Varuna Alumni Association: the craft, the writing life
Alumni feature: April 2012
| FEATURE - APRIL |
ALUMNI BOOK REVIEW |
NEW WORK, WORK NEWS |
FEATURE: APRIL 2012
Member Interview: Kate Wyvill, Northern Territory-based playwright
Playwright, director and founder of Sanity Productions, Kate Wyvill takes time out from polishing her forthcoming play ‘Marbles’ to chat to Alumni News Editor Diana Jenkins.
DJ: Welcome to the Alumni interview suite, Kate. Tell us how you first came to Varuna and what happened during your stay.
KW: I came to Varuna in May 2011 for the ‘Stage and Screen Professional Development Residency’ with Katherine Thomson. I live on the opposite side of Australia and [successfully] applied for funding from the NT Government to assist with the costs of getting there and the cost of the residency.
I didn’t really know what to expect from the residency, but I knew as a relatively new playwright I wanted help in tackling the play I was constructing called ‘Marbles,’ which was a much bigger fish to fry than my first play, ‘The Wardrobe’. I also of course knew Katherine’s work and the fact she was the mentor was the main attraction for me. Apart from that I didn’t really know what to expect from Varuna itself. The big plus was that there were only four of us plus Katherine in the house. We each had our own room and a private space to write. There was a ‘code of silence’ in the house until 6pm, which was a bit strange at first and when desperate could be circumnavigated with a little whispering in the kitchen, but not within ear shot of Katherine – the ‘talking monitor’.
During the week we each had individual private sessions with Katherine and group sessions together. After 6pm we would meet in the dining/sitting room, light the fire (Christine Croydon was the ‘fire monitor’), open the wine (my department), and have a delicious meal prepared by Varuna’s chef. Then we wrapped up the evening with hilarious stories (courtesy of Deborah Klika), followed by a game Katherine brought which became quite addictive and made an appearance every evening.
Every morning my coffee addiction was satisfied by a brisk walk into Katoomba with fellow writer Bruce Honeywill for more writing talk, then back to our silent rooms to write and write. The week, I have to say, was one of the most memorable experiences of my writing career. It was a total luxury to spend my days and evenings talking about writing, characters, structure, objectives, obstacles etc etc. In my ‘real life’ I have three children and many daily distractions, so to escape from this for a brief interlude and totally immerse myself in my play was utter bliss.
I came to Varuna with the aim of writing the first draft of my play and realized after working with Katherine I was miles away from even writing the first two lines. My week there reminded me of my training as an actress at the Q Theatre back in the mid-eighties, where I learned all the building blocks needed to excel at my craft. In the short time I had with Katherine I realised I needed to go back to the beginning and work on the building blocks for creating a great play.
DJ: Tell us more about ‘Marbles,’ the production you’re currently developing for a November opening.
KW: ‘Marbles’ is about the impact of Alzheimer’s on not only the sufferer but his family. It raises questions about power and control, voluntary euthanasia and the right to choose how to die. The story is about three sisters, living in separate parts of the globe, who are thrown together for one night to confront the reality of their aged father’s dementia. Tensions start to rise as they compete for control of Stanley’s future.
Added to this mix is the uninvited arrival of their mother, who hasn’t seen Stanley for over thirty years, and the walls of family civility come tumbling down. The characters flay around in a world they don’t understand – and maybe Stanley isn’t the only one losing his marbles...
DJ: And why Alzheimer’s, why this difficult subject at this point in your career?
KW: My father died from Alzheimer’s in 2010. I was shocked by the effect this disease had on him and so angry that he should have suffered so appallingly. I wanted to put this experience on stage and reignite the debate within the community about voluntary euthanasia. He said to me twenty years earlier, “If I lose my marbles, shoot me,” and I was powerless to help him. This powerlessness is reflected in the play.
DJ: How significant has your relationship with Katherine Thomson proven to be since your Varuna residency?
KW: Katherine is now working with me on the script as dramaturge so I think you could say that was pretty significant! I approached Katherine to assist me about five months after Varuna. If I hadn’t come to Varuna I would never have met her and my writing would be a shadow of its potential. I am so delighted to have her support.
DJ: You established Sanity Productions in the UK – when and how did that originally come about?
