Parting Remarks, or, the first day of the rest of our lives

Since Sue announced an extension for the due date of these blogposts, I’ve kept my blog open with the intent that if anything came to me before this Friday, I could put it up. I am glad I have, because it’s allowed me to post a poem that came about by being in the presence of so many poets at the Festival, and now it’s allowed me to post this.

I think this will be my last blog post. That makes 11 – one of my close friends and I have this thing where if either of us realise it’s 11:11, a.m. or p.m., we text the other ’11:11!’ and it’s like an instant smile for the person who receives it. So 11 seems like a good number to finish on.

Can you imagine my excitement this morning when I looked at one of the assessments for a subject I am taking this semester and realised I could talk about the Mildura Writers’ Festival and what I learnt there in it? I think that’s the true reward, continuing the conversation in many different ways. As well as that, I’ve been introduced to a host of fantastic writers, all of whom I’ll certainly be exploring through text in the months to come.

Right now the Bendigo Writers' Festival is gearing up to begin, and so another fleet of Writers in Action will be boarding the motherblog and travelling to all the literary sanctuaries that await them over the course of the festival. This whole thing has just been incredible, really. I think I’ll be attending writers’ festivals for the rest of my life. Writers in Action: Writing the Festival has definitely been my best University experience so far and it makes me happy to think of all the students who get to take this subject in the future and experience this wonderful sensation.

Anyway, I think that just about covers everything I wanted to say in this post, and on this blog. I know this is a door closing but I prefer to think of it as a new one opening. I am an optimist and probably always will be.

Salutations!

A(n attempt at a) poem

The other night I tried writing a poem. For better or worse, this is what came of that decision:

 

Welcome to Earth

When I reached the fourth star

from the moon
I popped my own balloon
and sailed all the way to the ground.
For so long now,
I’ve made myself blind
to the futility of trying to fly
with an anvil strapped to my foot.
Now I untie it and leave it behind.

Now the gardens sing,

“Welcome to Earth”,
and I am in the exciting space
that lies between nothing and something,
where everything is new
and free from my own expectation.

Your voice rings somewhere

in my head:
“That feeling
that doesn’t go away just did”;
finding my own feelings
in someone else’s song-writing
has a way of making me feel at home.

And not even as

I was getting ready
to come here tonight
could I have dreamt this would happen,
nor even at the very last instance
before this clarity.

Is it this exact configuration

of place and time?
Or was it going to
happen this way regardless?
Shall I ever find out?
I don’t think I will,
nor do I care;
all that matters is
what has happened
and what I’ll make of it.

This is new life

blazing through my hair, every strand
of DNA
I will be happy again.
If not today, then
certainly sometime soon, at least.

An Afterthought

I’m writing this blog post kind of unexpectedly – unexpectedly because technically I don’t have to. If my mathematical calculations are correct – it’s been fourteen months since I pulled out of my single semester of a Bachelor of Accounting, so this proposition is made hesitantly – I’m about 500 words over my total word-count already, but I don’t really mind if I get penalised for it.

It’s been a week since the festival ended – semester two commences tomorrow. I’m just thinking about all of those writers who came and shared a part of themselves with a crowd of people the majority of whom they’ve never met. I don’t really believe in the cynicism about writers’ festivals – certainly not about this one. This event shows that books form connections with people that transcend physical proximity, and I think writers are aware of that when they come to speak to their readers. They speak with a familiarity that echoes the tone of their works – picking up a conversation started on paper and expanding it into the rooms we sat in for four days. I think it’s kind of beautiful.

I’m posting the lyrics to one of my favourite songs because it seems to fit here. It’s called ‘Immortal’ and it’s by Marina and the Diamonds, one of my favourite musical artists. It isn’t strictly poetry but it’s one of the songs I’ve heard in my life that speaks to me the most.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYGKxxTXqSs

As long as we keep sowing love in the world, it will live on and on and on, and it will make a difference. That’s what these writers have done – the festival is just another place they’ve decided to plant. This is what I want to do, for the rest of my life, I think.

