A prize of one's own: Flares, cock-forests and dreams of a common language

This has been an an essay which has kept writing - and rewriting - itself. I was approached by Rebecca Starford about it after she chaired a panel I appeared in, discussing the under-representation of women in print. That panel was organised by Melbourne independent bookshop Readings, on International Women's Day. Preparing for it, and the writing of this essay, led me to a sense of real despair. I have been having versions of these conversations for some 30 years and here I was, yet again, publicly bemoaning the treatment of women. The parameters of the debate never change. In fact, I think they're getting worse...