Phase Three Pre-orders

I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been working on a new stand-alone novel, and trialling a new distribution model to accompany it.

Phase Three is a science-fiction story that explores a near-future Earth and the implications of our emergent technologies through the eyes of four unique characters. It’s still in draft form, so the blurb is currently a little vague to avoid spoilers, but here goes:

Cover-PhaseThree-DraftThe world has an addiction. Augmenting reality – augmenting ourselves – averted a looming energy crisis, but it has become something more than that. “Overnight equality,” promises the slogan, and what’s a decade or two between advertisers?

We redefined what it means to be human, then bought our own bullshit retail.

But the physical world still exists, however much we stare into the infinite. People yet remain, living outside the reality bubbles we create. And so do the consequences of our inattention.

Three individuals, each a casualty of flawed implementation, face intimate, inconsequential decisions in pursuit of their goals. Then there’s Gordon, who simply wants to escape his past without being killed.

And their actions could unravel the world. Or save it.

Sound good? Want more? Well, you can read a sample chapter and meet the characters at the link below. Better yet, you can pre-order a copy (or three) and help bring Phase Three to life.

Read and support here:

You can also read my interview with The Warbler, a book review blog that’s also worth checking out, which touches on the background of Phase Three and my reasons for choosing to trial the Inkshares model.

The Warbler interview here:

Poetry round-up – April 2016

Below you can find a few of the Twitter poems I’ve posted over the last month.

I’ve been hard at work revising the second volume in The Fallen Mythos, but I’m taking some time to refocus on my science fiction novel in progress, which happens to fit the bill for the Geek & Sundry Hard Science Contest. Starting April 4 (or 5, local time) I’ll be spamming you all with plenty of info, and I’ll create a separate post once that’s up and running.

When writing poems for Twitter, the character limit doesn’t often leave space for a title (or I’m just greedy) so the poems with single-word titles are titled with the prompts themselves, whereas I cheated and posted the remaining poems as images.


I string the tinsel
on a branch
without a tree –
or a tree without
a bough –
and wonder where
it glimmers now?


What strikes
me the least –
aside from my wife,
she says –
is the blow
that foiled expectations
are meant to land.


To touch
the fuse
then stand
in silent mastery –
or subtle self-deception –
as the flame ignites
and your eyes

Of your former self

Tap, drop, sear
me and I will shatter
shards of viscous
potential broken
exposed and raw

but when you hit
that singular
solid place
the one
that will not be moved
the one
you always find
your fiercest blow
is but a breath

Ethereal verse

The sidewalk slick with druken dreams
– or sick, look out – don’t stand in it!
While poetry caresses scenes
your feet can tread in real shit.

So what’s the humble scribe to pen,
or arsehole, if we’re being fair?
Retire your lofty muses, then,
and let the shit be the idea.

There must be more, your instincts say –
the world a radiant, hopeful sphere,
and pretty words can still convey
the miracle of being here –

Yet even now, your shoes are stick,
and wiping reaffirms the smell;
So see the beauty in the muck:
Aim for heaven, but speak from hell.

Consensual text

“It wasn’t defiance my dear
when I said I’d prefer to wait.
If a no is so hard to hear
that you have to negotiate –
your rhetoric urging me try
and unpacking your need to mate –
then I’d better revise my reply,
’cause I’m now in a passionate state:
Go fuck yourself,” she said –
but her tone made the means

They call it torture

When the droplet


over and over
charting illusory impressions
on your face

So why is
your memory the illusion
that draws these droplets
from my eyes?

And where is the torture,
if not in our grief,

the dropping,

and the late that
forms below?

An open letter to the Catholic Church on the protection of minors

I would like to preface this letter with a personal disclaimer and trigger warning:

This letter discusses the ongoing Catholic sexual abuse scandal. It contains coarse language, because sexual abuse is an emotive issue. It also contains specific understandings of Catholic teaching. You may disagree with my choice of words or application of scripture, in which case I would encourage you to find your own means to express to your local Bishop why immediate action is required. The top-down approach has continued to fail. It is time to compel the Bishops to do their job.

I have been employed by and personally know and respect Bishop Patrick Dunn of the Catholic Diocese of Auckland, a deeply learned and pastoral minister who has truly dedicated his life to the service of others. I also see a man who is chronically overworked, and who I believe has been poorly advised on at least some of these matters, no doubt by sincere individuals with the best of intentions. I have addressed this letter to him as my local Church representative, while acknowledging that his own role is largely as an inheritor of this tragic legacy, and one who has taken steps in the right direction – but is still some way from a credible destination.

16 March 2016

Dear Bishop,

Enough is infinitely too much.

It isn’t a pleasant issue. Few issues that matter are. But for far too many of us, it’s also one that’s close to home.

Clerical abuse.

And it’s more than an issue: it’s a betrayal, perhaps the most horrific that can be inflicted. There is no question about that; nobody minimising the impact or the horror of abuse. The evasions only start when it comes to the Church’s response.