KW: We lived in England from 1998 to 2008 and initially lived in a tiny two up, two down cottage in the middle of a vibrant yellow rapeseed field in beautiful Shropshire. I had three little boys under the age of six, the nearest neighbour was a twenty-minute walk away, my husband left the house at 6am and got back at 8pm and the idyllic country cottage walls were starting to close in.
I also couldn’t get any work as an actress (which was my job in Darwin), due to our location and three tiny human beings. So to stave off madness I wrote a play about a woman who locks herself inside a wardrobe to have a day off. I then set up Sanity Productions in order to take the play to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, where to my total surprise it was a great success. I then expanded it into a full length play, raised the money and toured it around parts of England in 2006/7.
DJ: (My god, can I ever relate to the protagonist in ‘The Wardrobe’ – if only this bloody apartment had some built-ins!) So what are your hopes for the future of theatre production, both in terms of Sanity Productions and the industry as a whole?
KW: In respect of Darwin, I hope the theatre industry here revives so that artists have more opportunities for work and don’t leave – which has been the pattern since Darwin Theatre Company closed. I’m not just talking about actors and writers but also crew.
When I staged my play ‘The Wardrobe’ here in 2010, I had great difficulty sourcing a stage manager and just by chance came across a young woman who had moved here from Sydney, where she worked with the State Theatre. It was also pure luck that I found the actors. I needed two actors in their 40s for the roles, and there were only two in town who fitted. Fortunately they were excellent actors so there was no casting to speak of.
My hopes for Sanity Productions are that it continues to grow financially and is able to take my plays further afield to regional Australia and the major cities, and by doing so provide exposure for my writing and work for others. My hope for the future of theatre production as a whole is that more producers take a deep breath, put their hat in the ring and drive more scripts onto our stages.
DJ: Darwin is a world away from Blighty in more ways than one – what brought you to the Northern Territory?
KW: I came to Australia in 1981 and went straight to Sydney, where I lived for 10 years. I was working as an actress (that is, I was cleaning friends’ houses, ironing their clothes, washing their cars, temping for an agency, selling classifieds and becoming very disillusioned with my lot in life) when a fellow unemployed actor saw an advertisement for an Administrator for Darwin Theatre Company. I’d been to Darwin once and thought it very romantic – all that rain, thunder and lightning –and it was a shorter flight from there to see my family in England, so I thought, why not? I could do with a ‘proper job’. I applied and was successful.
DJ: I’m yet to visit Darwin, but I understand it has a thriving cultural scene. To what extent has your dramatic change of location informed and inspired your recent work? How much of that is Darwin itself, how much does the city lend a particular flavour to your playwright’s pot?
KW: I wouldn’t say it has a thriving cultural scene, theatre wise. During my 10 years away, Darwin Theatre Company lost its funding and I returned to an empty theatre and miniscule opportunities of employment. The past 4 years have therefore not been thriving drama wise, but the future is looking slightly more positive outside of the work that I am creating.
Darwin’s location didn’t really inspire this recent work as the idea for it came back in the UK in 2004, when I was at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe and my father was showing the first signs of ‘not being right.’
The Darwin influence came through in the later development of the script centring around voluntary euthanasia. Darwin was the first place in the world where voluntary euthanasia was legalised, albeit for just nine months (thanks to interference in Darwin politics from federal politicians). I spent many months in our research library reading every press article from that period. Also the founder of Exit International Dr Philip Nitschke lived here during that time so Darwin is the perfect place to write this play.
DJ: How much rewriting is involved in a play? I have this image in my mind of the script just constantly evolving right up to opening night – how accurate is that?
KW: There is an enormous amount of rewriting. It is never ending, however just like research I think you have to have a cut-off point and say that’s that. I am aiming to have the script completed by July – and the next four months is where 90% of the work will be done. After that there will be some tweaking here and there following work-shopping, prior to rehearsals commencing in October. I expect during rehearsals we might make a few small changes but I certainly won’t be evolving it right up to opening night – that would be far too distressing for the actors.
DJ: I think writers in other fields are equal parts terrified by and envious of playwrights because of the collaborative nature of the theatre. How confronting is it having to workshop the play with the company, and, at the same time, how rewarding is it? Any surprises or, dare I say it, dramas as a result?
