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Newsletter - May 2024

Introduction

Welcome to my May newsletter. Whether you are a regular subscriber, or this is your first newsletter, I do hope that you find a moment over the next month to make yourself a cuppa, sit in your favourite spot and enjoy this month’s edition with a focus on connections, community, and friendship.

The Gold Coast Writers Association invited Brisbane Scribes to run a writing workshop in April. We were delighted to be given the opportunity to share some of our writing wisdom. And what a friendly, enthusiastic group of writers they are. 

We were asked to present our workshop, Winning Short Story Competitions. In 2023, Brisbane Scribes were invited to judge The Sydney Hammond Short Story Competition and it was such an invaluable experience to see things from the other side. Jane Connolly, former children’s book council judge, drew up a template that we all used to narrow the stories down to a long list and then we set about choosing the short list and winners.

We were all in agreement about eliminating stories that had technical errors or did not meet the story prompt, but choosing the short list proved challenging with heated discussion and disagreements. It is inevitable that subjectivity plays a role in choosing a winner, but you can give your submission the best chance by following the guidelines, ensuring you use correct spelling and punctuation and most importantly, by using the prompt provided. You don’t want your submission to stand out for the wrong reasons! And for more about this, head to my newsletter archive and read about aiming high in my March 2024 edition.

And if you really want to polish your writing, get yourself a copy of the gem Winning Short Story Competitions which has been instrumental in my own stories regularly listing in competitions.

I will leave you with a photograph of our day on the Gold Coast, featuring Christine Betts (far left) who organised the event, Kellie Cox (far right) who has already written two of the fifty-two stories she plans to write after I suggested writing a story a week, and the Brisbane Scribes - Jenny Adams, Jane Connolly and me

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And in case you missed the April edition of my newsletter, my novel The Truth About my Daughter, is now available for pre order. And if you happen to be in Brisbane, I will have a launch on 14 September at Avid Reader. There is no charge but you do need to book as spots are limited. I really hope to see you there. And I am so thrilled with the cover. It captures the essence of my story so perfectly without giving anything away. I will leave you with the words of Kelly Rigby, editor of award-winning novels and writing coach.

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The Truth About My Daughter is a breathtaking story of the enduring power of love in the face of loss, regret, broken dreams, and life-changing secrets. Jo Skinner’s evocative prose and bittersweet portrayal of Fin and her tangled family will capture your heart and stay with you beyond the last page.


Running

In earlier newsletters, I wrote about my personal challenge to run sixty marathons. I completed my sixtieth marathon in November 2023. After the devastating results of the Voice referendum, I decided to run The Indigenous Marathon Foundation’s November challenge. My vote in the ballot was not enough to get the yes vote over the line so I chose instead to voice my opinion with my feet, running 42.2K on Turrbal and Jagera land.

This year, I wanted to give my body a break and while I continue to run regularly, I am now more contemplative in my runs, absorbing the environment through my five senses. Now I focus on my posture and my breathing and allow my feet to find their own happy running pace.

The real beauty of running without a looming event and strict schedule is that I stop and chat to people instead of flying past waving and smiling.

This morning, I stopped to pat a brown Cavoodle I have seen walking along my river loop. Roxy was thrilled to have her ears scratched and meanwhile I got to know her owner who just happens to be a physio. We shared running tales, stretching advice, and discussed bone density and menopause. And when I ran home, my feet were just skimming the pavement. It gave me such a lift to have such an interesting chat and to find a new physio who works from home and shares my interest in menopausal women’s bone and muscle health.

I recently added a short loop to one of my runs which includes fabulous views of the iconic Story Bridge. The first time I ran this detour, an elderly fellow stopped to tell me about all the plants growing along the river. And he had a camera with the biggest lens I have ever seen to photograph all the plants he finds. A woman does her Tai Chi here some mornings and there is an enthusiastic Border Collie who takes his owner for a walk regularly. I get to enjoy so many interactions and hear stories that really brighten my day and remind me that contrary to the horrors we see on news feeds, most humans are just lovely. Even thinking about my morning interactions gives me a warm, happy feeling.

