I’ve been conducting a series of Writer’s Workshops, focusing on the art of crafting compelling narratives. I help writers construct their words and meaning into easy-to-read, elegant words and sentences. Many writers believe their work is complete after three or four drafts, but true refinement often begins at this stage. Diligent crafting is essential to elevating a manuscript to its highest potential.

Recently, I collaborated with my publishing editor on my latest book, The Letters. Over the past decade, this project has undergone numerous rewrites, and restructurings, including twenty edits. Even after this extensive process, my editor identified areas for improvement.

Effective crafting demands time, attention, and a clear sense of purpose. It involves consistently refining voice, rhythm, tone, and meticulously reviewing each line. It also involves the willingness to remove unnecessary elements, even if it means cutting cherished words or sentences.

By dedicating ourselves to this process, we demonstrate respect for our reader and for ourselves as writers. Through conscious cultivation of insight and technique, we transform our writing into art. When we craft the written word, we consciously improve our insight and skill, developing our technique as writers, through repetition and devotion. 

We engage in writing because it holds profound significance, and ultimately, we craft our writing because it matters. The Letters will be in bookstores in April 2025. 

Overview:

‘As a child, I was captivated by my grandfather’s stories. A World War 1 veteran, he told me stories about France and the people he meet during the Great War. I have been under the spell of this period ever since. My grandfather’s account of the enduring bonds between Australia and the France left an indelible mark on my imagination, inspiring a lifelong passion for this historical period. Long after my grandfather died,  I discovered letters sent to him from France, revealing long-held secrets. These letters inspired The Letters, a narrative exploring themes of hope, courage, and compassion. This story bridges time and culture, posing the compelling question: If you could go back in time, what would you change?

Vicki Bennett

Recently I was asked by Queensland RSL News to write an overview about a children’s book I’ve written, The Promise, and they have kindly published this in Edition 4 of their magazine.

During World War II, Papua New Guinea nurse Maiogaru Taulebona hid a wounded Australian airman in a cave, deep in the jungle near Milne Bay. With two words, “I promise”, she was bound to the task of saving his life.

WORLD War II was in its third year, and the Battle of Milne Bay was raging in Papua New Guinea. On the night of 25 August 1942, Japanese soldiers landed between Waga Waga and Wandula, on the northern coast of Milne Bay. The intention was to seize Milne Bay in preparation for landing in Port Moresby, their final destination.

It was during this time of carnage and confusion that an Australian airman, John Donegan, was fished out of Milne Bay by local fisherman Kidilon Luka. He pulled him into his canoe and took him to a mission nurse, Maiogaru Taulebona, who hid him deep in a shadowy cave so that enemy soldiers could not find him. It was then that she made a promise to protect him and take him to safety.

Maiogaru treated his wounds, wrapping them in banana leaves, and stayed with him until he was well enough to move. Determined to fulfil her promise, Maiogaru placed him in a canoe, concealed under a pile of vegetables, and paddled him through the night to a hospital on the other side of the Island.

Maiogaru one of the brave locals who took an enormous risk by helping injured soldiers in WWII. The Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) thanked Maiogaru for saving the life of an airman, and she was awarded the Loyal Service Medal.

This is my second book written about a nurse in Papua New Guinea during WWII. The Flying Angels, published in 2021, was my first. The Flying Angels revealed the story of a group of RAAF nurses who were handpicked to rescue injured soldiers from the frontline of Papua New Guinea.

At the launch of The Flying Angel, a friend placed a Kina in my hand as a gentle reminder of the local Papua New Guinea people who also assisted and helped Australian soldiers in WWII. It was my friend’s passion for PNG’s unsung heroes that encouraged me to start my journey to find this amazing story about Maiogaru Taulebona.

The Promise is a story of courage, resilience, kindness and hope, which celebrates the bond between the people of Australia and Papua New Guinea. It is also a personal story for me as my father, Henry George McGregor, was stationed in PNG during WWII in the Signals Corp. He told me that he would not have survived without the help of the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels, as they were fondly called at the time. With care and love, these PNG natives became the Australian soldiers’ unsung heroes, rescuing injured Australian soldiers and taking them to safety.

On the 80th anniversary of the battle of Milne Bay, Chief of Air Force, Air Marshal Robert Chipman AM CSC presented copies of The Promise during his official visit to Milne Bay. Nurse Maiogaru’s family and local primary schools were very proud to receive these books. The Chief of Air Force recognises the significance of this story in connecting children in both Australia and PNG, and the significance of their shared history.

This book is a valuable resource for children to learn about their ancestors and how this conflict significantly shaped our history. The Promise also speaks of the bravery of women in the community. I believe there is a great need for authentic stories of local PNG heroes to be heard, and these ancestors will reach out to young PNG and Australian children to show them the way forward with clarity, courage, and hope.

