Origins

Liz is a wordsmith, a story teller. She loves stories in all forms. Stories told with voices, with pens, with bodies, with instruments or shadows against the wall.

Where did Liz come from?

This is a new section of the website, there are all the what and when details elsewhere, but here's my first go at putting down the why. It's inspired by Terry Dowling's lovely rambling bio and a realisation that I should give folks the chance to know where my writing comes from. It's been tricky and challenging to write, making choices on what to include and what to exclude. Please let me know what you think, if it's too boring, too long, too short - comments can be made at the bottom or e-mail me liz@ozgamer.net .

This bio, like life I guess, is a story in progress.

The Primroses were over.

Liz's earliest memory of reading is watching the words of Watership Down over her fathers shoulder. Her sense of confusion, and later gratitude, when she discovered he was condensing the long descriptive passages. Her life has been rich, given vibrancy in the warm glow of stories and ideas... snuggling together to be read a tale, yarning at the dinner table. Tales to be lived, tales to be told, crowded into a tiny caravan, walking the boundary line or in a house overflowing with books on every possible topic in a land where curiosity was king.

"Margaret, your waters have broken!" "Noooo, it's the waterbed leaking, let me sleep..."'

Liz was born in a bit of a rush on April 3 1980 some time around dawn. Making it fairly conclusive that it was not the waterbed at fault.

Liz was a fearless child, never walking when she could be running down stairs and lived in a house where all the animals were called Fred. It is perhaps, no surprise that she broke her leg when she was three, toddling out into a neighbourhood soccer match. When they pulled her out from the bottom of the pile up she was demurely in shock and surprisingly serene for someone who's leg was bent in an unusual angle. In later years she was to regret her early accident, as she had been too little to remember the details of what sounded like an interesting experience.

Temples and baked beans

After an eventful first few years the family moved to China for several years when Liz was around four. China was a land of temples, grey snow, school kids with American accents, icypoles and bakedbeans that tasted like dirt, and a bazillion friendly people.

Liz loved to have long and elaborate conversations with strangers who seemed hypnotised by her patter... and did not understand a word of English.

Crazy white people

It was a shock and more than a little bit scary to arrive to the crowds of Sydney after living in Beijing. Liz became petrified of cities because they were full of bossy white people with pointy faces who were mean.

The family moved to a little place called the Pocket in northern New South Wales where they raised goats and cattle. Liz's Dad, Dennis, had had his health collapse and it was hoped that managing a 120 acre farm in hilly clay country would help him recover. Liz walked a mile to school in bare feet, because she refused to wear shoes, and would hop from dry cow pat to dry cow pat when the ground was too rocky. Her best friends were goats, donkeys, a mad saluki called Roxy and a marmalade cat called Orlando. She is staunchly a 'dog person' and does whatever the cats tell her to.

At age 7 she announced that she was going to be a writer. Her Dad said certainly, but be an interesting person who explores and does things as well. She has been writing, exploring and doing ever since.

After a few years in the bush the family returned to Canberra so that her brother could go to a better high school and because perhaps running a 120 acre farm in remote country is perhaps not the best way to recover from chronic illness. Liz was a little bamboozled by the big city, and walking to school wasn't half as much fun without cow pats.

She went to Mawson Primary school, until a teacher killed her poetry. Her parents sent her to an independent alternative school so that could could get her poetry back, but she climbed trees, learnt how to use a bandsaw and a forge instead.

The slough of despond

High school was painful, despairing and occasionally suicidal. Violence seemed a part of life, mostly in the air, but would occasionally coalesce into physical violence. She was stubborn, angry, principled, dogged, desperate to belong, unwilling to compromise, untrusting and alone. Home life was difficult, with an invalid father and a mother working herself to the bone. Illness and pain dogged her, in part from the pain of a growth spurt of up to an inch a month. She took comfort in devouring books and wrote constantly... a healthier habit than her other consolation, the fantasy that she would be in jail or dead by 19.

She had friends, but she couldn't feel them, couldn't trust them. It was like they were behind a thick pane of glass. In later years friends would reflect on the fear they felt at that time, watching Liz slip away to a dark place and feel unable to do anything about it.

She mostly wrote disturbing short stories and at 14 she got her first rejection letter, which included the wonderful words "Do not give up, you are a talented writer."

A life beyond

Things started to shift for Liz when she found places beyond her normal environment. She went to a roleplaying convention and discovered rooms of crazy story tellers, she found a place where she felt safe and accepted, it even made her feel special, and that made all the difference. A couple of times a year she would meet strange butterfly people from around Australia, and in the collective story telling space she shyly found a home... and became a lot less shy. Festival weekends of story, crucible and people were like long needed rain in dry country, and these regular replenishments helped her to find strength, happiness and hope between the festivals, the conventions. She found other outlets too, volunteering for local theatres was wonderful and instilled a high professional standard to all volunteering endeavours. Chronic insomnia was cured by the chronic sleep deprivation of working on a show.

Liz made five year plans, with simple, heartfelt goals and would be astounded to see them achieved in one. She made further five year plans, and slowly the world shifted, love became possible and people became kind. There are people she pleasurably owes deep debts of gratitude to, for providing her with tools of comfort and self discovery, for reality checks, for providing safe spaces and somewhat miraculously believing in her.

Liz wrote, and continues to write, roleplaying games for conventions that provide singularly cathartic and extraordinary experiences. Her first solo effort, at age 16, was "For Those Left Behind", which won the Best New Designer Award at Phenomenon.

After For Those Left Behind she was invited to be a writer for the Triptych and wrote "When I Meet My Family" a game about a mother, a father and three children. In this game, at age 17 Liz solidified her reputation for very gently making grown men cry.

University studies began in 1998, creative energy expended in all directions, including frolicking with fun comedy before returning to the gritty and psychological. Liz became a life model, a trade that allowed her learn so much and provide creative sparks for other people.

In 1999 she fell deeply in love with comics and wrote her first graphic novel script. She deferred studies for a time, to write and live and moved to Melbourne for a time where she was the world's worst Au Pair and spent a lot of time quietly by the sea reading. Liz returned to Canberra to complete her studies and ran back to Canberra when her mother was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumour (Margaret's story), her father's health having rallied at long last in time to care for Margaret.

Liz became very busy, with duties at home, two jobs, university, training in marshal arts, serving on multiple student committees and occasionally serving as guardian to her younger sister. During this tumultuous time she also went through the extensive selection procedure to be accepted into the army reserve as an officer, but they lost her in paper work for a year, which allowed her to change her mind. She wrote a lot of poetry, was given a guitar and became a singer songwriter during this period. Throughout it all was buoyed by wonderful friends and supportive communities.

Her mother did not live to see her graduate in 2002, but in spirit she was there. Liz had the unique privilege of graduating wearing her grandmothers mortar board and her mothers academic gown.

After graduation Liz was able to turn more of her energy into writing, taking the time to connect more with other creators and, as always, having a few adventures along the way. She writes across many genres and media, enjoying how each informs the other. She has been nominated for Ledger Awards, (Acknowledging Excellence and Achievement in Australian Comic Arts and Publishing) and has enjoyed steady publication. Her roleplaying games continue to sweetly and gently make grown men cry and provide powerful moments of healing and change.

Liz has worked with women's refuges, the public service, unions, circuses and in roles supporting the development and capacity of the not for profit/community sector.

She believes that life is extraordinary, that people are extraordinary and lives a wonderful life with amazing people filled with a lot of love.