Northerly Autumn 2021

northerly Byron Writers Festival Member Magazine | Autumn 2021

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GRACE LUCAS-PENNINGTON STUART COUPE

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Contents Autumn 2021 Features 008 Vale Mungo MacCallum Russell Eldridge celebrates the life of a local icon.

010 Pride and belonging Carly Findlay’s introduction to the new Black Inc. anthology, Growing Up Disabled in Australia.

012 Music and myth Writer Stuart Coupe in conversation about his biography of Paul Kelly.

016 Witless weeds and moth-eaten maggots?

With a new film version of The Witches in cinemas, how should we view Roald Dahl’s attitude to children today?

021 Matters of opinion Vivienne Pearson previews her forthcoming Byron Writers Festival workshop on opinion writing.

022 Susie Warrick Young Writers Award Read the runners-up from the 2020 competition.

Regulars 002 Director’s note 003 News & Events Restart Residential Retreats announced, Byron Writers Festival 2021 takes shape, Jock Serong visits Lennox Head and more.

006 Feature poet An award-winning piece from Grace Lucas-Pennington.

014 From the Reading Chair Laurel Cohn examines the potential banana skin in writing fiction that is naming your characters.

018 Frontier mindset Mirandi Riwoe’s Stone Sky Gold Mountain reviewed by Jenny Bird.

020 What YA Reading?

Polly Jude selects the best in recent young-adult fiction.

028 Workshops

northerly northerly is the quarterly magazine of Byron Writers Festival.

Byron Writers Festival is a non-profit member organisation presenting workshops and events year-round, including the annual Festival.

Held on the land of the Arakwal Bumberbin People of the Byron Shire. We pay respect to the traditional owners of this land and acknowledge them as the original storytellers of this region.

LOCATION/CONTACT P: 02 6685 5115 F: 02 6685 5166 E: info@byronwritersfestival.com W: byronwritersfestival.com PO Box 1846, Byron Bay NSW 2481 EDITOR Barnaby Smith, northerlyeditor@gmail.com CONTRIBUTORS Jenny Bird, India Bryce, Kate Cantrell, Laurel Cohn, Russell Eldridge, Carly Findlay, Jessica Gildersleeve, Polly Jude, Fred Kroh, Grace Lucas-Pennington, Susan Lynch, Kurt Peterson, Vivienne Pearson, Marian Tubbs PROOFREADER Rebecca Ryall BYRON WRITERS FESTIVAL BOARD CHAIRPERSON Adam van Kempen VICE CHAIR Lynda Hawryluk TREASURER Cheryl Bourne SECRETARY Hilarie Dunn MEMBERS Marele Day, Lynda Dean, Anneli Knight, Grace Lucas-Pennington LIFE MEMBERS Jean Bedford, Jeni Caffin, Gayle Cue, Robert Drewe, Jill Eddington, Russell Eldridge, Chris Hanley, John Hertzberg, Fay Knight, Irene O’Brien, Jennifer Regan, Cherrie Sheldrick, Brenda Shero, Heather Wearne MAIL OUT DATES Magazine is published in MARCH, JUNE, SEPTEMBER and DECEMBER PRINTING Summit Press ADVERTISING We welcome advertising by members and relevant organisations. A range of ad sizes are available. The ad booking deadline for each issue is the first week of the month prior.

Email northerlyeditor@gmail.com DISCLAIMER The Byron Writers Festival presents northerly in good faith and accepts no responsibility for any misinformation or problems arising from any misinformation. The views expressed by contributors and advertisers are not necessarily the views of the management committee or staff. We reserve the right to edit articles with regard to length. Copyright of the contributed articles is maintained by the named author and northerly.

CONNECT WITH US Visit byronwritersfestival.com/members to find out more about becoming a member.

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northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 03

Director’s note Greetings to all and a particularly warm welcome to our new and returning Byron Writers Festival members in this Year of the Ox. We very much appreciate your support and are excited to share more live events with you throughout 2021.

Despite the inevitable Covid outbreaks popping up around the country, it is heartening to see the arts sector valiantly making a return in 2021. I was lucky enough to attend the brilliant Bangarra Dance Theatre’s Spirit: a retrospective 2021 at Sydney Festival in January. It was such a joy to gather and be inspired, masked up as we were!

Another memorable summer season event was the Archibald Sunset Session at the Tweed Regional Gallery, a vibrant conversation between local resident Kerry O’Brien and artist Angus McDonald whose portrait of 2019 Byron Writers Festival favourite Behrouz Boochani won the Archibald Prize’s people’s choice award.

We hope you enjoyed a relaxing summer filled with books and plenty of time to read. Here in the Festival office we all felt the gears ramp up a notch as the calendar flipped to February and the year got underway in earnest.

We are all excited to be working on bringing you the full range of Festival experiences this August; planning is well underway for our schools’ program, our travelling program, Writers on the Road, and the main Festival itself. As you would expect, it won’t be a complete return to normal in 2021 so keep an eye out for updates on how we will be running a Covid-safe 2021 Festival.

In other news, StoryBoard has kicked off its 2021 program of school visits and we are thrilled to see our StoryBoard bus again visiting schools throughout the region. After a year of mostly online learning, it’s exciting to again be bringing students face-to-face with real-life local authors.

At our first board meeting for the year, a decision was made to rename the (relatively) new Festival office premises in the industrial estate the Jesse Blackadder Centre in memory of our esteemed colleague and friend. We will continue to honour Jesse’s legacy and memory thanks to the generous donations of the many people who admired her.

Byron Writers Festival lost another great friend with the passing of Mungo MacCallum late last year. Mungo was not only one of Australia’s pre-eminent political commentators, but a major contributor to the Festival since its inception. In honour of Mungo, the Festival will have an annual session in his name. Mungo chose the topic and participants for the first one himself – we’re finalising details now, to be announced when we release the program later this year. He is remembered fondly in this edition of northerly.

Also in this edition, our new wonderful Board member, Grace LucasPennington, kindly shares her poem ‘Superposition’ with us, which won the 2020 Nakata Brophy Short Fiction and Poetry Prize.

Best wishes

Edwina Johnson Director, Byron Writers Festival

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NEWS & EVENTS

A Restart for writers

A new partnership between Byron Writers Festival and Create NSW will offer NSW writers a unique residential retreat on the North Coast.

Applications are now open for Byron Writers Festival’s exciting new Restart Residential Retreats.

The Restart program is funded by Create NSW, who have granted Byron Writers Festival $185,000 in funds to be dispersed to NSW writers and illustrators. This generous grant will be spent in free community workshops for NSW writers and illustrators of all description.

into action with these initiatives. No retreating from the challenges of Covid or the needs of creators – they are offering genuine assistance and practical support of the best kind – time and space to make. Precious gifts. I’ll be working with them to make the Restart retreat nurturing, challenging, productive, rigorous and restorative. Oh, and did I mention fun?’

community involvement with storytelling and I can’t wait to get started.’

‘The arts community has been hit hard by the Covid pandemic,’ said Byron Writers Festival Director, Edwina Johnson. ‘Our Restart program is a way to offer a broadreaching rescue package that will help create new works and valuable professional experiences.’

There will be a focus on First Nations writers and illustrators and artists of varied abilities, including artists with disabilities.

The two residential retreats will offer participants a five-day, expensespaid literary retreat in northern NSW, shared with four other artists, enriched by the mentorship of an acclaimed NSW author.

The Restart program will begin with two residential retreats for NSW writers and illustrators, mentored by some of Australia’s most acclaimed writers. Mentor for the Open Writers + Illustrators Residential Retreat, Ailsa Piper (pictured above), said of the Restart program, ‘Such a wonderful opportunity! Create NSW and Byron Writers Festival are putting words

Young writers and illustrators are certainly not forgotten, with two writers-in-residence initiatives planned for local public schools.

Award winning illustrator-writer Dub Leffler, and writer-singer Nardi Simpson, are both on board. Leffler said of his involvement: ‘Byron Writers Festival Restart extends the great work in schools done by the Byron Writers Festival StoryBoard program. Getting to work with kids over a whole term will be so rewarding. Restart supports lasting

Funding body Create NSW is keen for this stimulus package to start as soon as possible, so Byron Writers Festival are working overtime to design and roll out more exciting workshops for their Restart Program. Watch this space for new announcements.

Applications for these two residential retreats will open on Monday 1 March and close 5.00pm Friday 19 March.

For more information and details of how to apply, visit byronwritersfestival.com/whats-on/ restart-residential-retreats/

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 05

NEWS & EVENTS

Margin Notes News, events and announcements from Byron Writers Festival

Festival 2021 key dates announced After reluctantly taking a break in 2020, Byron Writers Festival will return as a live event on 6-8 August 2021, at Elements of Byron in Byron Bay. The full program will be announced and all tickets go on sale on 23 June 2021.

Photo by Fred Kroh

Of course, it won’t quite be business as usual: the safety and well-being of our guests and artists is a priority and to ensure a Covidsafe event we will be following all NSW Health advice. This includes guidelines around social distancing and capacity regulations, and to help us manage this, the Festival Board has decided we will only be selling 1-Day Passes this year (no 3-Day Passes). This means no Early Bird release, but as usual Byron Writers Festival members will receive a discount on fullpriced tickets. We appreciate your patience while we do everything we can to keep you safe.

