Monthly Archives: February 2012
John McDougall Stuart was one of Australia’s greatest explorers. He was relentless in his quest for a way through the centre of Australia and finding a route to the top end. He led six expeditions , each time pushing himself and his men to the brink of death. He travelled light with minimum provisions and horses, and just a few men.
Stuart’s expeditions started in 1858 in search of Wingillpin. Thinking there was an inland sea in the middle of Australia, the brave explorer forged his way from Adelaide to the centre. From there he moved ever northward, looking for the coast and the Gulf of Carpentaria. He discovered and accurately mapped land, ranges, rivers and water holes, enabling stock routes to be formed and the first overland telegraph to be laid from Adelaide to the north coast of Australia. His last expedition in 1862 took him a year and finally he forced his way through to the sea at Point Stuart, on the edge of Kakadu National Park. He had won the race for the first white men cross Australia from south to north.
John McDougall Stuart died in 1866, in England, a poor and sick man. He was 50 years old.
John Bailey has written an incredible historical account of a man who was grossly under-acknowledged for his achievements in the founding of Australia. The research and detail in the book are phenomenal. He managed to capture the essence of John McDougall Stuart, what made him tick, and portrayed the force within that pushed him, time after time, to keep returning to outback Australia and find a route from the south coast to the north.
The book is compelling reading, both in its narration and adventure of the story. It portrays a man totally driven, for reasons known only to himself, and how it finally destroys him. The skill with which John Bailey has documented the events are second to none. I wholly recommend reading this book – it will forever etch in your memory the great men who arrived in a hostile and arid land and, with force of will, beat the elements and mapped our future.
A beautiful manuscript page, with many hours of work. Editing those manuscripts would have been very time consuming, trying to decipher the handwriting. With most manuscripts being typed today, it is much quicker and easier to have a manuscript prepared for publishing.
Has your book has been sitting on the top shelf gathering dust? It’s time to pull it out and together we can get your book ready for publishing.
To give you an opportunity to have your book edited and help you on the road to publication, we are offering HALF PRICE on ALL editing. That includes Copy editing and Structural editing.
Contact Aurora and find out how easy it is !
So you want to be a part-time Detective?
Make It Good is an interactive book where you can play the detective and solve a murder. Can you give the drink away long enough to solve the case?
A difficult challenge – you are going to have to think and take time if you want to progress through the book. Its a hard case with complex characters.
To play the game, click the picture, then the space bar to start. I suggest you read the help section before starting if you have not played before.
That first morning I wrapped a scarf around my neck and lit the stove. I tripped over my shoes on my way to the sink to fill the pot. I looked down at them accusingly, as if anyone but me could have put them there. I looked up after kicking them across the room and that was when I saw him for the first time. I wouldn’t find out until later that he had been there for weeks. Inches away from me as I slept. An arm’s reach as I showered and dressed each morning. He sat with me while I overcooked my eggs and searched the internet for a cat to adopt, each time deciding against it because I could imagine it snowballing into two or three until I became one of those women.
The outside world that day, and every day since I had been living there, was a white swirling mixture of ground and sky. Set against the bright seamless backdrop was the outline of a man. He was fading in and out with each gust of wind, like a Polaroid gone backwards. But I saw him. I saw the tip of one of his pink fingers poking out of a hole in his glove. His hands were up against his mouth which was covered in a thick dark beard and his breath came in a long slow billow of white smoke, like the mouth of a gutter under a frozen street. His hood was pulled up over his head which made his eyes ever brighter in the shadow. I couldn’t tell what color they were, but they seemed to have a reflection inside them like the round outline of a flashbulb in the eye of a magazine model. I didn’t scream. I felt nothing like adrenaline, or dread. Or that feeling when your heart beats so fast it makes you want to throw up. Nothing like that happened. If someone told me that they saw a strange man staring at them through their window I would have expected to hear them say, “And then I screamed and dropped my glass and it shattered and I ran to the phone and dialed 911 and then I ran to my front door and pulled the deadbolt across and then I hid in the bathroom with the door closed and I couldn’t stop shaking.” But I didn’t do any of that. I stood completely still as if someone was holding me there, and I watched as the man I saw so clearly disappeared into the endless white.