Stuff about me

This blog is an attempt by me to blog on a regular basis about writing. That includes my writing, other writers, words and written work (whether electronic or traditional) but I might throw other stuff into the mix!

JB as an author and an oral storyteller

A Potted History:

I was born in Orbost, East Gippsland on the Snowy River. My parents, Myrtle and George Rowley, called me June. Apparently my father, who loved to sing and whistle, wanted to call me Jeannie because of a song he liked called Jeannie With the Light-Brown Hair. Anyway, they settled on June and that made me June Rowley (By the way Rowley rhymes with ‘holy moly’). For some reason my father never called me June; he called me Brigitte (or Brigid). I think that was because of an actress he liked called Brigitte Bardot. At primary school my friends called me Peggy because we chose names for ourselves instead of using the names our parents chose for us.

Later, I became June Barnes (because I married Mr Barnes) and many people called me JB. Then I became June Barnes-Rowley (because I divorced Mr Barnes and my father-in-law did not want me to drop his name) and people still called me JB (‘cos I like it) so it makes sense to be known as JB Rowley. These days some people call me JB and some people call me June and I like both. Nobody calls me Brigitte or Jeannie or Peggy!

JB the bush kid

My earliest memory of a home is a two bedroom farm house out on the Bonang Highway a few kilometres from the township of Orbost. It wasn’t long before that little house was crammed to overflowing with seven kids. It was probably rather stressful for Mum and Dad but for us kids it was paradise. We roamed the neighbouring sheep farms and picked mushrooms and blackberries, caught tadpoles in the billabongs and rode a fat ram like a wild horse. We rambled through the bush exploring its infinite mysteries  and enjoying endless moments of discovery. In this wild, feral existence I was secure, assured and confident but at school I was shy, confused and awkward. I was small and insignificant and so skinny I looked like I had overdosed on worm tablets.

Eventually I acquired the usual curves which attracted the attention of potential future husbands. I chose an Englishman (Dennis Barnes) and enjoyed a ten year journey as his wife after which we went our separate ways. Interestingly, before migrating to Australia, the Barnes family lived near the great grand daughters of Charles Dickens, one of my literary mentors, in Reading, Berkshire.  When I was around six years old one of my aunts in Albury sent me a copy of Dickens’ Great Expectations. She knew I loved books but she kept getting our ages (there were seven of us) mixed up and she thought I was older than six. It didn’t matter because I devoured any book I got my hands on and Great Expectations was thrilling for me. I remember being scared of the convict but apart from that I loved reading  the book. That was how a skinny little bush kid, isolated by distance and poverty, was introduced to Charles Dickens.

After many years as a practitioner of yoga I am less feral as well as calm (although I have my moments), flexible and positive.  

The one thing I am currently most excited about:  My children’s series Trapped in Gondwana

My first novel: Whisper My Secret

Things I love (other than writing) in random order:

storytelling, the ocean, rainforests, all forests,

good people, fascinating people, eccentric people, generous people,

children (not my own ‘cos I don’t have any), family,

books, listening to audio books, murder mysteries,

going to the movies (the last good one was Red Dog), stories, storytelling,

Australia, visiting countries like India and Indonesia,

freedom, walking, socialising, being on my own,

having fun, and much more.

 Activities I am involved in or have been recently involved in:

Teaching English (and maths when necessary)

teaching English as a foreign language

oral storytelling

writing

yoga

collecting books for Indonesian kids

travelling to India

travelling to Indonesia

and now… blogging