And that’s what this festival and this subject has reaffirmed me to do. So I’m happy and grateful for this experience, and for life in general.

A Community

I was writing some of these posts about the festival and found that I was really only writing about the events themselves. Indeed, it would be remiss of me to complete this blog without mentioning the wonderful group of people I shared this experience with – the Writers in Action!

Five days isn’t that much time spent together, but thrown together as we were in attending classes and festival events with one another for five days, we became a sort of small community. I really think doing it through a University subject actually enhanced my experience of the festival as opposed to if I had gone by myself or with someone else I knew, who may not have had the same rapt glee about attending as I did. It meant that everyone who was there really wanted to be there, and having this mutual interest in writing definitely enriched my experience of the events.

Our bond was such that, after our presentation of the WiA Awards at the Finale Lunch, upon someone’s suggestion a group of us took a trip to the Perry Sandhills in Wentworth. As much as we had all revelled in the chance to listen to the writers talk about their works and experiences, it was nice to have the opportunity to simply hang out for a while on the dunes, especially as it was after the festival had ended.

Of course, when I say ‘community’, this includes our class’ wonderful teacher, fellow writing lover and friend, Sue. Without Sue, none of this would have happened – none of this would have been possible.

In high school it took me a little while to find people who were interested in some of the same things I am, so I’ve been a part of groups that appreciate reading, but this is really my first writing community, and it feels like a special bond to share. So, to everyone involved in this adventure, I think you are all wonderful people in different ways, and I couldn’t have asked for a better group to experience this festival and this subject with. I am happy we have all become friends and I wish you all the best.

Thank you.

Final Stages (Days Four and Five - July 19-20, 2015)

On Sunday morning I returned to La Trobe’s Mildura Campus, where Sharon Olds would take to the final stage to deliver the final speaking event of this year’s festival. I was reminded again that this was the first writers’ festival I’ve ever attended and it was already coming to an end. I guess all the best things run on especially limited timelines.

Meanwhile, our class groups were gathering our wits and every piece of insight we could lay our hands on in preparation for the WiA Awards, which we would present to the corresponding writers during the Finale Lunch. In sifting through our notes over the past four days and finalising our awards, I realised just how much I’d been given, how much I’d learnt from these writers, lessons that couldn’t have been taught anywhere else or in any other setting, at any other time. Is there anything better, apart from the act of writing itself, for someone who hopes one day to achieve literary success themselves?

There was an existential tone present during Sharon Olds’ event, evident both in her recital of a poem detailing a narrator rushing through an airport in a bid to reach their dying father before he departs the world, and of a poem written in tribute to her friend and fellow poet, Galway Kinnell. Yet Sharon melded this seamlessly with the playful and insightful mood of her other poems and her coinciding commentary, culminating in a thoroughly triumphant finish for the festival events.

We waited at the Finale Lunch whilst the writers and the other guests ate for our award presentations at the end. I was an ocean filled with dread (lol @ that metaphor though). I’ve never been at ease presenting an oral piece even in front of a classroom of people I know, let alone a room of between 50 and 100 people, most of whom I haven’t even exchanged a spoken word with. But my piece was short, and was over within ten seconds, and I didn’t die! It also helped that I was in a group of people who did a wonderful job, as well as the rest of the class, and the writers and guests really seemed to love the award presentations. I think we all walked out sighing, relieved that we’d pulled it off and it was over.

The next day, our last, we returned to where we started off on Thursday at 29 Deakin Avenue. I think we were all just marvelling at how much had taken place since the last time we were there. Jen Douglas from ABC Open arrived to talk to us about writing and posting content online, following which our class debriefed, discussing the festival and the tasks to complete for the subject.

