We are grateful to many of our members for sharing their work with our community through our events.
We share their talented writing their permission,
Enjoy these stories from our current and past Writers in Residence.
This Seasons Digital Writer In Residence is:
Kim Robyn Smith
PWC Digital Writer in Residence
Kim Robyn Smith has been a passionate writer since childhood.
Her fictional stories promote our Australian colloquialism through extraordinary events that occur in everyday life.
She attends several writing groups and has been short listed and published for flash fiction.
Kim is currently working on her second novel.
Genre: General Fiction, Crime Fiction, Short Stories
|What are you currently working on?||I’m currently working on a domestic fiction novel and many short stories|
|What are your long term goals?||To have my novel published|
Stories by our Current & Previous Digital Writers in Residence
Aussie Tucker ‘We’re Bogged? Here on the side of Moorooduc Road?’‘Yes, Jodie, that’s what I said!’ Brett ran his hand through his thick hair.They stared at the food van.‘We can’t just leave it here!’ Jodie cried. ‘We’ll get in so much trouble if we don’t arrive at the...
The Wind On a windy day at the Portsea back beach, Grandpa Henry, Connor and Meredith, and their children, Kylie, and Finn are walking along the sand. Henry is carrying a shopping bag. Meredith says, “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know. I think...
The Ferry Miles sits on the balcony at Sorrento overlooking Port Phillip Bay and the ferry terminal. "What're you looking at through those binoculars uncle Miles?" Nick asks. "I'm ferry watching." "Is that like train spotting?" "A bit." "I could...
The old beagle looks up from his basket. His muzzle grey and his eyes bleary.“Come on, Barney, my old darling. Time for your walk.” He perks up when he sees the lead, his tail wags, he struggles out of the basket and licks her hand as she clips it on his collar. They...
She remembered the steep ladder leading down from the cliff to the beach, and the cave where countless fires had been lit, blackening the roof. You could sit in there and watch the sea when it wasn’t occupied by drunken teenagers or drug-affected hippies. She hadn’t...
Andrea Rowe looked at the sheet of paper, scanning the names again, searching for the one name that was missing.“And you’ve got no idea who it was?” Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I was so focused on what our guest speaker was saying that I didn’t...