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2021 Key Dates: 19 May: First guests announced, Sunday Locals tickets on sale.

23 June: Full program announced, all tickets on sale.

6-8 August: Festival Weekend.

Please check byronwritersfestival. com/festival for important Festival updates and announcements.

Jock Serong comes to Lennox Byron Writers Festival in partnership with LAB invite you to join celebrated Australian storyteller Jock Serong (below left) and acclaimed writer Mirandi Riwoe for a lively discussion about Jock’s new novel The Burning Island. The event will take place at 6pm, Friday 12 March at Lennox Head Cultural Centre. Tickets from $20, available via byronwritersfestival.com/ whatson

Welcome to the family Thank you to everyone who joined or returned as a member with Byron Writers Festival for 2021 – your support directly contributes to our regional arts community and makes it possible for us to deliver our yearround program. We look forward to sharing it with you!

A shout-out also to our generous prize partners for supporting our membership drive: The Book Room Collective, Annabelle Hickson, Brookfarm, Byron Farmers Market, Earth Bottles, Honey Hunt, Jenn

Johnston Ceramics, Milligram, Mingalaba, Murdoch Books, Of The Sun, Penguin Random House Australia, Pukka Herbs, Saltys Byron Bay, Seed & Sprout, Stone & Wood and Zentveld’s Coffee.

Masterclass update Byron Writers Festival’s well-loved StoryBoard Masterclass Program is up and running again for 2021.

Masterclasses are ongoing, regular out-of-school sessions in which young writers work on developing and honing their writing skills over the course of the year.

The free Masterclasses run in the evenings at Byron Bay, Lismore and Ballina. During the ninetyminute workshops, participants explore a diversity of writing forms and genres. They free-write, plan, execute, edit and revise their work, often with the aim of bringing a singular idea from concept to completion. In some cases, the final pieces are published as an anthology. Open to all keen young writers in the Northern Rivers between the ages of eight and eighteen. Register your child at byronwritersfestival.com/ storyboard/masterclass/

AGM notice Byron Writers Festival AGM for 2021 will take place on Tuesday 10 March at 5pm, at the Byron Writers Festival office at 2/58 Centennial Circuit Byron Bay.

NEWS & EVENTS

Cover story The cover image for this issue of northerly is a work by Marian Tubbs. The image is taken from an installation titled Sunscreen Eyeball Frangipani Gateway. Tubbs is an artist living and working on Bunjalung and Gubbi Gubbi/Kabi Kabi land. Her broad research interests include vision technologies, poor materialities and language or text in art.

In 2017 Tubbs was the recipient of the Marten Bequest Scholarship for sculpture and in 2015 MCA’s Online Commission. Tubbs’s work is held in the collection of the National Gallery of Australia, National Gallery of Victoria, Museum of Contemporary Art and international institutional collections. Tubbs is a Senior Lecturer in Art and Design at Southern Cross University.

LAUREL COHN Editing and Manuscript Development ~ Manuscript assessment ~ Editorial and publishing consultations ~ Mentoring ~ Structural and stylistic editing ~ Copy editing and proofreading Congratulations to Sheila Vijeyarasa on the forthcoming publication of her book Brave: Courageously live your truth (Rockpool Publishing), to be released in Aus/NZ, UK and US.

‘The process with Laurel was truly exceptional.

She took me from a writer who had training wheels on, to a writer who had confidence in her voice and her story. I could not have secured a publishing deal without Laurel. She helped me to write a tight, well narrated and strong manuscript. She held my hand closely through the whole editing process. I am indebted to her forever!

Sheila Vijeyarasa www.sheilav.co

www.laurelcohn.com.au info@laurelcohn.com.au 02 6680 3411

Kyogle Writers Festival launches The very first Kyogle Writers Festival will take place on the weekend of 14-16 May 2021, across multiple venues in the inland Northern Rivers town.

‘Our festival seeks to bring the best of contemporary Australian writing to our town, to explore meanings of ‘Country’ in this unique area, which incorporates the traditional lands of the Bundjalung and the Gidhabal,’ says organiser Paul Shields. ‘A

wild area, of which recent history features the cedar getters, farming and dairy, and also the migration of the Aquarius generation.

Speaker highlights include multiaward-winning Bundjalung author Melissa Lucashenko, host of RN’s Awaye! Daniel Browning, awardwinning short story writer Mandy Beaumont, and founder of the Sydney Peace Movement, Stuart Rees. Giving workshops will be Dettra Rose and Laurel Cohn, alongside Kaitlyn Sawrey and Frank Lopez, among others.

Head over to kyoglewritersfestival.com for tickets and more information.

Ultimo Press announces youth-focused prize New Sydney-based publishing house Ultimo Press has announced a new short fiction and poetry prize for young people, the Ultimo Prize.

Open to writers under the age of thirty, the prize will be awarded to thirty recipients, who will each receive $200 and have their pieces collected and published in an anthology by Ultimo Press. The theme of the inaugural Ultimo Prize is ‘identity’.

‘At Ultimo Press we’re excited whenever we read work from emerging voices. We thought it was time to launch a prize that gives a platform to multiple new writers at once, and so the Ultimo Prize was born,’ said publishing director Robert Watkins.

Applications close on 8 April.

For more details go to ultimopress.com.au/ ultimo-prize

Emily at Varuna In early February, Byron Writers Festival staff member Emily Brugman spent two weeks at Varuna Writers House in the Blue Mountains putting the final touches on her manuscript The Islands.

‘It was an honour to spend time writing in Eleanor Dark’s historic home,’ Emily said, ‘where so many great books have been penned over the years.’

Emily’s novel is due to hit bookstores in March 2022.

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 07

POETRY

Feature Poet: Grace LucasPennington Superposition Too many blacks goin around, thinkin they own the place – an old problem Time was, they knew their proper place; [hard workers, the blacks] these days, can’t go two steps without falling over one [theyre lucky we came here] telling us we’re the problem [lazy goodfornothin] yep too many uppity, wont-stay-in-their-lane blacks [farmers? youvegottabefuckinkiddin] Here sits an edifice; a pulpit raised of shears rumbarrels chains ships bullets theft and bloodred death book-lined, velvet-curtained veneered in an unctuous justice samely coating all the lives adjoined.

Within a man sits tracing ghostly ink, revolution emergent as if thrown, a hairshirt spirals verdant, down now onto this stage twixt the sombre stacks of once-trees, much unvisited.

The man stops stoops lifts the bristling bundle now heretic, ascends a stair other hands construct the remnant curtains part, there ‘ICONOCLAST’ spelled out in neon tubing pulsing ‘gainst a white white wall.

Tomes clasped chestward, he – our reluctant cynosure – speaks voice rising (streetpunk academic mutiny / circle back toward lost fecundity) standing, blinking manifest sunlight 08 | AUTUMN 2020 northerly

POETRY

Byron Writers Festival Board Member Grace Lucas-Pennington was recently named the winner of the 2020 Nakata Brophy Prize, organised by Overland magazine. The Nakata Brophy Short Fiction and Poetry Prize recognises the talent of young Indigenous writers across Australia. Sponsored by the University of Melbourne’s Trinity College, the prize alternates each year between fiction and poetry; in 2020, the prize was for the best poem (up to eighty-eight lines) by an Indigenous writer under thirty. We are pleased to republish Grace’s winning poem, ‘Superposition’.

places and towers shed birds like skin crowds swerve, bend ears, listen:

(there was always life before you as there is always life after you you have never been the first, or only)

– an old story.

and like a tree dragged upright, this roar shunts a world somewhere deep stone stratum cracks, unfastens earth-strong membranes wave functions collapse potentialities formerly certified stable cohere no more

corrode

diffract

certain stories are fences / certain stories are seeds gauche bylines slop our troughs to brimming [gonna destroy im] adamant fencers clinging to zero-sum [fabrication realhistory] mainlining militant indignant feeds maddened erupt [madeitup fraudster notfarmers] a vague relentless clouding morass [sowhatiftherewerehousesyoucouldntinventthewheel] overwhelm civil semblance [savages] two positions, superimposed [You can’t just

rewrite

history]

Grace Lucas-Pennington is a Bundjalung/European person living on Yugurapul land. She grew up mostly between Bundjalung country on the NSW north coast and the greater Logan/Brisbane area. Grace is currently the Editor for State Library of Queensland’s black&write!

Indigenous Writing and Project, and a Board Member of Byron Writers Festival. northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 09

Photo by Kurt Petersen

FEATURE

Mungo MacCallum at Byron Writers Festival 2019. Mungo received a standing ovation following a tribute to him from Kerry O’Brien.

A gentil knight: Vale Mungo MacCallum Local author and Byron Writers Festival Life Member Russell Eldridge pays tribute to the much-loved journalist, author, commentator and crossword compiler Mungo MacCallum, who died on 9 December 2020, aged seventy-eight.

The recent passing of Mungo MacCallum was not only a loss to Australia’s political commentary, but also to the Northern Rivers community and to the Byron Writers Festival.