The beauty of walking or running is that you see the community where you live up close and personal. You get to know the streets where the good bakeries, new cafes or wine bars are, you get to meet the people who live alongside you. In the last months, a new coffee shop has opened next door to my hairdresser and there is a new boutique bakery a kilometre down the road. When you explore your local community on your feet, you really become a part of it. If there was one positive from those pandemic lockdowns, it is that many people started walking and running regularly and meeting their neighbours. These connections are vital to wellbeing. In fact, human connections are as important to health and wellbeing as good nutrition and exercise with research suggesting that the psychological and physical benefits are so great, they can outweigh other harmful risk factors and improve life expectancy.

I encourage you to get out there. Say hi when you pass someone and smile. Human connection is a beautiful thing and something to nurture.


Writing

When I start reading a new book, I turn to the acknowledgements first. It reminds me that the published book I am holding has its own history. The story behind the story. By the time a reader gets to immerse themselves in the world between the covers, the volume of work and people involved getting the book to that stage is often as fascinating as the book itself.

The list of thankyous in the acknowledgments gives me a glimpse into the many people who shaped the book I am about to read. At every stage of a book, from initial idea to final proofread and marketing, there are the backstage crew, helping to bring the work to fruition. No matter how successful or famous the author, they have struggled and needed the support of family, friends, beta readers, editors, mentors, and other writers. It always encourages me and lifts my spirits to look at the network of people who were instrumental in helping the author get their book over the line.

I have had to write my own acknowledgements recently and I know they are woefully inadequate. It takes a village to raise a child and several to bring a book into the world. Every book starts with an idea, a prompt or nebulous thought without shape or form. It might be taken from the writer’s experience, an overheard conversation, a line from a movie or comment made at a family dinner. The idea starts to take shape over weeks or even years until the urge to put it into words prompts the writer to start the long process of creating a book.

My book, The Truth about My Daughter, grew from some of my own experiences but it was an Instagram post that was the lightbulb moment for me. Someone asked followers to post their worst Christmas experience and one of the replies just set a ball rolling in my mind, gathering all those earlier vague thoughts into an idea that later became my book. After the pandemic gripped the world, my initial lack-lustre story was rewritten incorporating some of the experiences of that surreal period. It was only then, a few years later, the scaffolding for my book became a solid, tangible thing.

I sent the earliest outline of the book to my first writing mentor, Kelly Rigby who gave me positive feedback that I have kept in a folder. It was the encouragement I needed to keep going. I wrote two other novels after I completed the early drafts. One of those novels, A World of Silence, longlisted in the Hawkeye Manuscript Development award but I turned back to the first story, knowing it was the one that I wanted to tell. With support from beta readers, a manuscript assessment with Lauren Elise Daniels from Brisbane Writers Workshop, feedback from a writerly friend and the endless patience of hubby and my three children, the novel improved. It became sharper, cleaner and the characters took on a life of their own. I lost count of the number of people who encouraged me, supported me, and played some role in getting my book to a publishable stage.

And the need for support didn’t stop once I had a publishing contract. My daughter used her artistic skills to help me create a mood board when it came to designing a cover. Her creation led to Natalie Chen at Hawkeye books designing the beautiful cover that is now the face of my novel. I then had to reach out to other writers to get endorsements for my novel, one of the hardest things I was required to do but also one of the most rewarding. Author, Cass Moriarty even inspired me to have BrisLitMafia badges made to give out to local authors when she welcomed me to the Brisbane writing tribe. Now that I have a launch date, I am reaching out to friends, colleagues, and other writers to really bring my book to life. A book only happens once it is read and enjoyed by others and so the acknowledgements continue, this time to thank my readership.