So this is an open call to the Bishops of the world, beginning with our own Bishop of Auckland, Patrick Dunn. The Body of Christ and the secular world are united on this. Some can’t speak of it. Some want to hide it, argue the extent or the impact; but all can agree that it needs to be made better. Not right. You can never make it right. This is a legacy that will justly cling to the Church, and perhaps inject a humility that is too often lacking.

But you can take action. With the dismissal of Peter Saunders – and let’s not pretend it’s anything else – from the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors, the Curia has once again taken a stance that is morally and theologically indefensible.

The Commission has argued that long-term policy development is their priority, whereas Mr Saunders contends that the Commission should also be focused on the immediate, individual cases that are being improperly handled by Dioceses. And there are many.

In scriptural terms, the Commission prefers to ignore the multitude at the door for the comfort of hypothetical victims, who are so much easier to confront.

As one of the two – only two – abuse survivors on the Commission, a single vote has managed to silence Peter Saunders’ voice. You may disagree with him. You may debate his recommendations, or offer alternatives, but you cannot ignore the victims who believe that he has clearly articulated their collective concerns, and he must be reinstituted as an active member of the Commission. Voices of dissent and challenge are essential to change, and the entire process appears disingenuous when the Church marginalises them.

As would-be Apostles of Christ, this situation calls on the Bishops of the world to once again aspire to their calling.

Whatever you believe of Peter Saunders’ methods, his concerns are echoed by a multitude of victims. The Church’s absolute first priority in this situation is not policy, or even reparation: it is protecting the children of the world from the predators who still take advantage of the Church and its sanctuary for their own depravities. Peter Saunders has done much to illustrate how far the Church still has to go in this mission, and it is a sickening picture.

The public perception of the abuse crisis is that the Church now hands all abuse cases over to the appropriate authorities. Why wouldn’t they? While this may be the case in all right-thinking Dioceses, it is still not Church policy or universal practice, and this is unacceptable.

Some Bishops have justified this approach – and it’s the only defence I’ve heard – by raising the spectre of unjust accusations as a threat requiring careful management by the Church. However, this response raises several obvious problems:

  1. The burden of being unjustly accused, while horrible, remains by any measure lighter than the burden of being abused.

    Studies disagree on the rate of false accusations of childhood sexual abuse, but none place it higher than 10%. Using this worst-case figure, if nine in ten abuse claims are founded, then society and the Church is compelled to first safeguard the alleged victim and prevent the potential for further abuse of them and other victims, before examining the veracity of the claim.

    Put this in context: for every ten cases you investigate to protect the priest involved, nine minors continue to be abused while you fail to escalate the case to the legal system. At least nine more victims, directly harmed by an inaction that has also caused immeasurable harm to the Church.

  2. False accusations of abuse occur in both secular society and among accused priests. While the inclination to defend your fellow ministers is admirable and well-intentioned, what moral authority allows a priest to receive preferential treatment over his flock? Remember to render unto Caesar: Priests, servants to all, must not be elevated above the justice system, even where it might operate in a flawed context. Working to fix the system is admirable; circumventing it is criminal.
  3. No matter how gifted your Pastoral Assistants and other staff, they lack the physical, psychological and legal resources of a police department, and are simply not a credible avenue for investigating abuse.
  4. The opportunity to gather evidence of abuse, as with any crime, diminishes over time. Potential witnesses forget details, physical evidence is compromised, and objectively assessing the case becomes more difficult with each passing day. To return to the rare case of a false accusation, it is in the priest’s interest to get the authorities involved sooner, not later, so that any exonerating evidence can be recovered.

There are societal problems with false accusations and the difficulty of recovering unjustly damaged reputations, but the bottom line is that these are a clear minority of cases and that children continue to be abused when priests and Bishops are too slow to take action. We must fix the societal problem, but our first responsibility is to the nine in ten legitimate cases, and ensuring that these children are out of harm’s way immediately.

There are no two ways about this: top-down policy or not, Commission oversight or not, Peter Saunders or not, every Bishop must enforce this simple requirement to protect the children of his Diocese and end the environment that allowed abuse to continue for so long.

When an accusation is made, the police are involved. If you cannot do this, resign now and save the Church another decade of hypocrisy.

Which brings us to assisting survivors of sexual abuse. Once you have safeguarded the current generation of children, you need to step out from behind the bulkheads of public relations and administration, and really confront the situation surrounding victims of sexual abuse. It appears far less nuanced when it must be lived every day.

The absolute minimum assistance that should be offered to a victim of Priestly abuse is:

  1. For the Church to financially recompense them for every hour of counselling they have had to undergo, and every hour to come.
    This cannot be limited with phrases like “within the financial means of the Diocese.” While the Diocese has a single asset or a single cent to their name and an abuse victim requires treatment, that money is theirs. End of story, as far as Christ would be concerned.
    A Church that is physically destitute but morally just is a far more potent vessel, and it would be better to tear the human organisation down and start again than to continue on a course of hypocrisy for the sake of material greed. Humans are loss-averse, we know this as psychological fact. But Bishops have a responsibility to transcend such material inclinations and put the lives of victims first.
    And remember: unlike any other perpetrators of abuse, the Church enabled and then knowingly concealed abuse while simultaneously claiming the highest moral authority. This makes the Church uniquely culpable, and there is no mitigating this requirement while maintaining the Church’s credibility.
  2. For the Church to provide an appropriate level of financial restitution for the suffering and personal consequences of priestly abuse.
    This will, where possible, be guided by other abuse survivors and cannot come with any requirements attached. You cannot, in any conscience, buy the silence of an abuse survivor.
  3. For the Church to stop trying to play shepherd to these victims, when that opportunity is well and truly past.
    The impulse to want to ensure the victim is getting the best treatment possible is understandable, but the Church has already failed in her duty of care: you have no tenable position to manage, oversee or investigate the victim’s treatment choices, duration or outcomes.
    The Church is the aggressor in this context, and you do not get to manage anything. Treating victims as incapable of discerning their own treatment choices is patronising and itself perpetuates the Church culture that allowed and concealed abusive behaviour.
  4. A recognition that, in most cases, the victim is irrevocably disillusioned with the Church. While clergy and committees will and should pray for victims of abuse, proceedings should contain an awareness of possible discomfort and triggers, down to practicalities like ensuring that meetings are not held on Church property, and putting the well-being of the victim first.
  5. A full and honest apology. You cannot make this if you are continuing to contest victim needs, deny restitution, or request name suppression in credible abuse cases. This parallels the sacrament of reconciliation: forgiveness is not granted unless you make an honest and unfeigned act of contrition to every single victim.

Until you meet these basic requirements, then you are not dealing with the sexual abuse scandal; you are a part of it, and not fit to wear your mitre.

Once your own house is in order to such minimum standards – and ideally well above them – then comes the big question: will you stand up to the Curia, as a Bishop of Christ, and tell them that enough is infinitely too much?

The world is watching.

The Didache, The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, dedicated an entire section to recognising those who would take advantage of the Church for their personal ends. False prophets, it called them. People who would take on the mantle of priest and teacher, and commit selfish deeds in its name.

If the earliest disciples of Christ could see that this would be a problem, and openly discuss it in their teachings, how the hell did the Church get so far off track? When did reputation become something that you own, rather than earn?

You don’t automatically get your reputation back. You are all part of a broken organisation. But you do get to choose whether to fix it now, or let it fall in face of continued hypocrisy and denial.

The Church has already lost many members. Victims of abuse, their families and friends, and those like myself who simply cannot tolerate the continued missteps that betray the beautiful words and intentions of the faithful.

Francis has walked down some inspiring paths, but this shadow looms large behind him, as it has for his predecessors. How this plays out – how you respond – may be the difference between a legacy of life or a deepening of the decay.

Demand, then, that Peter Saunders be reinstituted on the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors, and that victims are never again silenced or marginalised, no matter how challenging their voices.

Resolve to call the police immediately when an abuse complaint is lodged, for the protection of all current and potential victims.

Craft authentic and transparent Diocesan policy to engage with victims of priestly abuse and organisational misconduct, that is consistent with your understanding of Christ.

It is time to demonstrate that you are not a false prophet. It is time for the Bishops to stand together, to beg for accountability (because it’s your fucking job) and to remind the Church that her duty is to tend to the people who she has wronged, without guile, without fear and with a transparent commitment to change.

In love and hope,

Peter John Ravlich
Twitter @PeterRavlich

Same shit, different eyes

blankWhat matters context, save Perspective’s key,
When contemplating dull captivity?
For words would take unmitigated flight;
But knowledge binds them into black and white.
And so, ascribing malice to the spheres –
Expecting that to dry the convict’s tears –
May err in fact, while still remaining true:
His weeping may to other cause be due.
So in this case, the context is your claim,
And your perspective is itself to blame:
You sigh at fate, and pin it on the stars,
While he escapes by looking through the bars.

I wrote this piece in response to a #FieryVerse prompt on Twitter, using the following excerpt from The Canterbury Tales, beginning line 1083:

For Goddes love, tak al in pacience
Our prisoun, for it may non other be;
Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee.
Som wikke aspect or disposicioun
Of Saturne, by sum constellacioun,
Hath yeven us this, al-though we hadde it sworn;
So stood the heven whan that we were born;
We moste endure it: this is the short and pleyn.’

The prompt used this translation:

For God’s love, take things patiently, have sense,
Think! We are prisoners and shall always be.
Fortune has given us this adversity,
Some wicked planetary dispensation,
Some Saturn’s trick or evil constellation,
Has given us this, and Heaven, though we had sworn,
The contrary, so stood when we were born.
We must endure it, that’s the long and short.

The passage comes from The Knightes Tale (autocorrect is having a field day with Chaucer) and is spoken by Arcite, who seeks to console his fellow prisoner Palamon. [SPOILERS?] Palamon has just seen Emelya in the garden, and completely lost his shit because her beauty is overwhelming. Arcite hears the cries, assumes they’re the despair of incarceration, and tries to console his cellmate with the above cheery passage about predestination.

It was a challenge to shift from the more comfortable Shakespearean ABAB rhyme scheme to Chaucer’s rhyming couplet pentameter, but a fun one:  would play again.