Mungo was straight out of the blocks at the inaugural Festival in 1997, and was a continuing and valuable presence until time and illness caught up with him.

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Successive directors and board members recall his suggestions and help, and thousands of Festival participants have snorted, nodded, shaken their heads and gasped through his contributions as a panellist and moderator.

He wanted always to be in the thick of things, even from the audience.

Many would recall question times when a Fidel Castro-like figure at

the back of the tent would shamble up, reach for the public microphone and remind panellists of the error of their ways.

One memorable evening at a Festival event in the Byron Community Centre, Germaine Greer was promoting her book Shakespeare’s Wife, when a hand went up in the audience. Germaine squinted into the dark: ‘Mungo!’ she

FEATURE

exclaimed, ‘they told me you were dead!’

‘Much exaggerated,’ he drawled, then proceeded to deliver a quick refresher on Elizabethan history.

Germaine stared open-mouthed.

‘The gilded child doth lecture in my sight,’ she muttered.

Undeterred, Mungo completed his dissertation and allowed Germaine to continue.

I’m pleased to say that the Byron Writers Festival has decided to honour Mungo with a new political discussion panel in his name.

Apart from his reportage and commentary, Mungo produced a swag of political books and essays.

Drawing on his phenomenal memory and ability to crystallise information, he wrote rapidly.

During elections, he would type on the run, turning in page after page of beautiful, incisive prose and insight to his publisher. Within a day or two of the outcome, he would hand in his last thoughts, and the book was ready for the presses.

I first encountered Mungo’s writing more than forty years ago when moonlighting as a casual sub- editor in Sydney. A new immigrant, I was gobsmacked by this avenging angel with a bloodied pen, smiting hypocrites, scoundrels and Tories – which to Mungo were all one and the same.

Coming from apartheid South Africa, I marvelled. How did he get away with it? Why wasn’t he in jail? Later, I learnt that it is the very vigorous, bold and unrelenting questioning of our leaders by writers like Mungo MacCallum that help keep democracy fresh and accountable in Australia.

But it wasn’t empty vitriol and bluster that emanated from Mungo’s pen: he was preternaturally

informed, icily clear in his thinking, blessed with wit, and he would not back down to assuage a deflated ego or shattered argument. This too I discovered after he and his wife Jenny had left Canberra, and I interviewed him on the verandah at Ocean Shores. The lesson was, for anyone debating Mungo on politics: don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.

And if the gods took pity and allowed you a point in the discussion, he’d smile gracefully and incline his head, leaving it up to you to decide whether you’d scored a hit or you just didn’t get it.

It was the same with his glorious cryptic crosswords: if you didn’t know that Hawke was a stand-in for the word Bob, you’d better switch to the simple crossword.

True to having the last word, Mungo compiled a backlog of crosswords so that, even in death, he would continue to delight, perplex and exasperate readers of the Echo for a while yet.

But what struck me on getting to know Mungo was the personal humility, kindness and generosity of this formidable keyboard warrior. He had the grace of a Chaucerian ‘gentil knight’ but one on a remorseless quest to slay those who would place private greed over the public good.

He also had a deep love of Australia; its institutions and its people, with a particular respect for Indigenous Australians. And that passion extended to the natural world, in his travels with Jenny, or in the simple pleasure of returning from the Mullumbimby orchid show with a new specimen.

limits of ‘St James’ Infirmary’, while Lloyd and his combo played on?

A man in full.

And Neville Wran misread masculinity when he said Balmain boys don’t cry. A strong man does cry, and I’ve seen Mungo shed a tear over a beloved dog or a dear friend.

Mungo’s passions and acuity did not diminish as his health declined. In the early days after the loss of his voice to throat cancer, Mungo would scribble thoughts and ripostes on a ready-to-hand notebook. But the comments became more laconic, his ideas distilled to shorthand, until much of the world and its shenanigans could be expressed in just three gestures, a Caesar-like thumbs up or down, or a wavering hand for nuance.

But the smile, the graciousness and the keen eye never wavered.

A brilliant, forceful, kind man. A comrade.

A special acknowledgment to another great friend of the Festival, Mungo’s wife, Jenny Garrett. A woman of great love and strength, Jenny devoted the last half-dozen years, plus many others, to caring for Mungo.

We miss him, but we’re the better for knowing him, and the ripples of Mungo’s life will expand for years to come.

And who could forget the dreamy summer afternoons on St Mungo’s Day when our man would take the microphone and test the vocal

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 11

READ

Extract: Growing Up Disabled in Australia Growing Up Disabled in Australia is the fifth book in the critically acclaimed and bestselling Growing Up series, published by Black Inc. This anthology features more than forty writers sharing the story of their experience with disability or chronic illness. Here, we present the book’s introduction by its editor, the writer and appearance activist Carly Findlay OAM.

Like some of the other contributors to this anthology, I didn’t grow up disabled. Even though I have a severe lifelong skin condition, I rejected the term ‘disabled’ because I thought it had negative connotations and I didn’t see how it related to me.

The only time I saw disabled people in the media was when they competed in the Paralympics, or when a tabloid TV show was painting their life as a tragedy. And I didn’t see anyone like me. I thought disability looked a certain way. And I didn’t fit that.

Because I didn’t identify as disabled, I wasn’t able to advocate for the support I needed in school, nor recognise or speak up against discrimination towards other disabled people. In hindsight, it’s clear that I had internalised ableism. By insisting I wasn’t disabled, I was perpetuating the ‘othering’.

And I lacked a sense of pride and community.

It wasn’t until I was in my mid-twenties, when I mentored young people with chronic illness, that I realised how much we had in common – serious lifelong conditions that required many specialists at the hospital, extended absences from school and work, and encountering attitudinal barriers from ignorance or discrimination. These young people allowed me to work through that internalised ableism and showed me that I could embrace the term ‘disabled’.

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I began writing publicly about life with ichthyosis, which led to work in the mainstream media and presenting on a disability-led TV show called No Limits.

I got to know more chronically ill and disabled people and came to understand the social model of disability.

This model acknowledges the physical, attitudinal, communication and social barriers faced by people with impairments. It challenges these obstacles by arguing that society should accommodate impairment as an expected aspect of human diversity. I felt safe to embrace the label of ‘disabled’ because of the writing and friendship of other disabled people. And this meant I could finally advocate for myself and for others.

I now identify as a proud disabled woman, not wanting to hide my disability and chronic illness. And I want to help be the change in the media, so that young disabled people can see themselves and what’s possible for them.

I hope that this book can be a friend to people who need it, because it’s a friend I needed when I was younger.

This book will change history. It’s the first of its kind in Australia. And I hope it won’t be the last. Publishers – both literary and news – need to commit to publishing work by disabled people. We deserve better representation in literature.

READ

From 2010 to 2014, Stella Young edited ABC Ramp Up. It was a place for disabled people to write about our own experiences, advocate for policy change and celebrate disability pride. The government defunded it in 2014, and there hasn’t been a dedicated place for Australian disability writing online since. While Growing Up Disabled in Australia has a finite number of stories and will never replace Ramp Up, I am glad to have helped provide a writing space for disabled people to tell their stories. I am forever thankful for Stella’s work, and I read and reference her writing regularly.

We had over 360 submissions to Growing Up Disabled in Australia. It was such an honour reading through the submissions – one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. The quality of writing is extraordinary, and there is a definite hunger from disabled people to tell their stories (and to read the stories of others).

regional and rural regions and Aboriginal communities.

They span generations – some are elders and some are still growing up – and genders, cultures and sexualities.

Not everyone in the book sees disability as part of their identity, but some are waving the pride flag loudly; both responses are valid. Some people have chosen to use a pseudonym, such is the stigma or fear of speaking out about disability.

I hope this book creates a sense of identity, pride and belonging to a community – for the contributors and for readers.

I can’t wait to see these writers fly.

Choosing the contributors was a hard task – I wish we could have included many more. I’m proud of everyone who submitted and encourage those who didn’t get into this anthology to keep writing and find other opportunities for their work.

This anthology shows the diversity of disability – not just in terms of impairments, but also experiences. I took an intersectional approach when selecting the work. The people in this book are disabled, chronically ill, mentally ill and neurodiverse, and inhabit the city,

Growing Up Disabled in Australia is available now.

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 13

Photo by Susan Lynch.

INTERVIEW

Paul-bearer: Biographer Stuart Coupe interviewed Veteran music journalist Stuart Coupe’s wide-ranging and frank biography of the Australian singer-songwriter Paul Kelly, Paul Kelly: The Man, The Music and the Life in Between, represents an important new work in Australian music writing. Here, Stuart chats about the journey to publication, dealing with an icon, and the art of writing biography.

How did the idea of writing a biography of Paul Kelly first emerge? He’s a man with whom you have a long history.

Paul was the very first interview I ever did! Way back in the 1970s when he was with the High Rise Bombers and I was thinking about embarking on a life of writing about music. We became friendly – not close – but in that easy relationship

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journalists and artists can have.

Then after Paul made that muchmythologised fourteen-hour trip on the bus from St Kilda to Kings Cross, he called me up and asked if I’d like to meet. At the end of that chat in the pub near my office in Kings Cross, I was his manager – something I did until the end of the 1980s. Then we parted ways – as friends – and believe it or not had

virtually no contact for more than two decades before meeting up when I was well advanced on the writing of my book.