In preparation for the launch of my novel, I signed up to do the excellent course Nailing Author Interviews, by Claudine Tinellis. The take home message, that a writer needs to be a good literary citizen, really resonated with me. This starts not when you have a publishing contract but in the years that precede it. Attend festivals, book launches and join a book club or writers group and listen to podcasts like Claudine Tinellis’ excellent Talking Aussie Books.  Become an active member of the writing/reading community.

Do enrol in this excellent course even if you are not about to launch your book. The authors Claudine interviews are so generous with their own processes. The prompts that led to an idea becoming a novel, their research, the support provided by their networks. And she interviews so many of the writers who inspire me. Sandie Docker, Holly Ringland and Cassie Hamer to name a few. There were so many aha moments, some laugh out loud anecdotes and the recognition that getting a book published is a hard slog requiring input from many people along the way.

Writing can feel isolating, but if you want your words to shine, you need to reach out to your support networks. The writers whose books you love to read, the aspiring writers who are doing the same courses as you, your beta readers, your writing group. Every book is a collective effort, a summation of feedback and ideas from multiple sources. And you know your book baby is truly in the world when you read a beautiful endorsement or review by a reader.

Never forget that as a writer you are not alone. You are part of a community. Become a good literary citizen and enjoy the benefits of belonging to a tribe. It will give your book the best chance of doing well when it is finally released into the world.


GP wisdom

At last year’s Byron Bay Writers Festival (this festival just keeps on giving throughout the year), the final session I attended was called The Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness. And if you weren’t lucky enough attend this session at  Byron Bay, tune in to the TED talk by Robert Waldinger, Professor of Psychiatry at Harvard Medical School.

Waldinger shared some of the fascinating findings of what really makes people happy. It won’t surprise you that it is not money, or prestige or power, all the things we know don’t add to our happiness despite the prodigious energy we expend collectively to attain them. I left that talk full of ideas and promises to myself and yet, still have difficulty with even the most straightforward of his suggestions.

It should not be a surprise that happiness is the result of our connections to other people. Not just our close circle of friends but the brief contacts we have during the day. The hello and smile shared with the barista who makes your morning coffee, the thank you to the fellow commuter who shuffles along to make room for you on the train. With most of us buried in our phones the minute we are not occupied, we miss countless opportunities for these small but significant connections.

I recently read a delightful book Ikigai – The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life by Hector Garcia and Francesc Miralles. The authors had read each other’s work and met up in Tokyo to discuss the concept of logotherapy, a psychological concept developed by Viktor Frankl – that the individual’s purpose is to find meaning in life. They spoke about the Japanese equivalent, Ikigai which translates as ‘the happiness of always being busy.’ I’ll be quite honest, I did not find this idea of being busy very attractive to begin with, but when the authors went on to study the reasons there are so many centenarians living active, healthy lives in Okinawa in Japan, it became clear that busy does not mean a life filled with tasks that don’t bring joy. I will write more about this in the next newsletter, or you could purchase this fascinating little book yourself.

One of the secrets to the longevity of the Okinawa residents is being part of a tightknit community. There is a word, moai, which means connected for life. A moai is an informal group of people who share the good times and bad and regularly meet up for social occasions and celebrations. They all contribute financially each month, and this goes towards funding these gatherings where they eat together, enjoy festivals and celebrations, or play games like chess. Even better, if one of their members is experiencing tough times, they receive money from this pooled fund. This security and sense of friendship and belonging is as integral to their longevity as their healthy lifestyles.

Research shows that social isolation significantly increases the risk of premature death and is greater than the risks of smoking, obesity, and lack of exercise. Lack of social connection is associated with a 29% increased risk of heart disease and a 32% risk of stroke. (see citation below).

Waldinger made two suggestions. The first was to think of a friend you hadn’t contacted for a long time and to send them a text just asking how they were and then following this up by connecting with them by phone regularly – once a fortnight or even once a month. The second was to sit next to someone next time you commute. Say hello and follow up with a smile.