KW: Yes, it is confronting handing your work over but also very exciting. I am also directing this production, which can be seen as a bonus and perhaps also as a hindrance. I think, however, because I come from an acting background I am very open to suggestions from the actors in respect of the script. On the other side of the coin, I know myself, as an actor, [that] when a particular part of a speech isn’t working for me, it would be so much easier to have the writer there and ask them to alter it – whereas the challenge should be to get through it. No doubt we will have some interesting times in the rehearsal room as three of the actors are also playwrights!
DJ: You perform a number of roles: writer, actor, director, and I think producer – how did this juggling act develop, your taking on multiple parts to stage your plays, or was it ever thus?
KW: I decided from the very beginning that if I was going to write plays then I couldn’t bear to see all that hard work end up in the bottom of some theatre director’s drawer or, worse still, the bin. It was obvious to me, as a total unknown, that I was also going to have to produce them.
A reviewer in England [described me] as ‘a one-woman cottage theatre industry’ and this is essentially what I am. I create the play, find the money and gather a team to stage it. Having worked as an actress I know how difficult it is to earn a living in this business. I am therefore very passionate about also creating work for others. I think I was the only company at the Edinburgh Fringe where an actor was paid Equity rates (not me, I might add – my co-actor; I just had a bank overdraft). It gives me great pleasure to create work opportunities for others – my next play ‘Marbles’ is employing 11 local professionals – however, it is a long, hard road raising the cash and quite exhausting on top of everything else. I also hope more writers take the plunge and self-produce and that established theatres can access more resources so that they can take more risks with unknown writers like myself.
DJ: How healthy is the contemporary audience’s appetite for theatre? How do you explain theatre’s enduring popularity as an art form?
KW: I think it is very healthy. The Darwin population in particular has always had the highest percentage per capita in Australia for attendance at a performance. They just need more shows to see! Theatre’s popularity I think stems from our voyeuristic tendencies as humans. We love to see real people, portraying aspects of our own lives and shaking us up.
DJ: Are there particular challenges this production has had to overcome?
KW: Where do I start? Foremost: raising the finances. The show is financially supported by the Australia Council for the Arts; the Northern Territory Government; Brown's Mart Arts; Darwin Entertainment Centre; business sponsorship and individual donors. I still need to find some more money and finish writing the play.
DJ: As much as Alzheimer’s makes for difficult subject matter, it’s also very relatable – so many people have an Alzheimer’s sufferer in their family (including yours truly: my nana has it) or have been touched by Alzheimer’s in some way. It’s an immensely tragic and frightening disease, but it also brings with it moments of unintentional and sometimes shocking humour. These occasions are always suffused with pathos – how hard is that to convey that emotional maelstrom in the script and onstage?
KW: That is my greatest and most interesting challenge. ‘Marbles’ is a very funny play, however I don’t ever want the audience to be laughing at Stanley’s condition (Stanley is the character who has Alzheimer’s). Alzheimer’s is not funny; as you say, it is tragic. The humour in the play comes from how the other characters react to Stanley’s behaviour.
Stanley’s dialogue (to date) is infused with poetry for two reasons. One [is that] a person who is in the mid-to-late stage of Alzheimer’s loses their ability to construct a clear sentence, so the poetry enables the audience to understand what Stanley is saying whilst also maintaining his condition. Second, the power of the adjectives within the poetry allows us to witness the emotional turbulence within Stanley and his suffering.
DJ: What would you have audience members take away after seeing this play?
KW: Three things. One: an evening of great entertainment. Two: a greater understanding of what it is like to have Alzheimer’s. Three: a continuing conversation about voluntary euthanasia.
DJ: How and where do you produce most of your writing?
KW: I love research, so I do plenty of that, probably too much. I also scribble things down on scrappy pieces of paper; it might be something somebody said or an idea and then [I] often lose that piece of paper, or it surfaces from my stacks of material at exactly the right moment. I type everything onto my laptop and have neck issues because of this, so I need to get a proper computer – but then you can’t get that onto your knees in bed...
I write in two places. When my children are at school, I write at the kitchen table; when they are home, I write in my bedroom. I would love an office, but as long as I have a view of nature – a tree, a plant and silence – I am ok.