How easy was access to Paul and was he as open as you needed?

I had pestered his manager every six months for a few years about the idea of a book – as I figured sooner or later someone would write one

INTERVIEW

and I figured I was the person to do it – before Paul, via his manager, gave his blessing to me doing the book. In other words, he didn’t discourage people from talking to me. He agreed to do a couple of interviews towards the end of the project. By the time we met up I’d talked to seventy or eighty people.

We did one interview at the Domain before a Gravy show, some more in Tamworth during the country music festival then more in Sydney and on Skype. He seemed to enjoy the chats so kept volunteering more, which I was very appreciative of.

And he answered everything I asked directly and without saying anything was off limits.

What key decisions did you find yourself having to make about the style and tone of the book?

The main thing was not to replicate Paul’s own very fine memoir. I looked for points of difference and decided that my book would be what his first-person account couldn’t be – the voices of everyone around him, with his observations on top of that. I didn’t re-read Paul’s book or really look at the mountain of press he’s had. I talked to people and let those conversations dictate the story. And in the end Paul’s book is 600 pages, mine is 350 and there’s very little overlap!

How did this book present challenges that your previous books did not?

The only difference was that my subject had written a book already!

There are a lot of voices in all my books so I had once again to juggle that. Some of the material was pretty confrontational so I had to decide what was in the public interest and what wasn’t – what added to the story and what was, in many cases, inaccurate or

sometimes scurrilous gossip told by people who had told the same yarns so many times over the decades that I think they actually believed they were true.

What can you tell us about how Paul received the book, was he happy?

Despite having no obligation to show it to Paul before publication, I decided to, and of course was extremely nervous. When I offered him the chance to read it he said that he didn’t expect to like it all, because if he did I hadn’t done my job. He called after reading about half of it and said he found the first 180 pages very confronting, but didn’t have an issue with what I’d said. He finished it and said I’d done a really good job and became very involved with suggestions and additions, but at no point did he ask me to take anything out. There were a couple of things that I wouldn’t have fought hard about if he had asked – but to his credit he left the story as I’ve written it Can you outline some of the key skills, abilities and qualities that are essential for writing a biography of this kind?

You’ve got to love the subject as you spend a lot of time with them – even if it’s not in person. Talk to lots of people. Do your own interview transcriptions so you’re really listening to the voices of those you interview. Don’t look at the big picture as it’ll seem too daunting.

Just chisel away. Write like you talk.

publications and online. You just have to look hard for it. I think we lack great editors who can teach, coax and cajole great writing out of journalists. I’ve had one in particular – the late Anthony O’Grady – and some others who’ve pushed me and I’m grateful to them all. I had a great editor on this book too. I think there needs to be more perspective, more independence from corporate structures and more thinking – plus better writing.

You also have a track record as a crime fiction critic – is this something you still do, and what other writing projects might be on the horizon?

I stopped writing about crime fiction a long time ago – sort of when I started to think every crime fiction novel was being written by the same person! I still read it from time to time and return to the classics.

There’s a lot of great writing with criminality at its core coming out of Mexico so I read a lot of that. I’ve finished a book with Jane Clifton on Australia in the 1970s through 100 45’s – we did fifty each and that will be out this year. And I’m tinkering with a book about airline pilots.

Seriously. BS

How do you view the state of music journalism in Australia generally in 2021, is it in good health?

Music journalism in the mainstream has been in pretty bad shape for a long time. But there’s still some great stuff in mainstream

Paul Kelly: The Man, The Music and the Life in Between is published by Hachette Australia.

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 15

FEATURE

From the Reading Chair: What’s in a name?

Local Northern Rivers editor and all-round writing guru Laurel Cohn continues her regular column by examining the questions and conundrums around naming your characters when writing fiction.

Recently I did something I’ve never done before – I gave up on a novel in the early chapters because of the characters’ names. Mina, short for Jasmina, shared a house with Jemima. I thought it was a bit ‘cute’ for two young women with such similar names to end up living together, but kept turning the pages. Then a minor character introduced her son Jason and husband Mason, shortly followed by her other son Justin. Was this tongue-in-cheek? Perhaps. Was the writer being playful about rhythm, rhyme and alliteration? Perhaps.

But I found myself dislodged from the fictional world, thinking about why the writer had made those choices; I was no longer in the story itself. Was my disbelief harsh? Perhaps. We know truth can be stranger than fiction, but this was fiction and a stark reminder of how important characters’ names can be.

important role in this. If you have a character called Carla and another called Carinne, it may be hard for the reader to remember who is who. Varying the starting letter, the number of syllables and the vowel and consonant sounds makes it easier for readers to differentiate between characters. I see a quite a lot of manuscripts with unnecessary assonance (Jason and Mason) and consonance (Jason and Justin) across names. It can be helpful to recite a list of your characters aloud and use your ears to flag any potential issues with similarities that may distract or confuse readers. Better still, get someone else to read that list aloud to you and listen to how a reader hears those names. There may be good reasons why you want names to sound similar; that’s fine, as long as this is a conscious choice and you understand the drawbacks.

Names as sounds and shapes

The sound and shape of a name also has a texture that can enhance characterisation. Think of the difference between short, sharp names such as Victor or Kit, and softer, more relaxed names such as Jeremy or Leilani. How does the sound of your names relate to the characters’ personalities? Nicknames are all about sound and shape and can add colour to a character, either shortening or lengthening the name in an informal way. Be careful, however, about using too many different names for the one character; this can be confusing to a reader.

Reading silently is a curiously auditory experience; we ‘hear’ words in our heads as we ingest them with our eyes. This is why we notice alliteration and rhyme on the page. It is also why we may stumble over a name that seems difficult to pronounce, either because it is from an unfamiliar language, such as Tsetsilya (Russian), or because it is a fantastical name that throws letters together in unconventional ways, such as Grxzlatimn. And it is also why there are plenty of readers out there who can’t quite shake the idea that Hermione is pronounced ‘her-me-own’ rather than ‘her-my-ohknee’.

As readers, we enter a story expecting to meet unfamiliar characters. It is the writer’s job to introduce these characters in a way that allows readers to see their individuality and track their separate trajectories through the narrative. The sound of a name plays an 16 | AUTUMN 2021 northerly

Names as signifiers Of course there’s more to a name than shape and sound. Names are powerful signifiers of identity.

Embedded within a name can be indicators of ethnicity, class, social group, era, religion and gender. Think of the difference between Montgomery and Dave, or Alexandra and Candy; Thembani and Juan, or Rosalind and Aiko.

FEATURE

Names are chosen by parents, so in deciding the best fit for your character, consider their parents’ background and the era. A character called Harmony may be the 1970s progeny of hippy parents; Augustine is likely to have Catholic heritage; Marley might grow up in a house filled with reggae music; and Philomena is from another time.

We make assumptions, sometimes unconscious, about characters based purely on their name. This happened to me when I was reading a manuscript last year. Set in 1950s Australia, the central character was a Jewish teenage girl from an immigrant family whose best friend was Joel, the boy next door. It wasn’t until late in the manuscript that it became clear that Joel wasn’t Jewish, and that I had assumed he was, simply because of the name. I did a quick search on popular boys’ names in 1940s Australia and quite high on the list was Kevin, which seemed like a better fit for that character.

Once I had replaced Joel with Kevin in my head, his relationship with the girl next door and his teenage attitudes and behaviours made so much more sense.

I flagged to the writer that she might like to rethink Joel’s name, explaining the erroneous assumption I had made. I didn’t offer any suggestions as I wanted to give her the freedom to find a different name without influencing her. After all, writers have parents’ naming rights over their characters.

Like parents, some writers sometimes get very attached to the names they give their characters, and may not be open to changing them at someone else’s behest. That can be a good thing if you have strong reasons for the

names you have chosen. One writer friend pushed back on a suggestion from her editor to change the names of three key characters. She held on to her original vision and her characters’ names ended up being a talking point in reviews of what was to become a bestseller.

Perhaps the writer of the book I abandoned also argued the toss with her editor and had good reason to stick with her choices.

On the flip side, sometimes changing a character’s name suddenly opens up a new understanding for the writer of who that character is, which can significantly improve the work. The writer of that 1950s story rang me shortly after receiving my feedback to say that once it was pointed out to her, she totally agreed that Joel wasn’t the right name. She had quickly settled on a new name that fitted much better: Kevin!

Laurel Cohn is a developmental book editor passionate about communication and the power of stories in our lives. She has been helping writers prepare their work for publication since the mid-1980s, and is a popular workshop presenter. She has a PhD in literary and cultural studies. laurelcohn.com.au

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 17

FEATURE

Abused, neglected, abandoned: did Roald Dahl hate children as much as the witches did?

In an article first published by The Conversation, Kate Cantrell, India Bryce and Jessica Gildersleeve of the University of Southern Queensland examine how Roald Dahl’s characterisation of children as vulnerable is necessary for them to ultimately triumph.