I enjoy telling little-told Australian stories of WWI and WWII and am available to talk at schools and events about these and other ANZAC stories. vicki@vickibennnett.com.au

Published by Boolarong Press, The Promise is available in bookstores and at www.boolarongpress.com.au or www.vickibennett.com.au

I was thrilled to launch my latest book, Charlie’s War at the Queensland State Library last night, here is what I had to say:

I’d like to talk about breadcrumbs … All of us have been handed little breadcrumbs as stories from our families, or ancestors, at some point in our lives. Small fragments of information, or sometimes large pieces of a puzzle.

And you may not have picked up those potential diamonds as yet, or done anything with them, but they are waiting to be discovered, so you can to leave them as a trail for others who come after you. My granddaughter Ruby recently reminded me of the importance of storytelling in families. I was recounting a story to her, about my childhood dog, and as I was leaving, she said, ‘Could you tell me more stories when I come over on Sunday?’

Your children or your grandchildren may not be interested right now, but someday your great-grandchildren, and their children’s children, will come looking to find out where they’ve come from, so they might understand themselves better.

I began my extensive journey to Charlie Bird’s story through a breadcrumb my father, George told me many times throughout my life. George’s story is about how as a little boy, between World War I and WW II, he and his friends at the Middle Park State School in Melbourne, used their pocket money to help rebuild the Victoria School, in Villers Bretonneux in France.

 This narrative ignited a fascination within me, leading to the creation of five ANZAC children’s picture books,

• Following Two Pennies I found the story of The Little Stowaway, where a little French orphan was saved from the battlefields of France in WW1, then hidden in an oat sack, and brought him to his new home to Jandowae, Queensland.
• Next came The Flying Angel – where agroup of handpicked nurses rescued injured soldiers from the frontline of Papua New Guinea WW2, and brought them safely back home to Australia.
• The Promise, another children’s picture book, is also set in Milne Bay Papua New Guinea in WW2, where a local mission nurse cared for a wounded Australian airman and brought him to safety.
• And now this book, Charlie’s War.

All of these books tell stories of determination, love, courage, kindness, compassion, and showcase how one persons’ action can make a profound difference.

My next step with these stories began when I wrote and co-produced a documentary, Never Forget Australia. This film sheds light on seven lesser known, yet poignant stories which emerged from World War 1, and reminds us of how Australian soldiers stayed to help rebuild villages in France after WW1 and as a result, the love and affection which grew between these two countries, Australian and France.

One of the significant chapters in this documentary unveils the stories of Australian Aboriginal soldiers who enlisted in this war, and through my research, I had the privilege of meeting Des Crump, and interviewed him for this documentary.

It was then that Des told me about a welcome home ceremony that was given to Charlie Bird, and George Bennett, and held at the Euraba Aboriginal settlement on the Queensland-NSW Border. He said it was one of the few welcome home ceremonies for aboriginal soldiers after The Great War. Charlie’s experience stuck with me, and together with Des, we crafted Charlie’s War, this amazing story of hope, resilience and community.

My personal connection with WWI began when I was a little girl sitting in my grandfather’s vegetable garden. Grandpa William McCauley, told me about a friendship forged in the trenches between him, and an aboriginal solider who fought alongside him in the Somme.

So when Des first told me about his Uncle Charlie, I wanted to think that Charlie Bird and William McCauley may have met somewhere on those battlefields of France, and we were connected somehow through our ancestors, unfortunately that was not to be. This story is a tribute to the 1,250 aboriginal soldiers who fought in The Great War.

The Flying Angels tells the story of a group of RAAF nurses who were handpicked to rescue injured soldiers from the frontline of Papua New Guinea in WW2, and transport them safely back home to Australia. These nurses where known for their courage and compassion, and this story was inspired by the life of one of these remarkable nurse’s, Sister Marie Craig.

At the launch of The Flying Angels, I was seated next to Terry O’Neill, who during his 50 years of living and working in Papua New Guinea and the Asia Pacific, had the desire to support vulnerable communities which have been impacted by war and social disruption. He placed a silver Kina in my hand as a gentle reminder of the local Papua New Guinea people who also assisted, and helped our Australian soldiers in WW2. They were called the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels.

Immediately I thought of my father Henry George McGregor, who was stationed in PNG during WW2 in the Signals Corp. He told me that without the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels that he, and indeed I, would not be alive. With care and love, these PNG natives became the Australian soldiers’ unsung heroes, rescuing injured Australian soldiers and bringing them to safety.

Terry’s passion about these PNG’s unsung heroes, encouraged me to start my journey to find this amazing story about Maiogaru Taulebona. A Papua New Guinea Mission Nurse, who was one of those brave locals who took enormous risks to help injured Leading Aircraftsman, John Donegan, and with the risk of grave personal danger to herself, cared for his wounds and secured him away from the enemy. 

Maiogaru Taulebona was awarded the loyalty medal by the Royal Australian Air Force. The Promise, is a celebration of the bond between Australia and Papua New Guinea. 

