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A quote from one of my favourite lyricists, Alex Turner, frontman of British rock band Arctic Monkeys: "There's something to be said for writing in the morning. At other points in the day, you're a bit more defensive."

I’m currently writing this at 5:01pm, and my head aches. This musing reminds me of something my mum has been saying to me to get me to stop doom-scrolling while I’m eating breakfast— “What brings you joy at the start of the day your brain will seek for the rest of it”. Therefore I'm priming myself to seek the adventure of writing, and making it easier for when it's 5:01pm tomorrow and I'm cranky because the neighbours are throwing a house party that is slightly too loud.

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Vocabulary extension mechanisms:

Reading a dictionary

Listening to music

Reading a book, article, or otherwise consuming media

Watching a game show e.g. Letters and Numbers

Thesaurus

Reading the label of something

Playing a word game e.g. Scrabble

Other “languages” to strengthen my writing:

Music terminology

Writing terminology

Legal jargon from VCE legal studies

Pop culture/online slang

Australian slang

Media codes and conventions- film and TV terminology

This task was particularly helpful for me because it gave me a plethora of resources to use to strengthen my creative writing. Similarly, questions of identity were provoked when I was reading "The authentic writer self" by Khalid Warsame, as I was persuaded to look inward at my identity and see how it can inform my writing, but it was also an inspiring read, as it comforted me that there are many facets to a person's sense of self. Although I am a devoted music fan, I am also a film nerd, an Australian, and a wordsmith.

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If I choose you as an editor, I am forging a channel of communication in which we can openly discuss my work. I don’t want you to be overly enthusiastic or overly critical. I HATE non-genuine feedback. If there’s nothing good to say about my piece, don’t say that there’s anything good about it. Maybe sugar-coat it a little bit: “It has potential, but…”, or something along those lines. I don’t want suggestions for improvement, I want to know what doesn’t work and why. And most importantly, I want to know how you feel after reading my work. You will be a spectator watching through the window, not the writer cradled in the living room, armed with their notebook, pen, and racing thoughts.

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Week 4: Emulation of Elizabeth Tan's Smart Ovens for Lonely People (or: What is Reading?)

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Week 4: Emulation of Elizabeth Tan's Smart Ovens for Lonely People (or: What is Reading?)

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The time in which it took for the dice to roll was elongated and pronounced. You couldn’t just rudely interrupt—Oh my god Melanie, stop gossiping! Pick up the dice and take your bloody turn!—because that would be, well, rude. So you sit in silence, waiting for Melanie Atkins to stop swishing around the coffee in her mug and resume their long-winded game of caffeine-fuelled, basement-dwelling, friendship-wrecking three a.m. game of Monopoly. Sarah descended the musty basement stairs wanting to get a break. Find an escape from working in the monotonous utopia that is working a corporate job. Sarah, John, and Lucie looked up as Melanie Atkins picked up the dice, balled her hand into a fist, shook violently and purposefully, then—”OH MY GOD YOU GUYS!".

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Stayci Taylor's "Not getting your story straight: queering heroes’ journeys and heteronormative timelines" was a very thought-provoking read this week. The heteronormativity of the "heroes' journey" is something that I hadn't considered before, and now I find it to be true. I am fascinated by the idea that stories don't have to have a sort of narrative arc typical to fiction (such as the Freytag Pyramid), and can meander and progress nonlinearly, and as they like. Stories like that are freeing, and I think that notion connects to my writing, as I typically do not like to plan my stories and like "pants" my writing and make it up as I go along. The concept of chrononormativity was also very interesting, as Taylor described it as the "prescribed" timeline that we follow in our lives, a way to push back against this being "growing sideways", which involves exploration and identity. This is something that I think I could apply to my writing, as I not only like to write queer stories but also to get creative with different stories from the mainstream.

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Music inspires me because it is a vehicle for connection, a driving force in my social interactions from day to day. Much like a pint of beer, it’s a sort of excuse to catch up with someone and spend some meaningful time with them. I think the combination of music and social drinking culminates in a staple of Australian culture: the pub. Which is why I chose to draw on a scholarly article I read for my “music in popular culture” class, written by Amangu Yamatji woman Crystal McKinnon. It appealed to me because I appreciate the idea of music as a way to come together.