DJ: What are your writing habits, disciplines and superstitions?
KW: I take a long time. I like the characters to ferment. This play has been bubbling around in my head for 8 years. I walk every day in the very early morning around the shoreline at East Point and this is the time (when I am actually writing) that I solidify an idea, a scene, an event in the play.
I am not a writer that goes to her desk at 10am until 5pm every day. I write in between all the other things that need to happen in life for my family, like the dreaded Woolworths [run], festering washing, creased ironing, ‘delicious’ meals and hospital emergencies. When the children were little I used to put them to bed at six and then start writing. Now they are bolshie teenagers I put myself to bed and write from there. I don’t have any superstitions, which is interesting because as a child I was riddled with them – perhaps I have grown up at last?
DJ: It’s bloody tough going, writing for a living; how do you manage to stay afloat financially?
KW: I’m married to someone who has a proper job and is hoping one day he can retire.
DJ: Reviews: love ‘em, hate ‘em or never read ‘em?
KW: When [reviews] come out, I read them with one eye shut and the other at a squint, as for some reason, if they say something nasty, I feel it won’t hurt so much. When they are excellent I learn them off by heart.
DJ: How do you spend your free time (if you have any...)?
KW: Woolworths, washing, ironing, cooking, hospital emergencies.
DJ: Who inspires you and why?
KW: I am inspired by people who see the positive things in life and by doing so give me the courage to keep going. I like that quote from Mark Twain – I saw it on a gift card and it is now on my notice board in the kitchen next to the fridge – ‘Courage is not the lack of fear, it is acting in spite of it.’
DJ: Who are your writing heroes?
KW: Harold Pinter. I first came across Pinter when I had just started acting and a fellow actor and I performed his play ‘The Black and White’ at the Harold Park Hotel in Sydney – they used to have a night where anyone could get up and have a go, don’t know if they still do that. I love Pinter’s use of words and especially lack thereof – he is a great writer for actors as you can’t hide behind words – and as for those ‘silences’ – spectacular.
On the other end of the spectrum is Chekhov. I just love what he does to his characters; they are so hopelessly inept in life and so agonisingly real. I think ‘The Cherry Orchard’ is the funniest play [in the] world.
DJ: How important is it to you to develop relationships with other playwrights?
KW: I used to think it wasn’t important: ‘I just write my plays alone in my garret and that is that.’ However, after coming to Varuna and having contact with other playwrights, I realise what I have been missing. It is wonderful to talk about your play or ideas with others who understand what you are going on about. Who get just as excited as you when you discover a new objective for one of your characters or a tantalising obstacle. Very anorak-y and heartening.
DJ: How has your playwriting changed over time and with greater experience?
KW: This is only my second play so I don’t have a lot to draw on. However, working now with Katherine and learning new skills has changed my approach. Structure, structure, structure.
DJ: What recurring motifs are threaded through your work?
KW: Control over and high expectations of others can only lead to unhappiness.
DJ: What is it you’re trying to explore through theatre, and why do you believe the stage is best medium for executing your ideas?
KW: I like to explore what makes us tick. How we try to function in society and who is to say what normal behaviour is. As I get older I realise more and more how insane we all are and [that] everyone is battling to make sense of this world and survive in it. I don’t believe the stage is the best medium for executing my ideas; you could do it on film or in a book, a poem, a painting. Theatre is just where I feel comfortable and feel I know what I am doing – well, sort of.
DJ: After ‘Marbles’ takes Darwin by storm in November, will it tour?
KW: I doubt it. Raising the money for a tour with a cast and crew of 8 is highly unlikely. Our location in the most isolated part of Australia makes it costly just to cross the border. The more logical approach would be to re-cast it in another city and stage it there.
DJ: What’s next for you and Sanity Productions?
KW: I am currently doing a bit of door knocking, trying to get ‘The Wardrobe’ onstage in a southern city in 2013, with the idea to follow this up with ‘Marbles’ in 2014. I’d also like to write another play and, if I can find some more energy, produce it.
DJ: Kate Wyvill, thank you for playing. (Exit stage left)
Click here to leave a comment for the Monthly Feature article.
CONTRIBUTIONS FOR THE MAY MONTHLY FEATURE WANTED: LOST IN TRANSLATION?
