My Varuna Journal

Gallery Webmaster & Photos Copyright © 2003 Milli Thornton

Tip: If you don't have time to read the journal right now, print it out for later.

Friday, Feb 8, 2002
One shuttle, two airplanes, two trains, one cab, and thirty hours in transit and I'm here. As we approached Charles Kingsford-Smith Airport, Sydney was totally swathed in low clouds. All we could see of the city was the apex of the Coathanger (Sydney Harbour Bridge) arching through the clouds. But the sun came out later that morning, which made the two-hour train ride into the Blue Mountains simply glorious. Read more about my journey to Australia. My challenge is to stay awake

I'm settling into my second-storey private writing room, while looking out at the pines and the gum trees. I have a writing table, bookshelves stocked with dictionary and thesaurus, an ergonomic chair, a desk lamp, plug-ins for my laptop, a heater & a footrest. I stayed in my workroom for most of the day today, but I didn't go at it too hard in terms of the book. I started a fun project for some warm-up writing, and then realized it would fit nicely in the book. In essence, I tricked myself into doing three or four pages for the manuscript. My fellow writers are: Dan Disney, 32-year old poet; Rosalie Ham, working on her second novel; Evelyn Conlon, Irish

My private writing room

novelist; and Lindsay Simpson, self-proclaimed "ex-journalist" working on her first novel. They're a friendly bunch and we share convivial evening meals with the Australian wines we buy in Katoomba to go with the excellent food. Our off-site caterer, Sheila Atkinson, honks her horn every evening around 7 p.m. Sheila's horn is the signal to emerge from our writing cocoons and take delivery of yet another delicious feast, which we consume either in the dining room (witnessed by Eleanor Dark's portrait) or the library. This is the life! Nothing to do but write and eat like kings. This evening after dinner we all hopped into Dan's jeep and tooled over to The Three Sisters to see the sunset.

Katoomba sunset & moon

Something worse than fear of writing Alhough I'm feeling a little nervous about working on the book, a far bigger hurdle presented itself today. My laptop is crashing in Word for Windows. It's a problem I've had before with this laptop, so I know it's not from being plugged into an adapter to convert it to 240V. I had lived in the belief that my computer genius husband had fixed the problem before I left, so it was a shock to have that awful blue screen and the PHYSICAL MEMORY DUMP error message on my very first day of writing. I volleyed off some urgent emails to Brian, but because of the time difference I can't expect to hear from him before tomorrow morning Katoomba time.

I had some moments of despair today. I've come all this way to write a book, and the first thing I encounter is a technical saboteur amid otherwise ideal conditions. This is not a book that's amenable to being written by hand. I did largely write the first book by hand, but that was by choice. This book is very different. A lot depends on the layout of submissions from my contributors, which I have to do on the computer. I DON'T like being held to ransom by a grey box with silicon chips and no heart.

By ten to eight I was showered and dressed and downstairs plugged into the house modem, checking my email and praying. Please, please, PLEASE let there be a message from Brian. But nothing. It's after lunch on Saturday New Mexico time. I know exactly what Brian will be doing right now: preparing for his camping trip in Arizona. But why hasn't he checked his email yet today? To call him I have to walk to town and use a phone card from a public phone box. Not the best circumstances for a computer master to walk a computer toddler through a crucial operation! I opt to wait. I'll check my email again soon. Oh mighty Gods of Writing, have mercy on this wannabe sequel writer and deliver me from computer martyrdom.

Lunchtime Just got back from walking uptown to call Brian. He wasn't at home and his cell phone transfers to voicemail, which probably means he's left for his camping trip. He'll be out of range of the cell tower so he may not get any of my voicemail messages for another 8 - 10 days. At this point I'm feeling extremely disheartened.

Half Hour Later All I can do now is ball my eyes out. It was frustrating and worrisome enough when Word crashed anytime I tried to use the dropdown menus. Now it crashes to the blue screen when I even try to open any Word document.

Brian's camp in Arizona

This is like having double fear of writing. I'm overcome with the compulsion to go seek out the other writers here and cry on their shoulders. Or email writing friends back home to do the same. Read more about the laptop monster.

Monday, Feb 11, 2002 Finally yesterday, just before dinner, I got an email from Brian with clear, step-by-step instructions for how to create a new user. I did exactly what he said, and then logged off as "Milli" and logged on again with the new identity, which I've dubbed "Word." Mr. Word doesn't have any personal settings going for him—he's a very simple bloke—so when I want to do anything that's not in Word I have to log off, then log on as myself. Kind of prehistoric considering this is a fancy laptop, but at least now it won't crash. Thank God I made Brian take my cell phone dial-up equipment or he never would have heard my cries for help way out there in the Arizona desert.