Described as ‘the world’s greatest storyteller’, Roald Dahl is frequently ranked as the best children’s author of all time by teachers, authors and librarians.

However, the new film adaptation of Dahl’s controversial book, The Witches, warrants a fresh look at a recurrent contrast in Dahl’s work: child protection and care on one hand and a preoccupation with child-hatred, including child neglect and abuse, abandonment, and torture on the other.

Dahl himself once admitted he simultaneously admired and envied children. While his stories spotlight children’s vulnerability to trauma, his child protagonists show how childhood can be an isolating but ultimately triumphant experience.

Anti-child or child-centred?

While Dahl’s fans champion his ‘child-centredness’ – arguing that anarchy and vulgarity are central to childhood – Dahl’s critics have ventured to suggest his work contains anti-child messages.

In Dahl’s fiction, children are often described unfavourably: they are ‘stinkers’, ‘disgusting little blisters’, ‘vipers’, ‘imps’, ‘spoiled brats’, ‘greedy little thieves’, ‘greedy brutes’, ‘robber-bandits’, ‘ignorant little twits’, ‘nauseating little warts’, ‘witless weeds’, and ‘moth-eaten maggots’.

With the exception of Bruce Bogtrotter, ‘bad’ children are usually unpleasant gluttons who are punished for being spoiled or overweight. Augustus Gloop is ostracised because of his size. After he tumbles into Willy Wonka’s chocolate river and is sucked up the glass pipe, he’s physically transformed. ‘He used to be fat,’ Grandpa Joe marvels. ‘Now he’s as thin as straw!’

18 | AUTUMN 2021 northerly

From Miss Trunchbull to the Twits, Aunts Spiker and Sponge, and even Willy Wonka, many of Dahl’s adult characters are merciless figures who enjoy inflicting physical and emotional pain on children.

In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Wonka not only orchestrates the various ‘accidents’ that occur at the factory, but he stands by indifferently as each child suffers.

In Wonka’s determination to make the ‘rotten ones’ pay for their moral failings, he not only humiliates the children (and their parents), but permanently marks the ‘bad’ children through physical disfigurement. When gum-chewing champion Violet Beauregarde turns purple, Wonka is indifferent. ‘Ah well,’ he says. ‘There’s nothing we can do about that’.

Red-hot sizzling hatred The Witches is centred around the theme of childhatred.

‘Real witches,’ we are told, ‘hate children with a red-hot sizzling hatred that is more sizzling and red-hot than any hatred you could possibly imagine’. At their hands (or claws), young children are not only mutilated but exterminated.

Indeed, the ultimate goal of The Grand High Witch is filicide: she plans to rid the world of children – ‘disgusting little carbuncles’ – by tricking them into eating chocolate laced with her malevolent Formula 86: Delayed Action Mouse-Maker.

‘Witches! They’re real. And they hate children!’ The trailer for Warner Brothers’ new adaptation of the children’s classic.

In The Witches, as in many of Dahl’s fictions for children

FEATURE

Roald Dahl in 1954, photographed by Carl Van Vechten. Source: Wikimedia Commons

(he also wrote adult erotica), authoritarian figures are revealed as bigoted and hypocritical, or violent and sadistic. Primary caregivers are neglectful or absent.

So the real threats to the child protagonists of The Witches, Matilda and James and The Giant Peach are not monsters under the bed, but adults whose hatred of children is disguised behind a mask of benevolence.

In The Witches, the young narrator initially finds comfort in the fact he has encountered such ‘splendid ladies’ and ‘wonderfully kind people’, but soon the facade crumbles.

‘Down with children!’ he overhears the witches chant.

‘Do them in! Boil their bones and fry their skin! Bish them, sqvish them, bash them, mash them!’

Necessary evil Although the violence present in Dahl’s work can be easily perceived as morbid, antagonism towards children is a necessary part of Dahl’s project.

The initial disempowerment of the child lays the groundwork for the ‘underdog’ narrative. It allows downtrodden children to emerge victorious by outwitting their tormentors through their resourcefulness and a little magic.

Initially, violence is used to reinforce the initial ‘victimhood’ of the child, then it is repurposed in the latter stages of each tale to punish and overcome the perpetrator of the mistreatment.

James’s wicked aunts get their comeuppance when they’re squashed by the giant peach. In The BFG, kidnapped orphan Sophie emerges as the unlikely hero, saving herself and exerting a positive influence on her captor.

In Taika Waititi’s reading of James and the Giant Peach, the spinster aunts are played by the Hemsworth brothers.

Dahl’s fiction is perhaps considered dangerous for a different reason: it takes children seriously.

The author dispenses humour alongside his descriptions of violence to create a less threatening atmosphere for young readers. Children revel in the confronting depictions even while being shocked or repulsed. Dahl – perhaps drawing on childhood trauma of his own – creates a cathartic outlet for children to release tension through laughter, especially at situations that may tap into the reader’s experiences of helplessness.

Such fiction provides children a means of empowerment. Seeing themselves reflected in literature can be an important part of a child’s processing of adversity.

Dahl’s work raises important questions about the safety of children, encouraging them to find their power in the most disempowering situations.

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 19

REVIEW

The cloak of memory Stone Sky Gold Mountain

By Mirandi Riwoe Review by Jenny Bird

Stone Sky Gold Mountain shines light on a dark, littletold corner of Australia’s frontier history. Set in 1877, it takes us to the hot, humid goldfields of Far North Queensland where Chinese miners outnumber ‘white’ miners by four or five to one. We experience not only the race and gender violence of the frontier, but the dreams, friendships and kindnesses that sustain life and offer hope in a harsh world.

and fault lines. Gambling and opium offer salves to wounded souls and aching bodies, driving some to destruction. And there is the ambiguous role of the Sip Yee tong, the syndicate that organises the Chinese miners, and to whom they are beholden. Yet, like all oppressed communities, they look after each other from within with small kindnesses and loyalties, secrets held, and plots hatched.

In November 2020, Stone Sky Gold Mountain won the inaugural ARA Historical Novel Prize from a competitive field of over 185 novels, and against a longlist of eight that included Christos Tsiolkas’s Damascus and Tara June Winch’s The Yield. The judges described Stone Sky Gold Mountain as both intimate and epic, and as a novel that ‘weaves emotions within the scaffold of history’.

There are no Chinese women on the goldfields and Ying must disguise herself as a boy. Her breasts are, after all, ‘no bigger than shrimp dumplings’. The few European women who live in nearby Maytown are, as Anne Summers coined, either damned whores or God’s police – the morally irredeemable or the patrolling respectable. We meet Meriem from Queanbeyan and her boss Sophie, both with reproductive histories that have banished them to the margins of white society.

They are single and vulnerable, too easily caught in the cross hairs of the lawless white men with their guns and their horses.

We meet brother and sister Lai Cheng and Ying, who are desperate to amass a quick fortune, return to China, and restore their broken family. We discover an Australian frontier more culturally complex than we may previously have understood. On these goldfields there is a hierarchy of power and violence where the Chinese inhabit a marginalised middle ground between white men and Indigenous Australians. The Chinese are not allowed to own guns. They must bear witness to, and be complicit in, the lawless violence and murder of local Yalanji people, who are an everpresent threat, both real and imagined.

The Chinese community is not without its own flaws 20 | AUTUMN 2021 northerly

Riwoe draws us quickly into the interior worlds of Lai Cheng and Ying. We become intimately absorbed in their Chinese point of view, their Chinese voice. They struggle with the visceral shock of the tropical heat, the strange landscape, the hunger and the hard work.

But their interior landscape, their emotional reference points, their imaginations, remain firmly in China.

Riwoe, with a finely tuned attention to sensory detail, invites us to empathise with their displacement and

REVIEW

disorientation. When, for example, Ying looks at the Palmer River she sees that ‘[t]he river is the colour of her mother’s pork and lettuce soup, but it smells of mud and decaying tea tree leaves.’

It is the facility to explore the interior experience of characters that distinguishes historical fiction from history. ‘It brings people out of history and sets them beside you at the table –whispering, laughing, fearful,’ writes Crystal King for Literary Hub. Riwoe said in her acceptance speech for the ARA award, ‘historical fiction has a special place in my heart because it allows me to explore people who are ignored in their own time.’

In so doing we can reach back across time, and in this case culture, and establish empathy with people we may not have ever considered.

Historical fiction also links the past with the present and asks us to ponder what, if anything, has changed.

In an interview with Astrid Edwards for the State Library of Victoria, Riwoe speaks of how she has tried to show how the systems and structures of racism and gender violence were laid down back then and still exist today.

She said she was ‘trying to show that many of the white folk were as new to the land as the Chinese were but were already the lawmakers and the gatekeepers to this country that wasn’t theirs.’

Reading Stone Sky Gold Mountain whet my curiosity about the Chinese experience in Australia, and I headed off to the historical record. I did not know, just as Lai Cheng and Ying could not have known, that they

had arrived at the peak of the last gold rush in eastern Australia. Nor could they have known that by the time they arrived, anti-Chinese resentment had boiled over into violent riots and attacks on Chinese miners in Victoria and NSW. Nor that laws had been passed designed specifically to restrict Chinese immigration, laws that later formed the basis of the Immigration Restriction Act 1901 – one of the first acts passed after Federation and the foundation of the White Australia Policy.

