August 31, 2022

Spark extinguished. . . . sort of


Rejection is all part of the writing game. At least it is if one is prepared to put it out into the public sphere in the hope a publisher or editor is impressed enough to print it, and ideally pay the writer for the privilege. That’s the life of a freelance journalist, jobbing writer, or just a hopeful beginner who’s plucked up sufficient nerve to test their lovingly crafted article, story or poem in the court of public opinion. It’s a truth universally acknowledged that every writer serious about their craft eventually decides to take the plunge, and send off their work in hopeful anticipation it will be read, enjoyed and accepted for publication or a competition prize.


I know I was exceptionally fortunate when I finally took this step. My very first foray into testing my writing against that of other hopeful scribblers was a competition. I didn’t win it. I wasn’t even placed, but I did receive an ‘honourable mention’. It was enough to give me the confidence to keep going. My confidence received another boost when I sent off another piece to a small press publishing opportunity, and it was accepted. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of seeing words you’ve written on the pages of a published magazine, journal, or book. It’s a thrill that doesn’t fade with time or more success. At least it hasn’t done for me.


That’s not to say I’ve not had my fair share of rejections. Like I said, they go with the territory. And despite what anyone says to the contrary, they hurt. It’s hard to get your head around the idea that the rejection isn’t of you personally. It’s just that your article, story, poem or whatever, isn’t the right fit for that particular publication, or publisher at that time. It doesn’t mean you’ve written a load of rubbish or that you’ve suddenly lost the ability to write well. I know the advice is often to rewrite the piece and whizz it off somewhere else, and it’s sensible advice but I confess to not always following it.


The background to this blog entry though is because I have just received, not a rejection as such, but confirmation my entry into the Hardie Grant Spark Prize 2022 didn’t make the shortlist. So the book I’m currently working on, and that’s already many thousands of words long, failed to stack up against those few who made it to the top of the pile. How big was the pile? Who knows. Maybe my entry missed out by a whisker, or maybe it didn’t make it past Round One. I will never know. And that’s fine because I shall just keep working on my magnum opus, and keep in my head the lovely affirmation from my friend Shirley, who encouraged me to enter the Spark Prize in the first place. When I emailed her the news she said, ‘You know you can write and this [result] doesn’t change that one iota’.


So best of luck to the chosen few, and to the eventual winner, but for me it’s onwards and upwards.

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Badger the beagle

The secrecy around toxicity testing on animals

By Anne Layton-Bennett • August 4, 2026
An Animals Australia article that highlights the use of toxicity testing of chemicals on animals is still being done around the globe.

Finding a publisher could be getting closer

By Anne Layton-Bennett • July 22, 2026
Attracting the interest of a publisher for this story of a community’s campaign to stop what would have been ‘the world’s fourth largest pulp mill’ being built was never going to be easy, but hoping the first of two 3-minute Literary Speed Dating pitch sessions will prompt at least one of the two publishers to request the full MSS. And preferably both of them. These twice-yearly Perfect Pitch sessions are offered to members of the Australian Society of Authors, and this is the first time I’ve taken advantage of them – mainly because of the need to have a completed MSS before doing so. Three minutes isn’t long to excite the interest of a publisher who is after stories in very specific genres, and who therefore needs to believe your MSS is worth investing the time needed to read it in full. I’m pretty certain I’ve excited the necessary interest, but given Jane will hear the pitches of many more optimistic and talented writers after my morning session today, there are no guarantees. That initial interest might well wane as the day goes on if other writers have written stories that sound far more intriguing – and marketable. One can never forget that aspect of publishing these days: will the book sell. I believe my story will – certainly in Tasmania it definitely will – but a wider Australian readership? That’s an unknown even if my mentor is convinced of the story’s universal appeal.  I’d certainly like to think I’ve caught the zeitgeist wave given the current widespread community unrest over AI data centres, that’s already prompting similar serious opposition, and for many of the same reasons the Tamar Valley’s community opposed the pulp mill. Environmental degradation, threats to public health, water usage – and water shortages in an era of escalating climate extremes – and the constant, relentless noise factor that’s associated with data centres, and AI data centres in particular. I’m crossing my fingers that the second pitch session will be equally positive, and that I could strike it lucky with both publishers requesting to see the full MSS. But I won’t get ahead of myself. I’ll just be keeping all fingers and toes firmly crossed for the next seven days.
Magni

Fiona's gift

By Anne Layton-Bennett • June 14, 2026
It’s taken far too many months for this marvellous model to grace the dedicated desk space in my office. When Fiona comes to visit next she will be very surprised, and hopefully gratified, that her amazing creative talent is finally on display. We’ve known each other for a very long time, and during the insanely busy time when I was helping to run the flower farm, working part-time in a school library, doing a spot of journalism on the side, and fighting the proposed pulp mill that is the subject of the manuscript I’m hoping to get published, Fiona cleaned my house each week. There’s only so much a person can do after all, and it has to be said cleaning our house during those manic years was fairly low down on the list of my priorities. But Fiona is a woman of many talents and she certainly possesses one that I so don’t have: sewing and dressmaking. So over the years she’s also made a few garments based on the pattern of a favourite garment that I was particularly fond of, and she’s also done some clothing alterations for both of us. My skills with needles and thread are limited to sewing on buttons, and taking up hems on John’s too-long pairs of jeans. Anything else is beyond me. But this fabulous model is the pièce de résistance – along with the beautiful crocheted knee warmer she gave me last year. This was when winter was approaching and so determined was I to finish writing the book, I decided to get out of bed at the insane hour of 5am and get in a solid hour’s writing in before dog walking and the demands of the day took over. Fiona was also one of many Tasmanians who needed to be circumspect about her opinion of the pulp mill. It was a project that polarised people, including families and friendships. She was one of several who passed on snippets of useful information, but on the basis of anonymity so it couldn’t be sheeted home to her.  Needless to say Fiona will be one of those whose contribution will be acknowledged – when this book is finally accepted by a publisher.

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