Waldinger advised that people who connected regularly with friends or said hi to a stranger reported greater levels of happiness when surveyed. It does seem that the more connected we are electronically, the more disconnected we become socially. With the statistics for social isolation so dire, perhaps it is time to put our phones down, to smile more, say hi more and to regularly meet up with our tribe.

National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine. 2020. Social Isolation and Loneliness in Older Adults: Opportunities for the Health Care System. Washington, DC: The National Academies Press. https://doi.org/10.17226/25663.

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 Copyright Michael Leunig


The yearning to belong is one of the most powerful motivators. In order to survive, we must belong to a group.

Steve Hayes


Book Reviews

I always include at least one book review in my newsletter and this month I have chosen two books including a children’s book Aisling and Amelia recently published by fellow Hawkeye author, Eileen O’Hely. This one is for little girls or boys who love to dance but is also an empowering story about friendship and acceptance. It really felt on theme for my newsletter this month and made me smile. I do encourage you to purchase a copy for any young children you might know.

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This delightful children's book will appeal to little girls who aspire to dance and to mothers who once dreamt of becoming ballerinas. It celebrates the joy that children find in everything - chocolate, ladybirds, hopscotch and of course dancing. And this enthusiasm for dance is not just restricted to dance classes as Aisling pirouettes through life. This story celebrates more than the joy of dancing. At its heart, it is about friendship and embracing difference. It is a reminder to parents fortunate enough to read this story out loud, that underneath we are in fact all the same and long to be loved and accepted just the way we are.
The perfect antidote to staid adulthood. And an invitation to start dancing through life.


Tidelines by Sarah Sasson

I recently attended a book event at Avid reader where award-winning author Al Campbell interviewed immunologist and author Sarah Sasson about her debut novel, Tidelines. It is a tender and moving story about loss and resilience and explores the powerful themes of friendly sibling rivalry, teenage friendships, and parental ambition. The story is told by younger sister, Grub who searches her memories of a privileged childhood to understand how her talented and successful brother, Elijah, lost his way. It is also about forgiveness and learning to love again after devastating loss. 

It is a beautiful, lyrical book, ensnaring the reader through all the senses. I found myself tasting the salty sea air, hearing the creaks and sighs of the house Grub and Elijah grew up in while the vibration of cello music echoed along the floorboards. I smelt seaweed, walked with Grub down dank streets, and felt her regret and hope as she attempted to identify at what point things unravelled.

Sarah is an award-winning poet, and this is evident in her ability to use words sparingly and with maximum impact. The tight and often short scenes weave together the past and present, creating an immersive story about longing and the challenge of searching our memories for the moment the trajectory of our lives changed irreversibly.

This work has a slow crescendo that creeps up on you, gets under your skin and leaves lingering questions about whether the outcomes of our lives would be different if we could reach back and rearrange a moment in time. I often had to put the book down and absorb the richness of Sarah’s prose, to really appreciate the complex relationships between the characters and whether one or all of them contributed to their devastating loss.

This eloquent book lingers in the imagination long after you put it down.


My Writing

During the COVID pandemic, I wrote a heartfelt piece about human connection and how the policies put in place to protect us also had the effect of isolating many of our most vulnerable patients. The lockdowns were a necessary intervention but one with impacts that have continued long after we returned to business as usual.

This piece was published in The Big Issue, edition 646, 01 Oct 2020. I was very proud to be in the same edition as The Wiggles. And the lovely yellow Wiggle Emma, my family’s favourite, was front and centre on the cover. 

I hope you enjoy this essay about how critical human connection is to our wellbeing and that it motivates you to check in with your elderly neighbour or isolated relative. It may just save their lives.


A Touch of Humanity

On Monday, I go on one of my regular home visits to a woman in her fifties. She is palliative now and too anxious to attend appointments at the surgery. Her anxiety in this pandemic era is well placed. She is all jutting bones, hollow cavities, and tissue paper skin. She needs more pain medications. It is something I could arrange over the phone, but she wants to see me.