Stone Sky Gold Mountain was published in 2020 in the middle of a year marked by heightened tensions between Australia and China. During that year, the Acting Immigration Minister Alan Tudge made the following statement: ‘Australia has welcomed migrants from China for more than 200 years.’ When Riwoe says ‘social memory is cloaked’, this is what she means.

But there is a zeitgeist currently at play that is pulling back this particular cloak. Through film, television, memoir, history and historical fiction early Chinese Australian history is emerging into the light of day. We are being asked to learn and reflect on the past and the present – not only our relationship with China but our relationship with Chinese-Australians and their place in our national identity.

University of Queensland Press / 264pp / RRP $29.99

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 21

REVIEWS

What YA Reading?

Reviews by Polly Jude

friends hate him? How will he tell Mum? Jackson deals with his problems in the only way he knows how: with violence.

When it seems like all is lost for the lads, Jackson and Tomas find connection with Country and culture through their Men’s Group. Along the banks of the river, amongst the Elders and the other young men from the Mish, Jackson learns that the years of friendship and shared memories far outweigh the fear.

The Boy From the Mish

By Gary Lonesborough Seventeen-year-old Jackson is enjoying a long, hot summer on the Mish. He’s hanging out with mates, heading to parties with his girlfriend and trying to avoid the racist cops and locals in town. But like usual, trouble soon comes looking for Jackson.

When his aunty and cousins arrive for Christmas, they bring Tomas.

He’s a troubled youth who has just been release from juvey.

Tomas and Jackson quickly become friends. Their relationship leaves Jackson questioning everything he thought he knew about himself.

And the secrets he’s tried to hide are soon revealed.

Jackson is scared he might lose everything – family, friends, community. His place in all he’s ever known is questioned. What if his 22 | AUTUMN 2021 northerly

The Boy From the Mish is beautifully written.

Lonesborough deals with issues such as racism, homophobia, friendship, family and acceptance. Each of these issues is presented with care. There are heart-warming moments and heart-breaking moments in The Boy From the Mish. Some younger YA readers may find the harsh realities of institutionalised racism confronting for its honesty and realistic representation. While at the same time, there is beauty in the connecting with Country.

As Lonesborough’s first YA novel, The Boy From the Mish, is funny, haunting, brave and well worth the attention it is getting in literary circles.

It will appeal to older YA readers and those exploring their own sexuality. Enjoy this one before letting the kids have a read.

Allen and Unwin / 400 pp / RRP $19.99

Tiger Daughter

By Rebecca Lim

Wen Zhou wants a better life for herself. She looks at her mother, trapped in the traditional ways, and she wants more for herself. She wants more for both of them.

But that’s not easy when your father is a domineering, controlling, dangerous man who oversees every aspect of both Wen and her mother’s lives.

When her best friend’s mother suddenly dies, Wen wants to help Henry. But her father’s traditional Chinese background won’t allow them to support. Wen risks everything to help Henry.

For the first time in her life, Wen and her mum work together to help Henry and take control of their own lives.

This book explores issues such as domestic abuse, Chinese culture, mental health and friendship. Tiger Daughter will appeal to most YA readers.

Allen and Unwin / 224pp / RRP $16.99

FEATURE

Points of view: Opinions on opinion writing Ahead of her Byron Writers Festival workshop on the subject, local writer Vivienne Pearson introduces the fine art of opinion writing, and offers a preview of what to expect on the day.

Did you know that anyone can have their opinion published in The Sydney Morning Herald?

probably the last person to voluntarily sign up for an argument or debate.

I submitted my first opinion piece in 2015, inspired by seeing other nonexperts penning original, topical and thought-provoking pieces.

This makes me question why I write opinion pieces. Certainly, I’m not in it for the money. (Most publications do pay but not a huge amount and, though I do make my living from writing, opinion pieces are only one of the types of writing I do).

I’ve since had a dozen more published by The Sydney Morning Herald, as well as others with The Guardian and ABC online. My most recent one – on the topic of the age that children start school – was published just a couple of days ago (as I write).

Opinion writing has been a feature of the news media landscape for some time – since 1970 in The New York Times. Opinion sections are often referred to as ‘op-eds’. You might reasonably assume that the ‘op’ in ‘op-ed’ is an abbreviation of ‘opinion’, but it is not.

Rather, ‘op-ed’ is a short version of ‘opposite editorial’, the name given to the section of a newspaper put aside for views and opinions, as opposed to editorial (the views of the paper’s editors) and hard news (reported news of the day).

After having opinion pieces published on topics as diverse as AFL, school fundraising, gender equality, the four-day working week, Harry Potter, and the idea of ‘post-holiday resolutions’, it’s pretty obvious that I’m someone who isn’t short of an opinion.

Yet, I’m not generally seen as an opinionated person and I’m

For me, opinion writing is about helping me make sense of a topic and crystalise my views. Some of my pieces have been decades in the making and, at other times, I form an opinion rapidly in response to a news item or personal experience.

Ultimately, I feel fortunate to be able express my views in a way that contributes to public debate.

Admittedly, the odds of having an opinion piece published are not high. I’ve had my fair share of disappointments, including emails not responded to, editors expressing interest but unable to find the space, promises of publication only to be disappointed.

Most opinion desks receive dozens of submissions per day for the couple of spots available. But success is feasible, especially if you are prepared to approach your writing differently from other styles you might have mastered.

Every time I submit an opinion piece, I go through a whole range of emotions. I get passionate about the issue, absorbed in the writing and worried that I’ll be too late or

that my email will never be opened.

When a piece is accepted, I am worried that another event will see my piece bumped, nervous as it goes to print, thrilled to see my by-line, and happy that another opinion has made it from my Word document to the public arena.

As media moves online and morphs into the social realm, opinions are more common than ever. Perhaps too common, you might say, if you frequent Facebook, Twitter or online comment sections. Yet, we seem to have an insatiable need for insights and commentary on current events.

It is becoming increasingly important for academics (who traditionally have been encouraged to hold back personal views) and leaders in the business world to be able to clearly express their opinion on their topics of expertise.

Some people are critical of the ‘opinion-isation’ of our news but the rigour in the selection and editing of respected newspaper op-eds means that opinion pieces offer meaningful contributions to our understanding and discussion of the issues of the day.

I wonder - do you have an opinion that you’d love to see out there in the world?

Vivienne Pearson is a freelance writer published by The Sydney Morning Herald, The Saturday Paper, The Guardian, ABC, SBS, Atlas Obscura, the good old Byron Shire Echo and more. She will share her knack, knowledge and tips for getting opinion pieces published in a workshop on Saturday 20 March.

viviennepearson.com

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 23

READ

Susie Warrick Young Writers Award 2020: The runners-up Susie Warrick was a much-loved staff member at Northern Rivers Writers’ Centre (now Byron Writers Festival). The Susie Warrick Young Writers Award was established to honour her memory, celebrate the art of the short story, and support emerging young writers in furthering their career.

In the previous issue of northerly we published the winners from the 2020 competition, and now we are delighted to published the runners-up across the three categories.

Protectors of the Outback

By Josephine Payne Equal-first runner-up, Category 1 School years 5-6 The four hooded figures tiptoed discreetly through the Australian Outback. The red sand hiding the homes of countless critters. The first silhouette bounced to the rocky meeting place, the second was a large figure standing on two long legs with three talons on the end which ran swiftly to the boulders, the third was quite small and slowly lumbered over while the fourth trotted slyly as her four paws left prints on the desert floor. They all stopped at a rocky ring at the back of the infamous overgrown rock.

hardly started meeting.

‘G’day!’ the fourth whispered. The darkness shielded them from view for now, but it would be dawn soon and the four figures would have to hide from the dangers lying in wait for them in the blazing sun.

‘My apologies, Eddie. Furless and featherless,’ Dinah corrected herself as her bushy tail wagged impatiently.

‘I’d still classify it as night, Dinah,’ the third pointed out timidly.

‘Does it really matter, Em? Technically it is day, or early morning.’ The second looked at his surroundings before returning his attention back to the people in front of him. The first nodded along, eager to finish the 24 | AUTUMN 2021 northerly

Dinah got the meeting back on track, ‘Dodger, how many furless beasts have been climbing Uluru today?

Get it? Uluroo? Kangaroo? You’re a kangaroo and I’m asking you about…’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get it, mate.’ Dodger folded his arms and balanced himself with his mighty tail.

‘A-hem?’ The second figure cleared his throat meaningfully.

‘The last count Thumper and me got… ’ ‘Thumper and I, Dodger, Thumper and I,’ Em tutted at the lack of grammar taught to Aussie animals these days.

‘No, you weren’t there, Em. Anyway, we counted a hundred and eighty-two thingumabobs,’ Dodger clarified.

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Dinah’s dingo eyes lit up with relief. ‘Splendid! Those beastly Sand Slitherers won’t come with that letter… ’

‘Don’t you dare call me that, you criminal,’ Dinah’s smile was replaced with a look of pure anger.

‘Number!’ Em checked her spines running down her back.

‘They’re called tents, Dinah,’ Em sighed.

