Seasons Greetings and Site Update

There in the blink of an eye goes 2018.

Let’s not even mention the fact we’ve only one more year left until another decade is over. Far out, where does time go? In regards to writing, after such a big 2017, this year has been a little quieter. I’ve been hampered by time restraints and also wanting to make sure I’m producing quality as well. Which brings me to the next point – after posting to this site every month for five years, I’m going to take a bit of a break moving into 2019. Not too sure at this stage when the next post will be, but when there’s something to say, you’ll hear me. I want to ensure the people who read my posts are getting quality, and at the moment I don’t have a lot to say. Needless to say I am still writing, and there will be new content in the future – when though? No idea.

The plan is to run my free book promotions for Tenebrae Manor and The Will of the Wisp from time to time, and should take this moment to remind you of A Boy Named Art which is also available on Amazon. So if you’re in the hunt for a good Christmas present, do check out my books!

Once more I read a stack of books this year, once more some good, some not so good, some SO good that make it to the metaphorical favourites shelf to be revisited for years to come.

  • My Name is Red (Orhan Pamuk) – a dreamy fable set in ancient Istanbul; part art history, part murder mystery. A long book but well worth the read.
  • Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (Robert M. Pirsig) – a quasi-biography/self-help novel that weaved many great life tips with a heartwarming father-son holiday.
  • The Hollow Men (T.S. Eliot) – A bleak and evocative poem that still haunts me; Eliot’s poetry is unparalleled.
  • Waiting for Godot (Samuel Beckett) – some call this play boring. Those people are so wrong. This is a wonderfully funny work that I absolutely adore. Never has a story about nothing proven so interesting.
  • Nightwood (Djuna Barnes) – dense, poetic prose; a melancholic tone; characters troubled by their flaws – Nightwood is a masterpiece. Read it read it read it. I implore you.

All said and done 2018 has been a pretty good one for me – I turned 30 and got rather introspective about life, etc. I welcomed a new nephew into the family, and got to enjoy the wonders of watching a my crazy little toddler son grow bigger every day (he’s just turned 2…. bloody hell that went quick). And for those that have read this far, surprise – he’s got a sibling on the way.

Merry Christmas to you. Happy new year. You’ll hear from me again soon. After all, eternity is a frightfully long time to spend alone!

PSC xo.


Happy Halloween!

front cover definitive



Happy Halloween, creepy people! Hope you had a spooky time. Big thank you to everyone who participated in the Halloween giveaway of Tenebrae Manor and The Will of the Wisp. Enjoy your free book! As always, more promotions will be run in the future. How was your Halloween? Did you dress up? Here’s me as Robert Smith of The Cure;


Until next time!

Coal Coast Emporium

Copies of my books are available at the Coal Coast Emporium in Helensburgh – my home town!

Drop in for a large range of educational toys, books and gifts. Support local business!


9a Walker Street Helensburgh NSW

Caprine Pike

Here dance the husks

the husks of men

They dance through flames

they burn to ash

And drums they thump

The goat-skin drums

Tambourine shake

drums they thump

The fire roars

The fire cracks

Like beetle wings


Shadows tall

The shadows of men

Cinder bespeckled

a dark-led dance

Mottled mothwing

Strangled halitus

This ill wind,

What horror.

Leaves, they spin

In dusk

they glide, they whirl

too dry to rot

To ash, to star

All fall down, to rust

Nothing left

to burn.

There it goes, the dust

There goes the dust

Away, the dust

It’s gone

To dusk-woven death

it’s gone.


Harbour (Bare)

Away from imbroglios and brouhahas

To the torpid shorelines

Of oleaginous waves

Awash from dread and doubt

Brings forth a pulsing sorrow

Overwhelmed by drowning blues

Of sea and sky and burning sand

Of land-bound winds and crashing wake

In tranquility life is muted

Gulls spin on a mobile

Star-shaped shadows flit across the sand

Concave dune and convex contour

Shrill bell-cry through feathered throats

Rhythmic scuttling under the pier

Careful crab claws collect

Treasures no other would keep

But the high tide who’d steal them back

Stagnant indifference arrests the heart

The ocean recedes toward the horizon

Fish lay putrid and silver

In the stale rays of the day

And the rotted oyster tide

Hulls groan and chip their paint

Their decks creak in horror

Restless convicts of the bay

Knock the lynch-pin wharf

Inward cries split the ribs

Unbearable benevolence

I’d destroy it if I could

To bring an equilibrium

Wrapped in gloom-cloaked wings

She calls my name I am soothed

The oleaginous waves

The torpid shorelines

Wash away dread and doubt