To call this section 'Pulp Faction' is me being droll, witty and clever, or in a normal person's perception, being a total twat. What it actually consists of is work I am incredibly proud of.
As someone who ghostwrites for quite a bit of my professional time, it can sometimes be a little bit on the lip-biting side when my well-turned phrases appear to national and international acclaim... but obviously not under my own name.
The majority of the time, like most writers, I prefer being in the background. Ghostwriting therefore is a wonderful way to get my thoughts out into the world, without having to face the world! But also, like most writers, I relish the chance to meet and interview fascinating, brilliant, witty, challenging, innovative, intelligent, disruptive, and creative individuals - especially other writers. To be able to do that, and publish these encounters under my own name - well, that's an enormous gift. As is the opportunity to give the biggest thoughts I am thinking some space out in the real world, rather than having my brain explode all over the keyboard in a big mess of 'coulda, shoulda, wouldas'.
So here are some of the favourites from the online magazine that I was fortunate enough, for three years, to be the Managing Editor of - GLOSS, alongside my columns from the Huffington Post, NewsCorp's virtual pages, and some other odds and sods which are managing to creep in.
These interview subjects, and these subjects of interview, are definitely more than 'pulp' faction. The former are astonishing in their generosity of time and intellect; much like the sentiment reflected in another section of this site, I am grateful every day that they allowed me into their lives - if only for a brief snapshot in time. The latter; I suppose time will tell if I am rational in my ranting, or just #ranting. But thank you to all those who have made what I write worthwhile by reading it.
I sometimes think of depression as similar to that mythical bogeyman we faced as children. Whether it hides under the bed or in the closet, or sits astride our chest, for some of us the monster in our mind grows in adulthood to become an ogre of menacing proportions.
The following was syndicated from Medium for The Fatherly Forum , a community of parents and influencers with insights about work, family, and life. If you'd like to join the Forum, drop us a line at [email protected] . Sunday just gone, September 4, was Father's Day here in Australia.
TODAY is World Parkinson's Day. This is a pretty big day for me, because I have Young Onset Parkinson's. I am unfortunately part of a fairly hefty statistic, because 32 Australians are diagnosed every day with the disease. It has no cure. 70,000 Australians currently live with it.
IT'S Perth, WA, in the early 70s. All you think about is playing the drums, maybe being a writer of some sort, and essentially being a bit of a larrikin. Little do you realise one day you will be staring down the barrel of four best-selling novels, a potential international movie deal, and yes, the barrel of a rifle.
AS YOU tuck into that sausage sizzle down at the beach and pump up the volume on the Hottest 100, take a good look around you - by the end of today three women in Australia will be hospitalised as a result of domestic violence.
Posted: I grew up in the 1970s. I say this not to engender comments from those younger and smarter than myself of 'wow, you're really old' and 'was the iPhone 5 out then?', but rather to point out how much things have changed when it comes to women in sport, and the way we perceive them.
Let me say that a little differently. I am a proud survivor of rape. I am a proud survivor of a rape that occurred at 18, when I was an educated, 'nice' girl, who had very little understanding of just how scary some men could be.
AS WE creep closer to December 31 the planet seems to be saying, "Thank The Force, 2015 is almost over". It's been a vastly unhappy year.
Posted: I am not even going to pretend how much the outcome of Monday night's leadership spill between Tony Abbott and the newly crowned (or should that be anointed?) Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull meant to me. I was ecstatic.
MY best friend, one of the mainstays of my existence, one of the strongest, funniest, silliest people I know, is gay. She has an amazing partner. They have a baby boy. He is beautiful.
Why? Good question. Do I consider myself a mental health expert? No. Do I have a degree in psychology, or psychiatry, or medicine, or neuroscience perhaps? Nope. What I have is a disease, and it's an incredibly frustrating, infuriating, and weird disease.
Posted: On November 4, Justin Trudeau, son of Canada's perhaps best-known Prime Minister -- to date at least -- Pierre Trudeau, was sworn in as the 23rd Canadian leader. Much like his father, he is already inspiring an age of 'Trudeaumania'; lauded by the majority of Canadians for his intelligence, his sense of social justice, and his abhorrence of the conservative, 'cynical' witch-hunting approach to governance of his predecessor Stephen Harper.
I have been physically and emotionally hurt by someone I knew and trusted within the confines of a relationship. In the words of the Paul Kelly song, I never understood 'what made such a sweet guy turn so mean', and I stuck around for a long time as a consequence.