            We sit side by side on her front veranda. The light and shade dapple through the leaves, the hum of traffic is soft in the distance, a magpie warbles noisy on the fence. I measure her blood pressure, even though the numbers are unimportant now. It gives me a reason to touch her. She has in the past been aloof, reserved. I keep my hand on hers and her pulse rate slows. She was never one for conversation but now that her time is measured and finite she wants to share, so I stay longer and listen.

            An hour passes. I glimpse the cigarettes hidden under the cushion and want to reassure her that it is okay but instead just pretend I don’t see them. I realise I have not let go of her hand and give it a squeeze. She never married, has no children. She asks when I will come again.          

            One impact of the pandemic has been the drop in human connectedness. Not the screen interactions that have flourished with social distancing, but real skin to skin contact. Hugs, a held hand, the sharing of physical touch to communicate love and reassurance. While I support the measures used to limit the spread of the virus, this separation from others has lasting impacts on mental health, physical wellbeing, and even immune function.

            Our tactile sensory systems develop very early in utero. We spend the first months of our lives in constant reassuring contact with our mothers. This hunger for connection continues throughout our lives.

            Skin contact stimulates an incredible array of receptors capable of interpreting gradations of touch ranging from pain, itch, temperature, to the brush of a gentle caress, the pressure of a threatening grip. Depending on the information fed to our brain we then experience the thrill of love, fear of hurt, singe of heat, gooseflesh of cold or soothing warmth of reassurance.

            Positive touch stimulates our vagal nervous system which leads to a drop in blood pressure, a reduction in heart rate. Regular healthy skin stimulation results in reduced production of cortisol and a rise in serotonin, improves mood, reduces pain, and has a positive impact on wellbeing.        

            Later, I do another regular visit to a ninety-five-year-old woman. A former model, she always demanded a hug before her consultations. She is now confined in a nursing home, her cognitive function in steep decline. She still sports a pink streak in her hair, applies a slash of lipstick, and wears a string of pearls. During the lockdown, her daughters were not allowed to visit. A wise nurse gave her a doll. She strokes dolly’s hair, holds her close. It has settled her loud agitation, improved her sleep without medications. Dolly has answered that primal need to express love through physical contact, even when it is not reciprocated.

            I sit down and hold her knotted fingers. She babbles and smiles, reaches out for a one-armed hug, her tactile memory left unscathed by Alzheimer’s. Dolly stays firmly tucked under her other arm. Dementia Support Australia explains that therapy dolls can provide sensory experiences that bring a sense of comfort and security.

            Since lockdown, the shape of my daily work in general practice has changed. We no longer see anyone with respiratory symptoms or fevers inside the surgery, but down in the carpark wearing full PPE. This means that patients presenting to the rooms are unlikely to be positive for SARS CoV2, providing a safe bubble where we can touch patients without the barrier of protective gear.

            On one memorable day, I saw one of my regulars, a woman who lives alone and struggles with a long history of severe anxiety and depression. After a long absence, she presented, head bowed.  She whispered, ‘I know it’s not allowed, but can I give you a hug?’

            She held on to me so long, I thought she might never let go. I was the first person she had touched in seven months. With her permission, I contacted some of her friends and family to ensure she had regular contact with another human being.

            A distressing aspect of the pandemic has been watching people dying alone, seeing elderly isolated in an aged care facility unable to see family or friends. We must be careful that with our strenuous efforts to stop transmission, we create safe ways to be present for our loved ones when they need it most.  Touch is fundamental to our humanity. There is a reason that the photograph of eighty-five-year-old Rosa being hugged for the first time in five months won photograph of the year. That evocative embrace responds to our inbuilt desire for inclusion, love, empathy, and reassurance, particularly while in the grip of a pandemic.​

             The following Monday, I ring my palliative lady, give her an opportunity to hide her cigarettes. I settle beside her, check her pulse, keep my hand on hers, determined her final weeks will not be spent untouched and alone.

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