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by Gabrielle Blondell Please Mum, I know you’re busy, but I want you to meet my fiancé. The Crab House, 7:30pm. Joanna Elise stared at her phone, eyeing it warily and waiting, as if something else might issue from it. Her personal assistant strode into the room, cradling the day’s agenda. “The presentation starts in two minutes,” Bronwyn said. Bronwyn was like herself. She didn’t round things up or down. She was precise. Two minutes was two minutes. Elise slipped her phone into her pocket. “Right then, let’s go.” ~ Michael Bruin was deconstructing the team’s ad campaign with the aid of his laser pointerRead More →

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by Gabrielle Blondell Max was running the blade of the trimmer along the top of a hedge when the removal van came to a wheezy standstill in front of the house next door. He stood on his toes, still trimming away, but squinting through his safety glasses. Bruich Removals, it said, white lettering on black across the side of the van. A dark grey, sporty sedan came next and a man emerged from it. He strode up the path of the neighbouring house to the front door, jostling in his pocket and extracting a bunch of keys. “Sorry lads,” he called to the two brick-shapedRead More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell I see everything and by this I mean I see too much. I’ll give you an example. Right now, my work colleague, Jonah, is walking down the hall and I know, at the very last minute, he will veer toward me and perform one of two actions. A) He will try out a joke on me; one that he may or may not be put to work later on people he actually wants to impress, or B) he will angle his hips in my direction and practice one of his pick-up lines, like ‘How’s it going sweetie?’ I have started to lookRead More →

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In: Stories, Uncategorized

By Gabrielle Blondell Alapai watches the young people enter. It is his first sight of them and he is careful with it. He makes sure to notice the one who holds the shoulders curved forward and defeated. He looks too for the one who holds them high to the ears, defensive. He knows on sight who is dating whom by the way they move together.   They sit as if their race chooses for them. Tongan with Tongan. Maori with Maori. White with white. Samoan with Samoan. Somali with Somali. “Good morning, students,” Alapai says. “Please settle yourselves.” He takes a whiteboard marker and writes inRead More →

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In: Creativity, Stories

The origin of a story can be difficult for fiction writers to place. It’s not because we writers are overly secretive. The process in itself is a mysterious one. Big stories take a lot of working out. There’s multiple characters and plot lines. Novels are a process, but short stories are different. They can suddenly appear and when they do, it’s like love at first sight. Seconds before we didn’t know of them and then we writers are involved and not just involved….we are committed. Sometimes the story tells itself. Sometimes it’s character first. A lot of the time, for me at least, its voice.Read More →

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In: Human Nature, Stories, Writing

Imagine laying beside a pool in Maui, enduring a conversation between an aggressively lazy boyfriend telling his partner that if he had booked their holiday, there would have been no confusion over their zip-line adventure tickets. “There would be one point of contact, if I’d organised it,” he says, stretched out on his pool chair, while his girlfriend’s phone trills and she attempts to explain the mix up again to perhaps her tenth point of contact. “You’ve got a big ass,” he decides, when she sits down again.  At this point my partner goes to the bar for a drink because I don’t think he can bearRead More →

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In: Human Nature, Reading, Science, Stories, Writing

It’s a tough question and if you are not feeling on top of your game, its a hand grenade.  Still, its the beginning of the year and in the spirit of continuing on with some kind of rationale, I have been attempting to answer this question for myself, but the more I have tried to answer it the more I found reasons not to do it. Reasons Not to Let’s face it!  It’s not an essential industry – well not like brain or heart surgery – not really. It’s not like farming.  Those indefatigable people who toil day in and day out to bring food to the table.Read More →

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In: Human Nature, Science, Stories

We all tell stories.  We can’t seem to help it.  We are known in some circles as the ‘storytelling animal’.  We tell them around water coolers, over dinner tables, in coffee shops and we read stories in newspapers, magazines and in books.  I wonder if its curiosity which makes us do this or is it a way for us to get our big brains around what our senses are telling us? In our minds, our own lives are stories. Narrative therapy would have it that our identities are shaped by the stories we tell of our own lives.   Neuroscientist, Antonio Damasio, talks of story as integral toRead More →