Has your work ever been translated into another language? Or are there any professional translators out there on the Alumni roll keen to tell us what they know?
Varuna Alumna and author of the YA hit Six Impossible Things, Fiona Wood blogged recently about reading two versions of the first volume of Proust’s classic In Search of Lost Time, or Remembrance of Things Past (for those seeking more advanced procrastination aids, Fiona’s post includes a recipe for madeleines...mmmm...), concluding that subtle differences of meaning ultimately deliver distinct reading experiences. Indeed, don’t such choices on the part of translators potentially result in quite different books...? What’s the history of literary translation? How much control (if any) do authors have over translated versions of their work? How does it feel to see a version of your work that you can’t even read? And is there a decent career to be built practising the art of translation?
Please email the News Desk your thoughts on these and other questions about translation by 27 APRIL. Thanks!
NEWSFLASH: The News Desk is on the move
Personal changes are afoot here at the Alumni News HQ: my husband, son and I have become GFC Refugees. The main breadwinner’s recent redundancy means the News Desk is packing up and leaving town; stay tuned for future monthly features from some of the great literary cities of the world while we figure out what the hell happens next. Any tips or special requests for must-see literary sites in Hong Kong, New York and London are especially welcome.
ALUMNI BOOK REVIEW
Cinnamon Rain, by Emma Cameron
Reviewed by Helen Barnes-Bulley
I can recall conversations that took place at various times at Varuna about the problem of being pigeon-holed as a “Young Adult author,” and Peter Bishop’s concern that many fine novels would never be read by adults simply because of that label. There is something slightly alienating about [the YA] label for an older reader, unless they have a personal reason to read such books. I suppose we mostly read Young Adult fiction if we have children who are reading it, so that we can enter into their reading experience, and there have always been books that were written for older children and read to them by their parents, such as Little Women, Anne of Green Gables and Seven Little Australians.
Because young adults are now such a huge market for every kind of media, the bookshop shelves aimed at their wallets afford buyers a choice older readers could not have imagined. While promotion from the publishers has made Harry Potter, The Hunger Games and the Twilight novels huge bestsellers that are now raking in great profits as films, there are plenty of good local novels around that find a keen readership. Looking For Alibrandi is a particularly successful example of those novels that revolve around senior high school and family, and the transition from adolescence to adulthood.
Emma Cameron’s debut novel, Cinnamon Rain, is one of those. It’s the end of the summer holidays, the beginning of a new school year.
“I’ll see Casey again.
When I say it like that it sounds
Like it’s meant to be special
And it will be,
Except first day back,
By roll call,
I know it’ll be like
We never had a holiday,
And I still won’t know what’s wrong.”
Luke is the first of three narrators who tell us their interlocking stories about life at Pebble Beach in the last couple of years of high school, and that period of transition from school to the world of work, study and independence. For some, the journey is at times threatening and difficult; for others, it’s liberating and exciting. For the reader, of course, it will be familiar territory, and the central issue will be just how successfully each of the main characters negotiates the changes that inevitably occur.
Cameron has chosen a monologue form to tell the story of Luke, Casey and Bongo – real name David – and it works very effectively in creating a strong rhythm as the narrative develops. There are other minor characters: Duck, who has a dangerous obsession with cars, and Jemma, who is smitten with Luke but has no chance of ousting Casey from his affections. There are also the parents: Luke’s kindly and easy-going ones, Casey’s fearful and domineering father, and David’s drug-addicted mother who is responsible for separating David from his little brother, Dylan. The characters are familiar without being stereotypes; they are all credible, and their problems, conflicts and triumphs are sensitively and affectionately handled.
Cameron keeps the monologue form moving in a kind of shorthand. It isn’t poetry, but it is an interesting employment of the verse form; it facilitates a pace and economy that suit her understated approach to the characters and their pared-down exchanges. She is obviously at pains to avoid the slightly melodramatic writing in some Young Adult fiction and its often heavy reliance on dialogue.
“Day two.
Science lesson one.
Mr. Chalmers – the new guy.
We line up at the door
Like ducks ready to cross the road.”
