The Auckland Writers and Readers Festival kicks off tomorrow. I have spent the equivalent of a small Third World country's debt buying tickets to the various workshops, author talks and seminars on offer. I can't wait. They're a funny lot, W & R Festival-Goers. It's worth the admission price just to sit outside the various…
My daughter’s bedside, 3am
Mothers Day (tomorrow in New Zealand) is always special to me. I am so proud to be a mother, and so very grateful. I wrote this poem today. My daughter's bedside, 3am You are far away, somewhere mothers cannot follow. But I am near; so near your breath is my blanket. It won’t be long until the…
My New Philosophy
Note: You might want to listen to P!nk's "Raise Your Glass" while reading this. It'll get you in a suitably rebellious mood. I have been listening to a lot of well-intentioned writing advice lately. The voices have been telling me how I should be writing, when and for how long. They've been telling me I'll…
The Gift of Poetry
I love getting presents, especially when they are precisely what I want at that moment in time. But if I could only get one more present for the rest of my life, it would be this: a poem written exclusively for me, by one of the poets I truly love. I would want to meet…
The Writer in print
It's quite something to see yourself in print. This story was published in the April 2013 issue of Takahē, a New Zealand literary magazine. I received my copy in my letterbox today. I have posted the story previously, but for the sake of ease, here it is for those who haven't read it before. The Writer The Devil…
My Wee Winning Story
My, that's a large one. I refer to the photo of my face that jumped out and slapped me as I opened the April issue of Reader's Digest (New Zealand edition). With the issue finally out today, I can announce that out of thousands of entries I am one of two runners-up in the NZ Readers…
After the party
As our bodies collide and we miss each other, I start thinking of all the times we have touched but not touched. I open my mouth to tell you this then shut it again without saying a word. Our bodies part and we tuck and fold, packaging ourselves up again, gifting ourselves once more to everything…
The Hurty Bottom and other stories
The most gorgeous 5-yr-old in the universe (aka my daughter, Miss B.) was awarded a certificate at her school assembly this morning. The certificate read: "For writing some awesome stories so far this year. You are trying so hard with your writing!" Miss B. is turning into quite a storyteller. Every morning after mat time the…
The Duck Huggle
OMG, my daughter (Miss B.) has beaten me to it. She's written a book. And it's good. Gripping, even. She disappeared to her writing corner the other day with paper, a pen and a determined look. More than an hour later she emerged, ink stains on her fingers and that slightly wild look on her face that…
The Singing Scribe
I was on stage recently, belting out a parody of Bohemian Rhapsody with a group of fellow musical theatre-ites (fortunately it was a paid gig, which made it bearable), and it got me thinking about music and writing and the ways in which we humans express ourselves. I'm a trained singer and I've been involved in musical…
Patricia Bell, Author 