme. There was nothing subtle or small about it. And I continued to see that therapist afterwards until my money ran out. Things began to settle.

And then I had a miscarriage followed by reoccurring bouts of pancreatitis. It was not fun and involved far too much time in hospital for my liking.

Enter the twins. I got pregnant with twins immediately after a three week stay in hospital. Clearly my husbandis a very sexy man and I just can’t keep my hands off him. The pregnancy went really well up until 30 weeks. And then it continued to go badly until my boys were born via emergency c-section at 32 weeks. They were 8 weeks early. The spent 3 weeks in the NICU. When I went for checkups for the twins back at the hospital I said I was exhausted and having three kids under three years old was really hard. I also mentioned that the twins clearly had reflux like their big sister had and having to keep them both upright was hard, they were basically living in their car seats being rocked. The hospital paediatrician told me that all prem babies had some reflux issues but it couldn’t be that bad or they wouldn’t have been discharged. Again, I was called a liar. When I spoke to the hospital social worker she said, “That’s life in the fast lane.” I was again dismissed.




And then I ended up in hospital with pancreatitis again. Doctors don’t know why, that’s the reality for 20% of cases. So I was in hospital pumping milk but not allowed to eat or drink. I kept needing shots of glucose. At no point was I offered any assistance on how I was to cope with this situation. I was discharged, still weak and sick, and expected to immediately go back into full time care of my three children, the oldest was two. Given that the medical professionals weren’t willing to say I was sick and needed help why would my husband and others believe I was? So I suffered on. And I truly mean suffered. Until my boys and I ended up in hospital again.

The boys had bronchiolitis. My daughter had a cold and had passed it on to the kids. We’d been told to have our daughter taken care of by family members so that she wasn’t in the house with the boys as they were too little. Unfortunately we couldn’t get someone who would look after her for the duration of her cold and she was returned to us sick complete with an lecture. The boys got sick. The boys couldn’t breath so off we went.

I was ready to die. Nobody would listen to me again and I knew that people rush to help widowed men. It was time to die. I had decided that once my husband visited the boys in hospital I would pretend I was going to the bathroom but in reality walk into traffic. And then the paediatrician who had treated my daughter for reflux walked passed talking to another doctor. I had one last hope. I called out and said hello. He looked over at me, immediately excused himself from the other doctor and came over. I looked like hell and he wasn’t going to walk passed like everyone else. Hevsat me down and asked me how I was. I told him, just like I had told everyone else, but he believed me. He didn’t dismiss me. He called the NICU social worker. She was a different one from the one I saw when my boys were in a NICU. She apologised and saidI should have been picked up earlier. I had several risk factors

  1. Premature birth
  2. The under threes were outnumbering us
  3. Previous history 
  4. I had been hospitalised with illness 

I should have been helped long before this moment. I should have been referred at the very latest when I was hospitalised with pancreatitis. She was so sorry. They could have referred me to get 50 hours babysitting a week because I was an ill primary carer. BUT I was passed that now so she was going to refer me to the hospital psychiatric team. They referred me to a psychiatric hospital with a Mother and Baby unit. Once the boys were well enough to be discharged from the regular hospital we went straight there. And the rest you know because it’s in my book.

I was one of the many women who did not suffer in silence. I suffered out loud very much BEGGING for help and was ignored. I am not alonein this. Perpetuating the stereotype that women who aren’t helped simply didn’t ask for it, or didn’t ask for it correctly, is dangerous and victim blaming. We need to demand more of our medical professionals. We need to demand a systematic change in the treatment of women. And yeah, I get it #notallmedicalprofessionals but enough of them.  Enough of them to make it a subconscious bias that pervades the field. I again urge you to read The Girls Who Cried Pain. Let’s not keep women screaming in the wilderness. Let’s demand change. We are 50% of the population and deserve equal respect and equal treatment. 
If you or someone you know has postnatal depression, don’t hesitate to cook them fully prepared meals (not partially, FULLY), and do their washing. You can also find great resources at The Gidget Foundation.
So, how did hearing my story in my own words compare to hearing it from journalists from Kidspot and Femail?

Suicide is the number one cause of death amongst women postnatally, not medical complications. Don’t you think it’s time we started to listen to women when they ask for help?

Find my book on booktopia or everywhere

Confessions of a Mad Mooer: I’m in Kidspot 

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Image courtesy of super babe Josie Neeves Photography.

Tania Connolly recently conducted an interview with me about my experience with postnatal depression and having three under three. Hope you enjoy it.
http://www.kidspot.com.au/parenting/parenthood/mums/how-three-under-three-left-me-in-a-psychiatric-hospital

It is always interesting for me reading about my own experience but from another person’s perspective. How did you find reading my story, that you’re used to hearing about from me, through Tania Connolly’s lense? How does it compare to my first ever interview with one Lauren Ingram?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-4083002/Mother-contemplated-suicide-reveals-s-like-psychiatric-hospital-post-natal-depression.html

Grab my book from Booktopia or everywhere really. 🙂

You Can’t Insist An Entire Cultures Gets Stockholm Syndrome 

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Let’s try an empathy task today. Can you imagine if someone broke into your house, held you prisoner, made you work for them, raped some of your family members and stayed in your home enslaving you until they had their own family, which you were also a slave to, and got too big so moved out but moved next door? In fact, they and their family moved into every house on the street. They stopped beating you but they still treated you like you were less than them and complained that you didn’t come to street parties. And then on top of all that, they got one of your own artwork, had it printed on a t-shirt and started selling them. You got none of the money and gave no permission. Can you imagine that you’d feel grateful or like those people had taken violation to a whole new level? They’d beaten and subjugated you for years and now they were profiting off of it, do you think it would be reasonable for people to insist that you should just get over it because they weren’t literally in your kitchen anymore? Would you tell them to be grateful? I wouldn’t. They could feel angry and violated or they could feel apathetic or they could feel like they could capitalise. How they would feel would be up to them and I certainly wouldn’t be denying them their right to justifiable rage. As someone from outside of their home I wouldn’t get to choose how they felt.


You Do Mothers’ Day Your Way

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A note on Mothers’ Day:

Should you wish to spend it taking a break and relaxing, you should feel entitled to want that. Don’t let others make you feel bad for that.
Should you wish to spend it surrounded by your young children enjoying all their little quirks, you should feel entitled to want that. Don’t let others make you feel bad for that. 
Should you wish to be spoiled rotten for all the hard work you’ve done, you should feel entitled to want that.  Don’t let others make you feel bad for that. 
Should you wish for a hug and a kiss, you should feel entitled to want that. Don’t let others make you feel bad for that.
Should you wish to grieve either the loss of a loved one or the childhood an abusive mother stole from you, then you should feel entitled to do that. Don’t let others make you feel bad for that.

Should you wish to put your children at risk with negligence or abuse, don’t do that.

Should you wish to destroy another mother’s Mothers’ Day by making them serve and bow down to you when you’ve had decades of getting to be the mother when their journey into motherhood is just beginning, don’t do that. 

If your MIL or other always destroyed your Mothers’ Day by making you stressed and jump through hoops, don’t continue the cycle. Stop the tension and abuse now.

Should you wish to smugly state what you want and how it’s actually better than what others want and that you can’t possibly understand why they want what they do…. SHUT UP. Just don’t. How other people live their life is none of your fucking business. Unless it is literally child abuse keep your smug shit to yourself. Make a police report if it’s an issue not a FB post.
Love and kisses
Robin Elizabeth