Armidale Library Author Talk
Author Talk at Armidale Library
It was such a wonderful day doing the Author Talk at the Armidale library yesterday. It was my second event where I have actually had a Sawmillers Daughter attend who had already read the book and it had resonated with her. That's one of the most satisfying things as an author when your book resonates with people.
I also had my first encounter with someone that wanted to turn my author talk into a political/environmental discussion and where I respect other people's views and opinions, there is a time and place, and I just reiterated that my book is fictional, however it highlights the historical value of the sawmilling/timber industry and that is what resonates with so many people.
It's been amazing to hear from other people their shared experiences with a sawmill and be able to listen to their history is what I love.
I did the sentence Challenge with the attendees yesterday and again I love the challenge of making a short story out of these sentences, it intrigues me when I read them and I have to say I also get a chuckle out of some of them.
Another great event and it was so great to meet and hear such wonderful history from people.
Armidale Sentence Challenge Story
She had only been in Armidale for three weeks, and now the distraction of moving into a new home and navigating a new town was over.
The reality of her isolation and loneliness was revealing themselves to her, especially in the mornings.
She had been lost in thought recently, as time seemed to stand still, her thoughts had been reliving her life at the sawmill and the time spent with her family. They were good old days, much simpler than they were today.
Even down to what food to eat, she hadn’t yet found somewhere nice to eat in town and frankly her appetite had not been what it was, she thought about the time as a child they caught a hare, it was fat, sluggish and dirty, her brother and her had chased it over the paddock for hours and finally caught it.
They took it back to their mother who skinned it, the sight of a hare with no skin was terrifying as a child, but it was something they just got used to, their mother had cooked it in the big old pot over the stove and God it was delicious.
She thought about how much work her mother did when they were children, working endlessly and tirelessly and she never complained.
Times were different now, her husband had been of a different opinion,
“Over my dead body, no wife of mine is going to work” He used to say to her.
She had always wanted to work, to get out and build a career, but life had not transpired that way and now all the children had grown up and left and again she was reminded of the emptiness she now felt.
She had decided that things would be different now, a new town a new start, she could reinvent herself if she chose to, but where to start.
Maybe she should go to the library today and get on the internet to see what jobs were available in town for someone her age, her internet had not been connected yet and Telstra had said it could take up to a week.
She decided to walk there today from her new home, the streets were wide and the architecture of the buildings were magnificent, she couldn’t help but think what a fantastic spring day.
She liked walking, and the library was close, everything was close, that is why she had picked that house.
She walked into the library, and was surprised at how many people were already there, people were seated at tables reading, sitting in lounges and in cubicles on computers, it was a hive of activity.
She walked up to the customer service desk; people were checking books in and out.
I could work in a library, she thought, looking around.
“May I help you?” asked the lady behind the desk, and she thought for a moment,
How could she help her? What did she actually need, she had forgotten.
The lady asked again this time looking past her at the line of people who had lined up behind her,
“Ma’am how may I help you?” she said again, though this time a bit more abrupt,
“Ah yes, I just moved here and I just wanted to get on the internet and maybe ask what kind of groups are available in town” she told the lady behind the desk,
“You’ll need to fill this out,” she said pushing a sheet of paper at me, abruptness was her middle name for sure.
She took the sheet of paper and walked away, she noticed there was a gathering of ladies in a meeting room upstairs, maybe she’d just go and sit and listen to whatever was going on.
She took a seat towards the back; it was an author talk and the book on display read The Sawmillers Daughter.
Maybe that was a sign, as she herself was once a Sawmillers Daughter, she looked around, the people that were here all looked genuinely interested, a man sat to the left of me and started to speak,
“10,000 years of trees are felled across a continent by machines in only minutes” he said, and everyone had a blank look on their face.
She looked towards the author who was nodding her head, the author made it clear her book was neither political nor environmental, it was a historical fiction novel that highlighted the lives of a sawmill family.
The man spoke again, and it was evident that he lived to turn today into his own political agenda.
After the presentation she brought a copy of the book and walked home, forgetting to hand in the library form.
She made herself a cuppa and sat out in the sunshine for the afternoon reading. Tomorrow was a new day and she would start again, as she had all the time in the world.
authorsarahsmith@outlook.com
www.sawmillersdaughter.com.au
Comments