While Luke is most likely to behave with maturity and consideration for others, Casey, for whom he cares deeply, is struggling with parents who seem determined to confine her social life and slow down her personal development. Her mother fades into the background; her father is a rather disturbing character who seems to want to confine her to home and to exercise absolute control over her life. It’s Casey who articulates for the reader what she understands as the reasons for this repressive family regime:
“Mum says
I was a surprise.
Dad says I was an accident.
Truth is…
I am their mistake.”
The relationship between parents and children is often at its most challenging at this stage of life, and Cameron, through the differing degrees of harmony and/or conflict within Luke’s, Casey’s and Bongo’s families, manages to effectively navigate the reader through the painful emotional impact of the maturing process, with all its yearning and disappointment, its self-doubt and self-justification.
One of the issues Cameron explores is teenage pregnancy. This is a subject still strenuously argued about in our current social climate, and there remains, despite the efforts of feminism and supposed social equality, a stigma for girls in their mid-teens who have their babies and are single parents, living on social welfare. Cameron doesn’t push a line about this; what she does is provide a sharp insight into a very particular case rather than making generalisations. This is an aspect of the story that is handled very sympathetically, and demonstrates a strong sense of the individuality of the human experience.
In fact, issues such as this – as well as those of family dysfunction, drug addiction and the removal of children into welfare institutions – benefit from the writer’s very understated approach. She is at pains not to over-dramatise, and her plain-speaking monologue style serves the story very well.
As happens with many young people who grow up in a small town like Pebble Beach, the city beckons with educational opportunities and work, as well as a more varied social life. Because Cameron’s characters all at some point become involved with the more disadvantaged of the city’s population, we gain a picture of the difficulties for those who have no support and no one to turn to. They end up in squats, often preying on each other, or in refuges, which, as well as offering some protection from the world of the streets, also occasionally offer the chance to try something new, which is the case with Bongo. He has left home and arrived in the city with virtually nothing, and through the manager of the refuge he lands a job that will take him away from his rather bleak family life and present him with a whole new range of possibilities. Taking up the job as crew for the marine scientist Libby Macleod, Bongo conveys that sense of freedom and confidence that is a new experience:
“We skim over the sea,
the salt spray stinging
eyes, lips and skin
and my fears fall away
like the waves in our wake.”
As with Bongo’s sense that life now has positive things to offer, so Casey expresses this same sentiment when she meets up with Luke again:
“Seriously…for the
first time in my life
I feel really alive.”
Cameron writes unpretentiously and truthfully about these young characters; her understanding of their needs, disappointments and aspirations is keen and deeply felt. By the time we’ve reached the last section of the novel, there is quite an emotional weight to the story and a genuine poignancy in watching how they react to being together again and the changes they have experienced. The strength of the novel lies in the emotional pull that rests on the authenticity of the characters, and it’s a book that many young adult readers will identify with and enjoy.
This story is one that I could imagine providing plenty of interesting discussion in a classroom in early to mid- high school. The characters are not special or glamorous and don’t have magical powers; they are not rich and they live what we would see as very ordinary lives. Cameron writes about them in an understated, subtle way, but by choosing the monologue form she gives them voices that can speak directly to the reader, and this renders their experiences immediate and direct in their impact – provoking, hopefully, a strong personal response.
Cinnamon Rain is published by Walker Books, Australia.
NEW WORK, WORK NEWS
Read all about exciting new release Alumni titles at Varuna Books.
Legend of the Three Moons for 10 -14 year old readers.
Published by Clan Destine Publishing Melbourne. Due out end of April. Distributor ABG (Australian Book Group) 03 5625 4290 fax 03 5625 3756
Patricia Bernard patriciabernard@iinet.net.au
This is a fantasy.
Due to one of the three young and beautiful Queens of M'dgassy refusing to marry him, the High Enchanter kidnaps five of the M'dgassy royal family and turns them into creatures that are kept either frozen on Tartic Island, under the sea at Whale Island, chained to General Tulg's wrist in Bataar or in a golden cage in the Castle of Doom.
Knowing how strong the High Enchanters magic was, the third Queen, enchanted the sons and daughters of her sister and herself and placed them in a forest that changes daily, she also removed the children's memories so they will not pine for their past lives.
