It’s been a while since my last post, partly because I’ve had my head down working on the new book all summer & then some. I’m pleased to say I’ve finished it. This one has taken four and a bit years of work; complicated years, really. The writing has been bookended by two global crises, the Covid-19 pandemic and Israel’s assault on Gaza, both of which have changed the way I’m working, the way I pay attention to the world, my feelings about the purpose of fiction, and much else. Something has been clarified in the process, something pretty simple and obvious, really: all this work has to be useful. It has to help.
As I write there is bombing in Rafah, in the south of Gaza, a place that was designated as a safe zone seven long months ago. The crossing at the border there is closed; aid can’t get in and people have no way out. There has already been so much death and destruction it is hard to contemplate. I am heartened by the scale and breadth of protests around the world, the student encampments and the rank and file union organising, including in my own union, the MEAA. But I’m also exhausted and ashamed by the fact that this world has so far failed to stop what is happening.
Just as in the first year of the pandemic, it’s been illuminating and utterly depressing to watch the systems that hold us in place & fail us rendered starkly visible. There’s been a sense of unmasking of structures of power and violence (I highly recommend Antony Loewenstein’s book The Palestine Laboratory for an in-depth look at some of these structures). I’ve been paying attention to the ways in which people are dehumanised, and some lives seem to matter more than others. The ways that the media, arts and culture, and language itself often act to shore up power and to silence dissent.
It does feel strange & awful to celebrate finishing a novel or writing anything at all during a genocide. It helps to look for other ways I can be useful and take action. Sometimes that’s writing, and sometimes it’s going to a meeting or joining the protests in the streets of Tarntanya (Adelaide). Sometimes it’s taking what I’m learning about craft and labour and purpose and trying to pass that on to other people, so we can sustain each other and keep doing some kind of useful work.
Today I have an online course launching at Kill Your Darlings, Writing Political Essays. I hope that it encourages writers of all kinds to consider the politics of their work, to tackle big and complicated subjects, to think deeply about power and structure and context and positionality. I really enjoyed putting the course together and weaving in some of my favourite essays as readings. It’s an on-demand course, so you can run through it at your own pace. KYD has a royalty payment structure for these courses so writers get a percentage of sales – there is a growing list of brilliant writers to support and learn from on their page. Towards the end of the course I share some of what I’ve learned so far about balancing writing and activism. It’s hard! I’m still learning.
I also have a one-off, in-person workshop coming up at Writers SA on 25 May at the State Library of SA. I don’t run many of these but I really enjoy them when I do. I like to focus on creative play and practical exercises, so it will be a fun, accessible and challenging few hours. Spaces are limited for that one and Writers SA members receive a hefty discount, so it’s well worth becoming a member if you’re not already.
Finally, I’m really looking forward to a literature/politics conference the following week at the University of Adelaide, Speaking from the South. This event brings together some incredible writers with a focus on the global South. It’s a rare opportunity to hear from two Nobel laureates (!!) and importantly to listen, learn and strengthen lateral connections outside the self-proclaimed ‘centres’ of culture. My events are on the Sunday, with a panel about our futures and a very exciting masterclass, and I’ll be attending as many of the other sessions as I can. Hope to see you there.
