Tag: We Will Disappear (page 3 of 5)

Soi3 at the Melbourne Writers Festival

2007_headerlogo.gifThe Melbourne Writers Festival programme is now online and I’m happy to say that there’s a fair bit of poetry this year. While most of the guests seem to be the usual suspects, it’s great to see that js harry will be appearing, although I think I’ll give Clive James and Les Murray a wide berth. Still, it could be worse – Pam Ayres could be on the programme. As it is, I’ll be appearing at the official Soi3 book launch on Saturday August 25! Full details are on the site but as it’s just a sentence or two anyway, here goes:

New poetry imprint soi 3 release three sharp collections of contemporary poetry, with readings from M.T.C Cronin’s Our Life is a Box/Prayers without a God; Barry Hill’s Necessity:Poems 1996-2006; and David Prater’s debut collection We Will Disappear.

Date: 25 August 2007
Time: 3:45pm – 4:45pm
Venue: The Bagging Room
Tickets: FREE EVENT

Did you see that last bit? Yes, it’s a FREE EVENT, just like the launch and performance at the upcoming Queensland Poetry Festival. So there’s really no excuse, is there? Official invitations will be sent out in the next week or two. Rest assured, I’ll also be bombarding your mailboxes, inboxes, Myspace and Facebook accounts, walkie-talkies and ham radio public channels, graffiti walls, mobile phones and also sending telepathic signals to scramble what’s left of your inner voices between now and then. Just over one month to go. Untold!

Interview with Paul Hardacre

This one seemed to slip under the radar at the time, but for the sake of archiving and posterity, I’ve reproduced here an interview Paul Hardacre conducted with me a month ago for papertiger’s TIGER TALK e-newsletter, on the subject of my forthcoming book. By the way, did you know that you can now pre-order a copy of We Will Disappear at papertiger’s secure online store? Untold!

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It’s a Book!

On Monday night I came home from uni half-hoping that a copy of We Will Disappear had arrived in the mail. All that was waiting for me, however, was a statement from my bank telling me how little money I have, and even that was two weeks out of date. I tried to fling the bank statement onto the couch but all I succeeded in doing was launching that flimsy piece of paper into the air, from where it began its long, slow and miserable descent, after which I went into the bathroom to sit on the toilet for a while and seethe.

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