Due to the three Queens being born at the same time as the three moons of M'dgassy, their fate is linked with the three moons. During an eclipse one of the children, Lem, 15 years old, is sung to by the moons. The song tells him the truth about the three moons, his parents and the High Enchanter. This starts the five on five journeys to free their parents and the third Queen, but first to know where to go they must leave the forest, which as the spell has been broken, has now been invaded by monsterous Gorfs and their cruel Gorfmasters, and find an oracle, sand reader, future teller who can decypher the words of the moons' song.
The Mind of a Thief by Patti Miller. UQP May 2012.
By history and chance and long ancestry I am from Wiradjuri country and I am part of its story.
How can we belong to a stolen land? And to what extent does our birthplace form our identity? These are the questions acclaimed author Patti Miller investigates in her beautifully wrought and absorbing new book The Mind of a Thief.
Growing up in a dilapidated farmhouse in 1960s Wellington in central western NSW, Patti Miller had long since moved away from a rural sense of self. She was drawn to an idyllic European version – travelling, living in Paris and finally basing herself in the noisy, wild heart of Sydney. When Patti learns that the first Native Title claim after the Mabo ruling was made in the Wellington Valley, it leads her back home and into unfamiliar territory.
What began as a restless inquiry turns into years of obsessive research, as Patti digs deep into missionary diaries, old newspaper articles and letters, seeking the true history of her beloved but stolen country. Along the way she forms new friendships with the Indigenous people she grew up alongside but never knew, uncovers a complex land rights battle which is far from over, and returns to a town facing rising crime, fear and harboring old prejudices.
The Mind of a Thief is Patti Miller's sixth book and a universal story about reconciliation and the many layers of country that bind us. It's a compelling, evocative and transformative journey of belonging, meaning, kinship, memory and the threads with which we stitch our identities. Whilst seeking the Wiradjuri stories of her birthplace, Patti begins to question the authenticity of her own story when an Elder tells her she may even have a secret Indigenous history herself.
Expertly weaving together memoir and narrative non-fiction, The Mind of a Thief is the work of an accomplished storyteller at the height of her powers. Above all, it is a book that will inspire you to return to your hometown, to unearth its secrets and discover the power of place in our lives.
AN INVITATION TO ALUMNI: CONTRIBUTING TO THE NEWS
If you have a hankering to interview other writers, or have a great feature bubbling away in the back of your mind, the Varuna Alumni News welcomes member contributions. Please send no more than 1,000 words to the News Desk for consideration. Contributions should be attached as a Word document, and include any JPG images relevant to the piece.
Please drop the News Desk a line if you’re so inclined – your feedback is ALWAYS welcome and very much appreciated.
Updating Alumni Profiles
If you’d like to update your profile in the Varuna Alumni Directory, please email 100 words or less, plus a JPG (150px wide) photo of yourself, to Vera at Varuna.
For details on what format to send download this pdf.
GENERAL NEWS & OPPORTUNITIES
WRITER-A-DAY "APP" PROJECT
For 'how to participate' information, click here.
For online form to submit a recording, click here.
Link to the Blog here.
POEMS IN THE WAITING ROOM:
The Poems in the Waiting Room Poetry Cards are now available for distribution into medical waiting rooms and you can read more about them on our blog.
Thank you to Deb Westbury, Leah Kaminsky, Michelle Cahill, Mark O'Flynn, Mary Ryan and Ivy Alvarez, Tim Thorne and Craig Billingham whose poems are now inspiring people in waiting rooms around the country. Their readings are also on Writer-a-Day.
WRITERS-IN-RESIDENCE:
This year we also have an exciting writer-in-residence program ... if you're interested in being part of it, please send in an Expression of Interest - this simply needs to be your name and contact details with a paragraph about your interest in doing the program and 50 pages of your writing. The full program can be viewed here.
First up is Geordie Williamson on Critiquing Culture from the 1st - 9th July. At the recent Stella Prize event for International Women's Day in Katoomba, much discussion focussed on the paucity of literary criticism by women in this country ... now's the chance to spend a week honing up your critiquing skills and open up a possible new career path for your talents.
Tim Ferguson is next up with a residency on Writing Narrative Comedy 9th - 16th July and after him we have Charlotte Wood looking at the Redrafting: The Difficult Second Draft from 13th- 20th August.