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The foam of the ocean motions me forward. Into the darkness, depths, the derelict dying distance. Distance dying. Distance. Dying. I plunge into the synthetic catharsis that the river provides me. Ocean. River. Lake. Lake. Lake. Reality is bending, moulding, taking shape—and now I’m back in the crystal depths of the paradisiac waters. When will I ever go home? Home! Will I ever go ho—oh, the lake looks at me with aspiring eyes.

Crescendo, tide IN. Diminuendo, TIDE out. Accelerando. Everything is watching me. Am I welcome here? Do I belong? Sirens, markers, buoys, flags, boats, ships, waves, tides, moons, suns, life. Am I welcome here? Do I belong?

Inspired by Caroline Bergvall's Cogs and Fats from Goan Atom.

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Week 8: How am I supposed to describe a house without describing the house?! (Alternatively: What is Memory?)

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Week 8: How am I supposed to describe a house without describing the house?! (Alternatively: What is Memory?)

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This house belonged to a cat. Cats are known for being lazy. They famously sleep for eighteen hours per day, and are subject to a cruel debate with their domesticated and much livelier rival, dogs. But in the tiny apartment in which a father and his two children resided, the cat was the centrepiece. He was everything a cat wasn’t supposed to be. He was annoying, restless, jumpy, and clumsy. Luckily, the two bickering siblings weren’t the loudest and didn’t take up the most space. They argued, they complained, they sulked, but not as much as the comically small, young kitten. Four lived in the house. Three were endlessly scratched, bitten, and tormented. And one was the slyly adorable feline.

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I am serenity, everything around me I choose to ignore

I am play, a creative soul in an uninspired world

I am navigation, paths intertwining, shifting, and cementing themselves in the fabric of reality

I am musicality, punctuating life with melodies and tunes

I am rhythm, accentuating what is already there

I am water, I ebb and flow with the tide.

Intertwine, ebb, flow.

Water shifting, cementing.

Navigate rhythm.

Inspired by Metaphor Me (Selina Tusilata Marsh) from A-Z of Creative Writing Methods

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Leigh Bardugo’s characters are what draw me back to her writing. Ensemble casts are one of my favourite things ever in the entirety of fiction, which is why I will gladly revisit her work, particularly the Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone series. The relationships between the characters differ and adapt, which is why it is particularly interesting to watch them grow and develop, like you're growing up with them. Similarly, my fictional pieces often centre around a group of friends, because, like Bardugo's books, I like tracking how each character's interactions with others fluctuate based on who they are around, and change based on the plot and its progression.

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A fictionalised version of a culture I love dearly:

As I stepped off the tram at Johnston Street, I was immediately overwhelmed with the vast amount of choices I was presented with. Naturally, as a first-year music student, the sounds drew me in. Raucous rock music pervaded the space, originating from multiple buildings that looked like they hadn’t been renovated at all since the 70s. I knew I was cheating a little bit, but down the road on Johnston Street, my friend had recommended me the Old Bar, known for its underground Melburnian music scene. I strolled from the street corner to the bar, and was immediately greeted with the sounds that I know and love from back home.

The frontman was already moving through the crowd, diving in between a few dozen eager punters, who, surprisingly, caught the guy, who was severely tangled up in his microphone cord. He shoved the mic into his mouth, creating the worst kind of absolute distortion. I couldn’t hear what he was screaming into it. Nobody could.

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I often feel I’m a beginner in making music. I could practice piano for ten thousand hours. But that would make me miserable.

Something I could do is just sit down at the piano. No sheet music, no preprepared melodies. Just sit at the piano. And play. This is step one.

Step two: Record yourself, play it back, and see what sounds good and what can be improved upon. Of course, with patchy music theory knowledge from primary school piano lessons, it's not going to be perfect. But it's something to work with.

Step three: Get researching. What sounded good? Why did it sound that way?

Step four: Write. Record.

Step five: Use your voice over the recording. It's scary, but you can do it.