Emma Cameron
I live on the NSW South Coast, delight in standing barefoot on floorboards warmed by sunlight, believe that cooking for others is a privilege and wish humans could grow more than one set of teeth. My favourite childhood haunt was the school library and I later worked in some so I could be home for my two children outside of school time. Once they were older, I worked in other places and it was not until 2005 that I immersed myself into the world of stories again.
I completed courses in Creative Writing, Short Story Writing, Professional Children’s Writing and Professional Editing (even though my favourite school subject was sport) and attended many writing workshops. When my short stories and novels gained places in writing competitions, I started sending to magazines and publishers who published my work. I’m a member of the Australian Society of Authors, The Children’s Book Council of Australia, NSW Writers’ Centre and South Coast Writers’ Centre.
Though I ponder lots without concluding anything, I know I could live happily without chocolate. Yes, really. I know the joy of growing sunflowers alongside blueberries, feel a jolt inside when a bird flies into a windowpane, think dictionaries are beautiful books and hope the sky never falls down. Cinnamon Rain is my first young adult novel.
Previous Publications: Secrets compiled by Stephen Matthews Ginnindera Press, short and scary by black dog books and various works in New South Wales School Magazine.
“It's nice to think that picking uncertain paths may not necessarily alter their destination too drastically, simply the journey undertaken to reach it.”
“Strange, isn't it?" he asks."Where life takes you and how much can change.”
“I'm all alone,fuming at myself,waving a great flagof failure.”
“The true test is wonwhen being togetherwithout saying a wordis everything.”
“i miss my brother likethe sea would miss saltif that were taken away.”
“There're three reasonspeople get away from here:gone good, gone bad orgone dead.”
“Things should have beenso differentto the way they arenow.”
“It's not about blood,"says Lucius. "It's about who you shareyour life with.Where you feelyou really belong.”
“If I let him touch me,it'd be like openinga one-waytelepathic tunnel.”
“Growing up changes morethan playground gamesand body shapes.”
“Stella scribbledin thick black textaacross half the pagesof my best storybook,filled with people who venturedwhere their hearts took them.Beautiful worlds beyond mine.”
“I'm justthe reason they married.Mum saysI was a surprise.Dad saysI was an accident.Truth is ...I am their mistake.”
“Then she smiles, like it'sthe first time she's seen sunafter a decade of winters.”
“I want out of this place.With no reminders."It stings -sulphur tearsin cinnamon rain.”
“I walk the city, through its crush of people and its smells:body odour, rotting food, vomit and urine. A cocktail of oppression and freedom.”
“They scribble on notepads,the sound of their pensscratching the judgemental air.”
“Bongo's sobs are hurled outlike paintballs from a skirmish gununtil the force diminishesinto a trickle of sobsthat wind up the exorcism.”
“Instead,she's as stillas a leaf-littered pond,dark water evaporating,waiting desperately for rain.”
“She's never sure,never knows,never goes.”
“One more year and I will be closer to wherever I'm going.”
“The telly is invadedby hallelujah channelsand informercials,both trying to selleverything neededto save you.”