“About 200 camels have been removed from South Australia’s remote Aboriginal lands as part of a feral camel management project.
Aboriginal people have been trained to muster the camels, creating an industry and turning an environmental problem into a source of income for the APY Lands.
The camels are transported to Queensland abattoirs for processing.”
You gotta love search-terms. Using the you-beaut Jetpack stat thingy, I found that two people have arrived at this website by searching for the terms “several deloreans” and “camel death”.
Hope this helps my anonymous visitors. Don’t say I never give you anything 🙂
The good folks over at the Writers of the Future contest have rereleased the video of the 2010 awards ceremony. They’ve chopped the 2 hr + video into accessible 5 minute chunks, organised into order of the award recipients! Most excellent. Here you see me and my illustrator Seth J Rowanwood collect our award statues, and thank the folks who got us there. Added bonus – a crooked bow-tie that apparently drove my poor mother crazy 🙂
If you’re a budding SF writer or illustrator, you could do worse than to enter this contest. Info can be found here:
Me, circa 2004: “Hey, wouldn’t it be awesome to write a sweeping epic, with sentient elephants who have established a complex society and family groups? I think I’ll call it Tusk.”
 Me (in a bookstore, circa 2005): “Goddamnit, that was MY idea!”
Me, circa 2009: “I’ve got a great idea to pitch to that zombie series: postapocalyptic world, sassy teenage girl, skilled with a bow and arrow. I’m gonna write that sucker.”
 Me, circa 2012 (everytime I see this poster): “Goddamnit, that was MY idea!”
Me, circa 2006: “OMG, best idea ever. So, when Ned Kelly was holed up at Glenrowan? And there was that train bringing all of the policemen to arrest him? What if it NEVER arrived? It would change everything! That’s a great idea for an alternate history novel! I’m gonna research it RIGHT NOW.”
Me, about 15 minutes of internet research later: “GODDAMNIT THAT WAS MY IDEA.”
I just sold my story “Rolling for Fetch” to Aurealis Magazine. This will be appearing in issue #49.
“The drive train went underneath the muscle itself, something like the innards of an old clock, a mesh of gears and cogs. Then the winder cranks, one in each leg, protruding between the peroneus longus and the tibialis anterior, reminding the world that anyone mad enough to actually go through with this was not a human now. More a wind-up toy with a death-wish.
Finally, a pair of wheels were connected to the bottom of the rig, hooked up to the drive-train dangling from each bleeding leg. The most popular option was a pneumatic tyre with knobbly grip, one foot in diameter, filled with smart-gel to ward off punctures, magic goop to heal over little nicks and tears.
Good suspension was a must.
When Whip survived this procedure, shook off the inevitable infection, unlearnt the life-long art of walking and earnt his gangdanna, he had the right to call himself a skeg.”