Hisses and shrieks came from behind them, but Kingsley ignored them. Another screech was heard, and Kingsley whipped his head around, only to find his minions lying on the ground. Dead. As he turned back around, he became face to face with Whisky, a vicious Wedge Tail Eagle.

‘Whatever! All I’m saying is, the chance of the Sand Slitherers bothering us in the next couple of weeks is highly low,’ Dinah huffed.

‘Wesley! Waratah!’ Whisky yelled to the dawning sky.

Two young eagles swooped down and landed next to their father.

‘That doesn’t make sense, Dinah, don’t you mean very low?’ Em said.

‘New lesson kiddos, this one is called How to Catch and Kill a King Brown!’ Whisky grinned.

‘What were you ssssaying about ussss?’ A voice they didn’t want to hear hissed from behind them.

Dinah, Dodger, Eddie, Whisky, Wesley, Waratah and even Em went in for the attack with Whisky shouting instructions the whole time until nothing was left of Kingsley, King Brown Snake, leader of a criminal band called the Sand Slitherers, but a splash of blood and bone on the dusty desert floor.

‘Number of beasts setting up triangular hollow rocks everywhere,’ Dinah continued.

‘We’re about to get company!’ Eddie ruffled his dark grey feathers.

‘We realised, Mate,’ Dodger flexed his muscles and hopped from foot to foot.

‘How nice of you to join us, Kingsley,’ Dinah muttered through gritted teeth.

‘An Emu, Red Kangaroo, Albino Echidna and a Dingo can’t run from a clever band of ssssnakes lead by an amazing and clever King Brown!’ Kingsley chuckled.

‘That doesn’t mean we can’t defeat you!’ Em mustered up the courage to stand up for herself and her pals.

‘How adorable! A sssmall little monotreme trying to inssssult a King Brown, please!’ Kingsley burst into a mean cackle. ‘If you move any closer, you’ll feel my fist in the back of your neck,’ Dodger threatened.

‘Relax! You and your friends won’t be taken tonight, except perhaps that echidna, a crown of albino echidna spikes will look good and make people give me some respect. Great protection too!’ Kingsley grinned evilly.

The sun pierced the dark sky, sending out rays of warm sunlight and the animals bounced, ran, lumbered slowly and trotted back home, ready to blend in. The Sand Slitherers were gone, forever, but a new villain was fast approaching, one that would be much harder to defeat. Humans.

The kangaroo served a wooden plate up to his son, passing another one to his feathered mate who was also seated at the table. A four-pawed critter padded into the room.

‘You ready, Dodger, Eddie?’ it asked. ‘As we’ll ever be, Dinah,’ Dodger nodded.

The three walked out of the room, quickly joined by another small animal. ‘Let’s do this,’ Dinah cheered as the four ran to their stations, ready to protect the Australian Outback.

‘Back off, Kingsley, or I’ll use my beak to tear you to shreds,’ Eddie warned the King Brown Snake. A distant screech was heard overhead but only Dinah took notice of it. ‘Right on time, Whisky,’ she grinned to herself.

‘What are you smiling at, Dear Dingo?’ Kingsley asked.

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 25

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Susie Warrick Young Writers Award 2020: The runners-up

Reflection

By Cordelia Perritt Equal-first runner-up, Category 1 School years 5-6

The small, white feather settled on the clear water, setting ripples to either side of the puddle it was nestling in. SPLOSH! The serenity was shattered as a massive boot was brought down, making a huge splash and sending the feather up, up and away. The boot’s owner squealed with delight as the small, white object landed in her hand.

‘Look Mummy, I caught one,’ the little girl cried, proudly showing off the feather to her mother. Her mother just smiled. ‘One day, I’m going to find the bird that this belongs to and we’ll be best friends,’ she continued, gazing up at the darkening sky, searching for a sign of the bird of her friendship.

The years passed and as the little girl grew into a teenager, she forgot about the feather that had meant so much to her.

It was moving day and the not-so-little girl was nearly packed. As she picked up the last photo in its wooden frame, a white plume drifted down to the ground. As the girl glanced towards the flash of colour, a snowywhite dove flew past the window.

All of the girl’s memories came back in a rush. She remembered splashing in puddles. She remembered the happiness she felt when she caught the small, white feather on the palm of her hand. And she remembered vowing to find the bird that the feather belonged to.

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Her decision made, the girl raced down the stairs, tugging her coat on as she went. She slammed the door shut in her haste to keep up with the dove. She bolted through the street, slipping, sliding and crashing into people as she went. A dog barked at her, but she didn’t hear it. A man grabbed onto her, but she didn’t feel it.

The girl was intent on her rescue. Until she found that bird, nothing mattered. Until she found that bird, she was a different person.

Before long, the dove was at the park, and it stopped. As the girl got her breath back, she crept closer to the wildeyed bird. It was startled to see her, patiently waiting.

She half expected it to fly away. ‘I know you, I promised that we would be best friends.’ As she said those soothing words, her hand slid next to the quivering animal and for a split second, her hand brushed against the silky feathers before a shout from the nearby sport field sent the bird away.

The girl ran, chasing the white dove. Her hair blew in her face, slowing her down and making her stumble.

Then, the bird stopped in a tall tree. The girl climbed as fast as she could, her hands and feet finding grips in the rough bark. Before long, the girl was up in the tree, high above the ground. Her heart soared as she looked at the stunning view. This was where she belonged. As she looked into the dove’s eyes, the girl knew her real name.

Ali, ‘wings’, then she flew.

READ

That’s How I Found Myself

By Alessandra Wenban First runner-up, Category 2 School years 7-8 The smell of hay filled the air. A mix of wet mould and stenchy horses. I crept quietly, moving close to the ground until I reached the final stall. The height of the barn drew my eyes upwards, its wall cascading with frozen waterfalls of hay. Thin strips of light shone through the gaps in the timber walls and splayed out across the hay in bright lines that illuminated the barn in a dusty gloom.

Lennie lifted his droopy gaze as I shifted my mules closer. He moved like a child, flailing his arms frantically as he shoved a pile of hay over a lump on the ground. As he looked back up at me his face passed from the shadow an’ his eyes were now lit up by a single shaft of light.

I lifted my gaze an’ glanced over Lennie’s broad shoulder at the cluster of hay on the ground. My voice startled the stillness that hung through the barn, ‘What you got there, sonny boy?’ His eyes glistened up at me. They all got tha’ look. Ever since I moved to this farm. As if I’m a ticking bomb. Scared for their lives, they are. ‘Cause I’m Curley’s and that’s that. I don’t blame ‘em. Curley gets so angry. Can’t get a good conversation goin’ before he comes and drags me back like a disobedient dog. Can’t talk to nobody.

Jus’ meant to stay at home an’ cook an’ clean an’ wait. My voice rose as I told Lennie this, my words only disappearing into the hay as they had never been heard or said by anybody.

Eventually my wandering gaze returned to the lump of hay. Lennie’s face drew up in concentration when I questioned him. It was only a pup, but he was so upset, blubberin’ like a child. I’ve never really wanted children. I had my life set out. Life in the ‘pitchers’ never included children an’ my mother made it pretty obvious that they were useless anyway. Then I married Curley, an’ he’s too busy living up to being the boss, an’ a big guy like ‘is father to even think about having a family. Even though talkin’ to Lennie was like chattin’ to a piece of timber, it still felt nice to let the story slip from my mouth, just like I had rehearsed it a million times.

The ‘clang’ of horseshoes hitting metal rung from outside.

‘Somebody made a ringer,’ I exclaimed. The men outside yelled and stomped, their low voices bellowing through the walls of the barn. Lennie was oblivious

to the noise, ‘is mind set on George, their farm, dead pups an’ mice. He confessed about the place they’re gonna’ have with ‘a house an’ a garden’. I asked ‘im what makes ‘im so nuts ‘bout rabbits. He said he likes to pet sof’ things, rabbits an’ mice. He’s nuts, I tell you.

But he expanded an’ said, ‘I like to pet nice things with my fingers, sof’ things.’ This reminded me of the velvet an’ silk tha’ I had on my wedding gown. The only good thing I got that day. I can still recall the feeling of the material, so delicate, scrunched between my clammy fingers. This was never the life that I wanted. After my mother stole the letters, I met Curley at the Dance Palace an’ knew this was my only option. That’s how i foun’ myself dragging my feet down the aisle, draped in the most expensive material I will ever touch. That’s how I foun’ myself on this farm, with a husband who treats me as a possession an’ surrounded by men who know me as ‘Tart’ or ‘Curley’s’. Lennie loves velvet too, seems everyone got a story ‘bout velvet.

Lennie’s big childlike eyes rimmed with sorrow as he revealed that he’d lost a piece of velvet that he’d once owned. I felt awful for making ‘im upset again, just like a child. I wanted to comfort him so I showed him my hair. It was sof’ an’ freshly curled from this mornin’. I reached my petite hand down and lifted ‘is worn hand up to my hair. His hands were puckered with scars and years of work. I glanced out of the corner of my eye as he stroked the large rolls of hair that hung loosely by my face. He liked it a lot, his strokes becoming more an’ more aggressive as he exclaimed, ‘Oh! That’s nice.’

