One Year and Counting
by Steve Lazarowitz

By the time you read this, I will have been in Tasmania for one year. I have not shared the story with many, but feel perhaps that those who read this column each month (hi mom!) might wonder a bit at such a bizarre change in my life. The scenario might go something like this.

A woman sits at home before her computer. She looks at Blue Iris Journal. She goes immediately to Sahara Ice, because it's such a well-written and entertaining column. She reads breathlessly, then calls to her husband, "Sid, you know that Steve Lazarowitz guy that writes that column I like?"

Sid, of course, has no idea who I am. "Uh-huh."

"He's not living in New York City anymore. Seems he's moved to Tasmania."

"That's nice dear."

"Why would anyone move to Tasmania?"

"Maybe he always wanted to go on an African safari."

"That's Tanzania, not Tasmania. Tasmania is in Australia."

"It is?"

"Yes, it's in Australia. It's where the Tasmanian Devil comes from."

"I thought the Tasmanian Devil came from Warner Brothers."

The woman sighs, shakes her head and continues reading my column.



So you see, this column is a necessary public service to explain not only my move, but also the reasons for my move, which might not be immediately apparent. I moved 10,575 miles for a woman. A woman and a chance for a future. A woman with two teenage sons. A woman I had never met. I placed a steep bet on this move. My last money in the world went to a one-way plane ticket with just enough left over to pay for my residency application. If it didn't work out, I didn't have enough for a plane ticket back. Sometimes, you have to take risks (well I do, anyway).

So I got on a plane (three if the truth be told) and I made my way to sunny Tasmania. I left in winter and arrived in summer. I left the Northern Hemisphere behind me and lost a Saturday altogether when I crossed the International Dateline. I said goodbye to friends, family and just about all my possessions. I took the chance of a lifetime on what most would consider a fool's errand.

I arrived January 5th, 2003 and there was no one to meet me at the airport. Of course, my plane was early and dana was there to meet me on time after all. (A note to the editor. The name dana is spelled with a lower case d, so please do not correct it. Likewise, I sometimes spell my own name with a silent 3, just to see if anyone is paying attention). Anyway dana took me home and I met the kids and the dog. We all seemed to get along pretty much from the start. In fact, dana and I more than got along. dana and I fell in love. We married on March 26 and never looked back. Now that I'm here a year, I can safely say this was one risk that was worth taking on every level.

If you want to read more about my adventures (there are far more to them), I invite you to visit the Origami Salad section of my web page and read the three issues of Reflections of a Recovering Author. This will tell the story in a great more detail, in a far more rambling and essay-like narrative with a lot of flashbacks. For those who really want to know something about me and my life, this is the place to go. And since we've spent a couple of years together already (that's how long I've been writing Sahara Ice), I thought it wouldn't be out of place to suggest the side trip.

By the time you read this, it will be 2004; a new year. More people have computers and access to the Internet. More ebooks are sold every year. And each year Internet relationships become more and more common. Some of them even work out.

Do I recommend taking the kind of risk I took to anyone else? Not really. You have to have nerves of steel, or nothing to lose. I think I had both.

One last little tidbit about my move. Living here allows me to finally write full time--every writer's dream. Which translates loosely to "Thank God dana has an income and is a fan of my work."

If you want to support this column, particularly if you are a science fiction or fantasy fan, consider picking up one of my ebooks. dana and I would be most appreciative and perhaps, I can go on writing full-time for an even longer period.

But even if you don't buy my ebooks, take a hike over to my web page, read some of the stories or articles or poetry there and send me an email. Let me know you're out there. Because I never expected to get rich selling books. However, every email I get from someone who reads my work is another reason to keep writing another day, another week, another month.

And if I'm not one of your favorite authors, take a few minutes to write an email anyway, not to me, but to them, whoever they are. The little bit of time you spend will brighten an author's day in ways that even a writer with my skill and panache can't adequately describe in words.

Writing is the triumph of hope over experience. Take a couple of moments this year, and give a writer that hope. You'll be happy you did.


Ste3ve Lazarowitz
Moonah, Tasmania
December, 2003

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