EMERGING WRITERS FESTIVAL

  • Jun 9, 2014

Writing is selfish. If it’s not driven from selfishness then it becomes meaningless. We write to find ourselves, to find others, to escape our reality and to communicate who we are.
7KptDes

Last week I was fortunate to attend the Emerging Writers Festival here in Melbourne. I was asked if I would like to be one of the official bloggers for the event and I was both shocked and extremely grateful. I have always been in awe of those who are gifted writers. The earliest memory I have of writing is being so excited to learn how to read but oh how I struggled… I have never had that natural talent for putting pen to paper. Those who follow this blog will already know I am terrible with grammar and thank goodness for spell check! But I have always been in love with writing. From my short stories in early school always with the appearance of a dragon, to my cheeky narratives in high school that would evoke a few giggles from my friends, to my thoughtful essays that I would spend countless sleepless nights pouring my heart into. I have written entire novels in my head, but that is where they will stay. For I am filled with endless imagination but the words just can’t flow from mind to fingers to paper, they will always become caught along the way. What I have learnt from starting this blog is that my talent with words is honesty, writing from the heart and not letting my mistakes stop me. To be asked to attend a writers festival truly means so much to me. I am the biggest fangirl of writing and I was beyond excited.

With up’s, there are always down’s, and I sadly could not attend all of my chosen events due to family reasons that I am too raw to talk about. When I returned to Melbourne the festival was half way through, but I was determined to attend my remaining events. I dusted myself off and stepped out into the chilly city streets wearing my jacket like shining armour.

The two events I attending were the Q and A panel and Travel Writing with Tom Doig, both extremely inspiring but very different. The panel was mesmerising. I shrunk back and hid in the crowd of people, listening with pen poised to five talented writers answer questions from an equally talented crowd. I could liken the experience to that of stumbling upon an underground society, huddled together in the dead of the night to debate and discuss secret affairs. The passion was so thick you could touch it. When asked what writing means to each of them, the sentiment was that they simply can’t not do it. You might not know where you’re headed or how you’re going to make it, but it’s something no one can ever take from you. Keep it just for you. And here I am wondering if we’re still talking about writing? Because this is exactly how I feel about taking pictures. And then I realised just how connected we are as creative people, driven by our passion and struggling to survive doing what we love.

Heartfelt and eager questions were raised by the tentative audience but one question really stuck in my mind. “Would you still write if no one was ever going to read it?”. I applied this question to my own art form and there was no doubt in my mind that the answer was yes. That’s passion. No matter if you’re an Author, Poet, Journalist, Painter, Musician, Dancer, Designer, Thing-maker or Photographer. You’ll always find time to do what you love, because that’s passion.

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I didn’t know what to expect from the Travel Writing workshop. I sort of assumed it would be a panel like my other event where I could hide myself in the masses. I was waiting for the doors to open and a girl came over to mark my name off the list. I sneaked a peek at the paper and noticed only a handful of other names. My heart sank and I instantly felt nervous. This was most definitely an intimate class kind of thing. And I was proven right when when all ten or so of us took the elevator up together. I stepped into the room first. There was a table arranged in an U shape with a different travel novel laid out in front of each chair, a notepad and Tom asking us all to take a seat. My hands became clammy and the blood rushed to my face. For starters I am terribly shy, the kind of stumble-over-words-can’t-form-coherent-sentences kind of shy. And secondly, I’m not even a writer! This is a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I sucked it up, I found some courage and I really, really enjoyed myself. Sure I probably embarrassed myself with my introduction to the group where I had to share my favourite travel writer when I didn’t have one, and sure I completely failed at the writing tasks set for us and hid behind my hair when asked who would like to read theirs out to everyone… But I really and truly learnt stuff about travel writing, and I felt inspired, and I felt like I should be exercising this writing muscle of mine more. Especially when surrounded by the incredibly talented individuals in this class. Tom taught us to document things we can’t capture, the smell, taste, feelings and sensations. To try not to make everything too beautiful, honesty is more powerful. For good descriptions, show your audience, don’t tell them, be specific not general and be concrete not abstract. And of course, the writing clichés to avoid, which I paid close attention to because I am most certainly guilty of using more than one of them… Travel writing is fascinating, and it’s been happening for thousands of years. Traveling for the sake of the adventure, for no other reason than for pleasure and to explore, and sharing your stories with the world. Nothing would make me happier.

WyVewTR

 

 

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