I had breakfast in the dining room with Evelyn Conlon (left), delighting in the fascinating anecdotes that she delivers in her Irish accent. Now I'm upstairs at my desk, drinking Nerada tea and watching the drenching rain. Perfect weather for writing, as the pleasures of outdoors are definitely out of the question. I need to hit my stride today after losing so much time to technical problems. Yesterday afternoon, as a warm-up for areas of the book that I'm feeling less confident about, I booted up Notepad to write seven new Fertile Material exercises & thirteen new Fertile Material Skeletons. It was comforting to get some writing done . . . but the essence of the Fertile Material is fun and I was far from a mood of fun.

But the great thing is, I kept going and got them written. I didn't look for the other writers to tell my woes to. I didn't check my email to see if Brian had sent me a solution to the crashing problem. Even though I felt like my dog had just died, I wrote. I want more of that spirit of forging ahead in my writing life. I remember I had that when I was writing the first book. Hope to rekindle that here at Varuna.

Tuesday, Feb 12, 2002
Yesterday I got started on laying out the book. I put down the working titles for 3 sections, and five chapters within those sections. I began loading material into the five chapters (submissions from workshop participants and members of the writing circles) and also created some original text for two of the chapters. This work led to my needing email contact with several of the contributors, along with permission from an editor to reprint an article I wrote, so I ended my session by sending off a dozen emails related to the book. This morning I heard back from the editor of SouthWest Sage and two of the contributors.

There's a gentle blue sky this morning but its full of soggy racing clouds, so it looks like we'll get more rain. At least it's not gloomy like yesterday.

Last night was fun. We had a glass of red wine with our lovely caterer Sheila Atkinson when she delivered our scrumptious dinner, and then more wine and writers' talk in the dining room before retiring to the comforts of the fire in the library. Evelyn shared her Bailey's Irish Cream (carried all the way from Ireland in her luggage) while the four of us talked books and childhood memories.

The Writing Program Manager, Inez Brewer, (who has just returned from a writers' retreat herself) came in today to replenish our supplies after the weekend. And then Wendy the housekeeper whipped through the house, making everything fresh and clean. I'm very impressed with the friendliness & helpfulness of the people who run Varuna, and with the cosy environment they provide. It's almost too comfortable—perhaps not enough hardships— and the company of the other writers is almost too fascinating. But we all write in our private rooms during the day, and that's what we're here for.

After lunch, Rosalie, Lindsay, and I piled into Dan's red Jeep & he took us to Blackheath to go bushwalking. The day was perfect—it was even hot enough to wear the shorts I'd packed so optimistically when the Internet weather report predicted a high of 51 F in Katoomba. Dan took us to Evan's Lookout, where we did the Grand Canyon walk. We also went down a side track to visit Beauchamp Falls, where we saw a yabbie (like a crayfish) trundling around amid the underwater rocks. The landscape was sublime as we descended from ordinary bush (eucalypts) into the rainforest, and eventually climbed out the other side into the "gum tree" forest again. A challenge to "desk potato" fitness levels (Rosalie & me!).

Rosalie's husband Ian had a humungous bouquet of flowers sent to her for Valentine's day. After our bushwalk, Dan put Lindsay Simpson on the train to Sydney. She's returning to her home state of Tasmania to spend 3 months in a shack finishing her book. Journalist Margaret Simons arrived to take over Lindsay's rooms (Eleanor Dark's own master bedroom/writing garret at the opposite end of the second storey from my rooms) while Rob Milliken moved into the bedroom-cum-workroom vacated by Evelyn, the Ladder Room.

Robert Milliken working on his bio of Lillian Roxon up in the Ladder Room

Saturday, Feb 16, 2002
I walked up town this morning to have breakfast at the Parakeet Cafe. The menu featured British, American, and Australian breakfasts. I had the Aussie breakfast of fried eggs (googs) on toast with grilled tomato and chunky chips, washed down with a cappuccino made the Aussie way (my old favorite) while I listened to Crowded House on the cafe stereo. I cried in the middle of my fried eggs with homesickness for Australia. I want to live here again!

