Battery Point? No problem. You that guy working for Lucian Clarke? Word gets around. Cab drivers love to gossip. So what’s he like? Besides being a good tipper. Really? Thought as much. You can tell from his books. Yeah, of course I’ve read them. You think I don’t read just because I drive a taxi? Just teasing. I bet there aren’t many people down here who even know who Lucian Clarke is, let alone own his books. Yeah, but Tasmanian literature is an interest of mine. Bigger than you think. Tasmania has more musicians, writers and artists per head of population than any other state in the country. I reckon it’s the climate. Most of the time it’s so bloody cold that there’s nothing else to do except stay inside and create. I wouldn’t say I have a favourite exactly…it’s just a hobby that I try to keep up. Well of course there are your notables like Richard Flanagan and Christopher Koch and Amanda Lohrey, but I bet you’ve never heard of Joan Wise or Nan Chauncy, have you? What about Roy and Hilda Bridges? Brother and sister, both writing around the early twentieth century. I think Robert Dessaix is still here, but Nicholas Shakespeare has moved back to England. Of course we get a lot of blow-ins. Caroline Leaky was here only five years, and sick for most of it. You know The Broad Arrow? Don’t worry, not many people do these days. But supposedly Marcus Clarke used it as a reference for The Term of His Natural Life. He’s another one. Only ever visited Tasmania. Never lived here. But most people assume he was Tasmanian because he wrote about the place. At least Gwen Harwood had the decency to move here. So did Katherine Scholes. Ever heard of Arthur James Oglivy or James McQueen? Maybe they’re too much before your time. But like I said there’s a healthy community of contemporary writers here as well. Carmel Bird, she’s sold a few books, and Geoff Dean. Oh, sorry, he died a few years ago. I keep forgetting that. What about Philomena van Rijswijk? Read any of her poetry? Who else is there? Heather Rose. Gina Mercer. Kathryn Lomer. Adrienne Eberhard. No? Well you’ve got some homework to do, haven’t you? Not much use coming to Tasmania and learning nothing about the place. I assume you do a spot of writing yourself? You just look like the type. There’s a writers’ centre down here you know. I’m a member so I can put in a good word for you if you’d like. Yeah I dabble. Not really poems, more flash fiction. Something short I can get down while I’m waiting for my next fare. Shame I haven’t got one here to show you. I’ve had a couple published. Just in small magazines. What about you? Oh, right, good on you. I’m considering having a go at a novel soon. Don’t worry, it won’t be about escaped convicts or hunting Tasmanian’s tigers. I’d like to think my work is a little more original than that. No, it’s about the whaling community that used to be in Hobart. Supposedly, at one time, there were hundreds of whales in the Derwent River. People said you could walk on their backs from one shore to the other. The Governor used to get letters from people complaining that they couldn’t sleep because the whales were singing all night. Imagine that! Course they killed them all, but I reckon it would make a pretty interesting story, don’t you? Here we are. That’ll be twenty-one, fifty. Make it twenty, we writers have to stick together, don’t we. Let me give you my card. Just call the number and ask for Phil. I’ll come and get you straight away.