Then we were finished, and one by one, we said goodbye and started to go our separate ways. Sunraysia Daily came around that point to talk about the subject and the festival and for some reason I was picked to talk to them? (I was at my Nan’s house on Wednesday and I answered a phone call from her friend who I’ve known for ages and she immediately started the conversation with “OH Zach I saw you on the front page of the paper yesterday!” to which I obviously replied, “Yeah, our class? We’re all celebrities now!”) A few of us went to the Pizza Café for lunch, reflecting on where we’d been, where we were at and what was to come, as a group of people who, six days earlier, would not have known one another to say hello to in the street. What kept coming up in conversation was how great an experience this was, and how much we had taken and learnt from it, and really, what more could we ask for?

Within a trance (Day Three - July 18, 2015)

Tom Keneally, Sharon Olds, Alexis Wright, Peter Goldsworthy, Eileen Chong, Anthony Lawrence, Tracy Farr, Barry Hill and Judith Beveridge – by some monumental alignment of the stars, we had the great fortune to hear from all of these writers on Saturday the 18^th, in a string of consecutive sessions at La Trobe University’s Mildura Campus in the Brian Grogan Lecture Theatre. In a way, the close proximity of the events made for a more intensive experience listening to the writers, and in a way, this was better and probably the point of arranging it thus. It was a procedure that both demanded and secured our acute attention, and rewarded us with an abundance of brilliantly-delivered wordsmithery in return.

It’s hard to know where to begin in describing the day, so I’ll start with what I found to be the most poignant aspect. To hear an excerpt of The Swan Book along with the backstory of how the novel came about – to paraphrase, it was conceived when Alexis Wright was attempting to focus on something other than John Howard whilst he was in power – spoken aloud in the author’s voice, sung new life into a story that already had so much to offer the reader. Fiction and poetry readings were also performed by Tom Keneally, Sharon Olds, Eileen Chong and Peter Goldsworthy, similarly produced a thrilling and fascinating transformation of the original text.

Anthony Lawrence, Tracy Farr and Peter Goldsworthy provided greater perspective on their respective writing processes and the spheres of language within which they work. I was, for the first time, acquainted with Barry Hill, whose anecdotes about travel, his views on war, Gandhi and Tagore both thrilled and stunned.

Witnessing the inaugural Indigenous Student Writing Awards, sponsored by PEN Melbourne and presented by Alexis Wright, was a particularly moving moment and made one think, as Sharon Olds would later enunciate it with such astuteness, “Imagine if we could keep on going with this kindness to one another”.

In terms of the Festival, it was probably my favourite of the four days. I drove home feeling thoroughly stimulated, as though I had been placed within a trance, and yet sensing with perfect clarity.

Flora coming through the soil

Something that happened from the first session with Sharon Olds and Tom Keneally on Thursday night all the way through to the former’s closing event on Sunday morning was a kind of flourishing of fertile ground – I was not only spurred on to write material for my blog, as well as consider ideas for my Research Project, but I was inspired to write sections for my own novel, the body of work that’s slowly coming together independent of all school and social commitments I have.

In fact, it’s been adding to a newfound confidence that’s been developing over the past year in response to the ubiquitous fear I’ve had in the past of being inadequate in my writing, and which has often prevented progress with what I’ve been trying to achieve through language. Of course, I don’t wish things had gone any differently for otherwise I wouldn’t be at this point in my writing, but it’s really lovely to finally have enough faith in myself to do what I really want to do, and I’m happy with where my story has been, is at and is going.

There were two particular points in time during the festival where I could consciously feel what the writers were saying kind of watering the parts of my being that produce creative written material. The first occurred as Sharon Olds was speaking about her experiences writing and growing up, followed by her recital of the poem she penned whilst on the plane from the United States to Australia.

Then, as Alexis was reading The Swan Book on Saturday morning, I was suddenly possessed by an idea for a passage that would fit perfectly in the story I’m writing, and jotted a note which I’d then use to start a writing session when I got home that night.

I think our experiences, at least on some level, feed into whatever it is we’re creating, and I do believe that it was being at the festival, being in the presence of so many writers and readers and lovers of words, that spun these ideas into being. I don’t know that these passages would have come about in any other way.

I am yet to discover what else will come through, either consciously or subconsciously, from the festival onto the page… but I’m excited to see what comes of this.