This is the story of courage, resilience, kindness and hope. It is the first of a series of books I have been asked to write about Papua New Guinea heroes.

I was rushing to visit my Dad a few years back, ticking off my list of things completed and adding others as I drove steadfastly towards RSL Care.

I had just been to a meeting and I was concerned about another one, scheduled on the other side of town in two hours; yet it was very important to fit this precious man into my crazy schedule.

There was no parking near the entrance to his room, so I had to park around the back and as I walked in the hot midday sun, I wondered if I was in the right state of mind for my visit.

Already giving instructions to him in my head, I barged in. I found his room deserted and his chair empty. Lunch, that’s where he’ll be. I pushed on to the dining room and there he was, sitting at a table for four. Mrs Johnston opposite him and his mate Kerri, on his left.

Kerri was 20 years younger than Dad who was 89 at the time. Kerri was confined to a wheelchair, a stroke had detained him here for his recuperation as he struggled to mouth his words and move the left side of his body.

I waved as I walked towards the table, noticing their white rolls and butter ready on their bread-and-butter plates. That’s unusual I thought, Dad loves his tucker; why is he holding back?

As I arrived I heard their conversation. ‘Well, Kerri, where to today?’ Kerri grunted as his words travelled from his brain to his mouth. ‘Paris, yes definitely.’

‘Not Copenhagen? How about you Mrs J, are you happy with Paris for lunch?’

Mrs Johnston looked startled. Alzheimer’s had laid its heavy hand on her and today was one of those days where she did not comprehend.

I’d forgotten about their daily lunchtime ritual. Two well travelled men, unexpectedly holed up in a place that neither thought they would ever be but making the best of it.

‘Uhu?’ she replied.

‘Well that’s settled then: Paris. Left or right bank?’

‘Left of course,’ Kerri insisted.

‘Well, let’s start there,’ said Dad

I stood there in awe. Here was my Dad, the man who taught me as a child to use my imagination, showing me the way forward yet again.

I slid into the fourth chair, smiled and kissed his cheek. ‘Is there room for one more?’

‘Always room for you, my darling.’

And I sat listening to these two marvelous men talking about the tiny laneways, the open boulevards. Dad reminded me of the colour of the River Seine as it meanders through the city. That every boulangerie, every shop window, has a story to tell.

Our talk moved to the rich food we were enjoying in our lunch-time jaunt. We tasted escargots in a little café outside the Notre Dame. Enjoyed the Duck à l’Orange at that tiny café off the boulevard near the Arc de Triumph. We inhaled the bittersweet smell of the coffee as it was placed before us.

We were laughing and playing, just as I had when I was a little girl. Kerri was smiling from ear–to-ear as Mrs Johnston happily tucking into her corned beef and cabbage.

It was wonderful to spend that half an hour in Paris with my Dad, Kerri and Mrs J. When I left, I noticed my adrenal system was calmer, my body was more relaxed but most of all I was composed and joyful. After all, isn’t that what happens when you go to Paris for lunch?

I was listening to a group of young women in a café recently. They were in great spirits; a bottle of champagne arrived at the table. One of the women tapped her glass with a spoon to announce, ‘We hope you have a lovely wedding and a lovely honeymoon.’

Another woman tapped her glass, ‘We’ve all clubbed in and bought you a lucky charm because we figure every marriage needs one. You can use it in many ways. You can call time out ,rub your lucky charm when the shit hits the fan; or if all else fails you can throw it at him to get his attention. This particular charm is heavy enough and robust enough to be used many times.’

Peals of laughter followed this impromptu speech.

When the honeymoon period is over, the reality of everyday living can be quite unexpected. All relationships, marriages, partnerships and friendships have periods of hard work. A pragmatic girlfriend of mine says, ‘When it’s great, enjoy it thoroughly because the reality is relationships have peaks and troughs, great doesn’t last.’ And she’s right; very few relationships are smooth sailing 100% of the time.

As I walked away from the café, I thought about my relationship lucky charm, what’s worked for me, a tool that has centered me and given me peace when I’ve needed it.

I have found myself in that hard place where I want to blame the other person; to not take responsibility for my part in the issue. The thing that has helped me the most is to walk away from the area, or the person, or the issue and sit with my feelings. Without blame, immersing myself fully in the feeling for as long as I can tolerate it.

Don’t be side-tracked by distracting or rescuing yourself from feeling pain, stay with it. I promise, it won’t kill you. Then when you know where that feeling has settled in your body, focus on that space. Breathe into it and take the source (the other person) out of the equation. Just allow yourself to feel your way through it.

Another human tendency is to beat ourselves up for experiencing the feelings in the first place. That’s just being mean and doesn’t solve anything.

It’s taken me years of failing to do this, before I started to “get it”. The thing I love most about this tool is that it leads me back to my true self and that’s where I want to be most of all.