He was wrecking my hair now, grabbing it in fistfuls at a time. The sound of each tug thudding in my ears. I cried for him to stop an’ felt ‘is ginormous hands close over my now ratty loops of hair. A scream leapt from my throat an’ pierced through the barn. Lennie’s hand dumped across my face. A single shaft of light struck through my vision and plunged me into darkness. The smell of sweat an’ dirt smothered me. Panic jarred through my arms an’ legs. I began to fight against ‘is strength. My breath was urgent as my lungs screamed for air. My feet kicked at the hay and his hands pushed harder against my head. He bashed my head forward and screamed with panicky anger, ‘Don’t you go yellin’’ Then I was free. Of my mother, the farm an’ the life that I could of had. The life that was never mine, in which I was nothin’. The pain, the loneliness and the anger were all gone.

northerly AUTUMN 2021 | 27

READ

Susie Warrick Young Writers Award 2020: The runners-up Madonna

By Eden Annesley First runner-up, Category 3 School years 10-12

It begins as a hazy vision. I see her shift between the branches, yellow and blue, captured in stained-glass.

Her hands are celestial, face rosy and timeless. She moves, and I try to call out her name. But she is barely alive. Between the chiaroscuro of her face, a shadow flecks, deforming into scarlet and phantom-black. It’s uncanny, the way she disappears. * My younger sister had an auspicious birth. I remember, mostly, the cocktails, glinting blue and yellow in the light of the chandelier. I sat in the corner, observing, between the fragments of conversation, my mother’s swollen belly, bulging at the dress’s modest seams. Her face was surreal, then contorted into back-clenching pains.

‘Mary? Are you alright?’ my father cried.

I watched as she was rushed through the ballroom, down the mahogany staircase, writhing in a faint of the possessed. Someone took my hand and drove me, far away, to a white room, where I could see my mother labouring between gasps, cherry red droplets bitter against her pale skin.

The baby bled forth in a collective gasp, encased in a speckled second flesh. She was puny and naked, blindly scooped into the midwife’s hands. The doctors began to mutter, and my mother’s face warped with age. My father’s face mutated into a crevasse and he seized my hand.

‘Come with me. And don’t look back.’

‘Why not?’

His platinum eyes betrayed nothing, fingers gripping tighter into my pudgy hand. I craned my head backwards, and between the dense glass and muted

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cries of doctors, I saw my baby sister, illuminated by a golden halo. She was Madonna’s child. Eerily captured, I saw her disappear behind the click of the closing door. * My younger sister grew up without a mother. At the funeral, relatives lamented the passing of ‘dear, sweet Mary’, the tragic victim of mortality. My father thanked them for their eulogies and ushered them from the house.

‘How does your sister fare, Augustine?’ said a greataunt several years later.

‘Well, I’m fine, really,’ I said. ‘It’s not like my mother ever left my heart.’

In the corner of the room, my baby sister cooed.

She manifested an angelic goodness of which I was deprived. As she was lifted into the hands of my grandmother, the string quartet at the side of the room swelled in glorious harmony. Her eyes, grey like my mother’s, met mine. Oblivious to her captor, she released a growl, amplified to my curious ears. As the shadows scampered, her face transformed, from rosiness to mottled, grotesque skin. The demon-child smirked at me, blood congealing from her vision. A serrated wind threw the curtain wide - my baby sister disappeared behind it - and when she re-appeared she was fast asleep. * Mr John and Mary Munroe were an elegant couple.

They comprised of mundane flecks- Mozart, tea parties and celebrations, trips to the seaside in the train. I whiled away many hours at home studying books in their absence. The Baroque artists fascinated me, with the irony of the serene Virgin and her holier child.

READ

When my parents returned, I recounted them stories of Raphael and Michelangelo. They said it was lovely.

They told me to go to bed.

I once watched my mother at Mass, kneeling at the altar. The drooping weight of the unborn child was enclosed beneath a protective hand. In the stainedglass, holy sheep bleated in moonlit specks, but were swooped by a peck of ravens, cawing through the open window.

My father frowned. ‘Demonic blighters,’ he said.

I watched my mother’s belly convulse, contorting into an outlandish bulge. It pulsated with a diabolic rubyredness, a telekinetic force whispering across my face, ghastly and clawed. I gasped.

‘Be quiet in church, Augustine,’ said my father.

Soon after, I was escorted home by my parents. They spoke in hushed voices.

‘This child will be a blessing,’ said my mother. ‘A beautiful daughter for our family.’

‘Of course, dear,’ said my father.

He took me upstairs and turned the light off. A crucifix was embalmed on the wall, snowy white and scorning.

My mother’s laboured steps shuffled nearby, followed by a groaning collapse. It was only hours later that her breathing returned to normal. *

‘Auggie wants to see the Madonnas, don’t you?’ she chattered. ‘Can you show us the way?’

The curator led us to a small platform. From afar, I saw the frothing scarlet gems of the Virgin’s thin face condense.

My younger sister sighed and sunk into a ball. ‘She’s very beautiful. Was my mummy beautiful, Auggie?’

‘You have the same white face,’ I said.

‘She must have loved me very much,’ said my sister. ‘I know she did. She told me so, once.’

‘She can’t have.’

My baby sister began to cry, and her face trembled into wrinkles, hunched, gnarled at the finger and snarling from blood-red eyes. The curator scowled. My baby sister’s face leered into mine, a Gothic artefact birthed before its time. ‘You remind me of my mother sometimes,’ she said. * The moon weighs heavily in yellow and blue fragments, but my sister’s echo in the woods is black. A rustle attracts her attention, and her face shifts, pitted and sunken. The tree branches drape across her path, snaking into a willowy cross. With a final crimson hiss, she disappears. I wait for a few moments, watching and wondering where she has gone. But after some time, I turn and begin to walk home.

I took my baby sister to the museum on her seventh birthday. My father gave her a new yellow pinafore and a pearl necklace from my mother, a teardrop enclosing her lily-white throat. Spectators stopped to admire the child. The curator gallantly offered her his arm as we entered the Baroque wing.

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WORKSHOPS

Workshops get into full swing Opinion Writing

with Vivienne Pearson 20 MARCH Local freelance journalist Vivienne Pearson will deliver a half-day workshop on writing opinion pieces.

Turn to page 21 to read more.

Creative Non-Fiction: Putting Yourself on the Page with Inga Simpson 17 & 2 4 A PR I L Inga Simpson is an award-winning Australian novelist and nature writer. She has been running writing workshops and retreats for more than a decade. Her most recent work, Understory: A Life With Trees (Hachette, 2017), chronicles her decade spent living inside a southeast Queensland forest, and was shortlisted for the Adelaide Writers Week Award for Nonfiction.

In this online workshop, Inga will address various questions of writing non-fiction. Creative non-fiction relies on the personal connection between author and subject for its narrative drive and emotional heart.

But how much of ourselves should we put on the page? And what are the ethics when we do? Where is the line between truth and a good story? And how do we make a good story great?

For workshop details and to register visit byronwritersfestival.com/ whats-on

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Writing True Stories with Benjamin Gilmore 22 MA Y Benjamin Gilmour is an author, filmmaker and paramedic. He has published six books, including three of narrative non-fiction, an illustrated book for children and two books of poetry. His screenplay for the film Jirga won the NSW Premier’s Prize, and the film represented Australia at the 2019 Academy Awards. His book Paramedico, about ambulance workers worldwide, is a best-seller in Australia and the UK. This workshop will cover the art of writing true stories in an engaging and rewarding way, whether you are writing a biography, a long-form article for a magazine, a book of local history or a travel memoir.

Benjamin will cover research, interview techniques, how to build a compelling narrative and more.

A Winning Submission with Marele Day 5 JU N E Marele Day’s four-book Claudia Valentine series won her a Ned Kelly Lifetime Achievement Award for crime writing. Her bestselling literary novel, Lambs of God, was published to international acclaim and has been adapted into a major TV miniseries.

This workshop will analyse how to create a submission that will catch the eye. You have been working away at your brilliant manuscript and now feel it is ready to share with the world. This half-day workshop will give you strategies for writing a distinctive submission

that will get your work noticed by agents, publishers, competition judges, and residencies such as Varuna and Byron Writers Festival Residential Mentorship.

Flash Fiction with Dettra Rose 1 9 J UNE Dettra Rose is an award-winning flash fiction author. She wrote her first flash in 2018, winning the inaugural Australian Writers’ Centre Furious Fiction prize – and a love affair was born. Since then, her pieces have won and been shortlisted/longlisted in many esteemed competitions. Her work is also widely published online and in print anthologies. She is working on a novel and trying hard to finish it despite her addiction to flash.

Dettra is an experienced educator and workshop facilitator.

Flash fiction is gaining global popularity for its immediacy and punchy bite-sized storytelling. Flash is all about brevity; story length ranges from fifty to 1000 words.

With so few to play with, every word must earn its keep. The skills required to write compelling flash are transferable and will help inform and sharpen longer short formats, novels and creative non-fiction.

Come along and find out why so many writers are getting hooked.

Writers groups listings and competitions will return in the next issue of northerly.

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