My old hangout, The Parakeet Cafe

As I walked uptown I was just in time to witness a peaceful demonstration coming around the corner into Katoomba St. Free the Refugees March and Rally was in protest of the treatment of refugees from the Middle East (known to Australians on the TV news as " Boat People") at the hands of Australian Prime Minister, John Howard. The protesters blew whistles, waved banners (example: "Howard Do You Want It?") & banged drums, chanting this slogan in unison, over & over: "Say it loud, say it clear, refugees are welcome here." It gave me big goosebumps to see and hear all that warm intention directed at people who are fleeing from countries such as Afghanistan, only to be put in "holding camps" for indefinite periods in Australian detention centers.

Sunday, Feb 17, 2002
Margaret Simons (right) has small children at home, so she's been doing her Varuna retreat in 3-day blocks. Meg lives only two towns up the railway line and has served on the board of Varuna, so she's no stranger to this place. She is currently serving as a mentor in the Local Mentorship Program. Yesterday she emailed her manuscript off to her lawyer and then stayed to have dinner with us before going home to her children. We toasted her milestone with Poet's Corner (white wine) and Coonawarra Estate (red wine).

Author photo courtesy
Margaret Simons

There has been much discussion of arachnophobia during the past week, as Rob the Huntsman Spider (a big bloke) lives in the hallway at the top of the stairs and we all have to pass him to get to our bedrooms and writing rooms. (Incidentally, Rob the Spider was named well before Rob Milliken the Writer arrived for his retreat!) I'm not all that fazed by Rob myself (I know Huntsmans are timid and harmless) but this morning when I opened the window to air out my workroom, I saw a furry body scamper down a branch of the big tree next to my study. It was a rat! Rob Milliken said it could have been a bush rat (and therefore not vermin) but I shut my window in some haste and left it shut!

Monday, Feb 18, 2002
The fog is so thick today you can actually feel it around you inside the house. It's like being in a giant, cool humidifier—quite a pleasure after dry old Taos!

Yesterday Rosalie took me over to Leura in her car. Leura is the village next to Katoomba. I lived in Leura for about a year in 1995. She even drove me to the edge of town to 25 Hester Rd, the little house I once rented. The kind owner allowed me to take photos of the garden. I'm not a gardener (I've got zero knowledge) but you can't help becoming an amateur green thumb in

From Hester Road Rosalie drove us out to Sublime Point Lookout, where we saw the Three Sisters "from behind." The atmosphere was strange . . . kind of a smoky fog. But it was still very beautiful. After the Lookout we went back to Leura Village for cappuccino and cake at Leura Deli. At Megalong Books a few doors down I bought a copy of Rosalie's novel, The Dressmaker, which she signed for me when we got back. It was exciting for me to be back in Leura again, and the outing strengthened the feeling I've been having since I arrived at Varuna . . . a desire to move back to Australia, in particular to the Blue Mountains.

Tuesday, Feb 19, 2002
I'm sitting in front of a cheery, crackling fire in the library of Varuna with Rob, Rosalie, Dan and Louise (a poet newly arrived from Melbourne). Last night we drank tea and had two games of Scrabble, and tonight is the rematch. I'm feeling sad that my stay here is coming to a close. I will miss the friendly and stimulating company of the other writers, and the freedom to work all day on my manuscript with no other responsibilities or distractions (except, that is, the Blue Mtns & the feeling that I should be outside doing more bushwalks).

Wednesday, Feb 20, 2002
Today I did the grunt work for the book that I had been putting off all along. I typed up stories that contributors were unable to submit by email, and also typed up responses from the survey I do at the Fear of Writing Clinic. Then I walked downtown to the coin-op laundrette to do my washing. While my stuff was in the dryer I went to a cafe and worked on my laptop while sipping iced coffee. The iced coffee in Australia is more like a dessert than a drink, and my daughter Bonnie would have scorned me if I had neglected to order it at least once during my trip. Tonight, after yet another delicious Sheila dinner, I retired dutifully to my workroom and made myself good & cranky by working 'til 10 p.m. to finish up the grunt work. So glad I got that %$#@ part done!

After coffee Rosalie kindly drove me to the train station and Dan wheeled my suitcase (the one with the bricks in it) down steps and up ramps to the departure platform. It was a fond farewell with Dan and Rosalie, who are both dear people and loads of fun.

So here I am aboard Qantas Flight 11 with three empty seats to stretch out on. Lucky me! I'll be back in Taos just in time to go on a Friday night date with Brian and I can't wait to see him. As the plane took off and banked over Sydney Harbour, I cried hard as I said goodbye to Australia & the Blue Mountains. Varuna Writers' Center was a wondrous experience. I wanna go back!