Hazel Edwards | This or That & the 'Person' Within

I always thought I had to choose one thing or the other.

It was either a barbie doll or an action figure, a floral skirt or khaki shorts, sneakers or sandals, pop music or heavy metal, it was never both. I grew up with this mentality; there was either a this or a that. The one time I was actually given a third option; I didn't know what to do with myself. How could I after years of thinking I could only choose one thing or the other? How could I choose both or neither for that matter? My struggle was more than just deciding what flavour of ice cream to get; it was a struggle of deciding something within myself. Should I drop out of high school or go on to university? Should I take this job I will hate or keep looking for one I will love? Should I be friends with these people because they're popular or find friends I actually like? Should I be me, or someone else?

As I got older and made more of these decisions I realised that my frustration with choosing 'this or that' was always down to one question; am I gay or straight?

When sitting in on Hazel Edwards 'Text Marks The Spot' School's day session, I was reminded of this struggle and I began to feel an appreciation towards her as an author. The thing that I admired most about Hazel was not the 200+ books she had mounted on her trophy cabinet. Sure her number of published books is impressive, but that's not what was going to draw the audience and myself to the edge of our seats. Instead, what compelled us was the curiosity of a woman with her stature, to attempt to understand an issue that was otherwise confusing to her. Despite this confusion and lack of understanding, she still challenged herself and took on a topic far greater than any she had before. She wrote a novel that represented a community of people who struggle everyday with finding legitimate recognition. Hazel took on the role of writing one representation that could stand as a powerful source of knowledge, understanding and acceptance.

While listening to her discuss her new novel, f2M: The Boy Within, I began to look around and take note of all the school children. I tried to imagine what each of them were thinking.

Photography by Shane Carey  http://thesensitiveshutterphotography.weebly.com/

Some were probably fighting the urge to fidget or contemplating the order in which they would scoff down their lunch. Others were probably thinking about the crush they had on their classmate two isles down or silently organizing how they were going to spend their weekend. A few were probably listening to the discussion or trying to think up suitable questions, both in an effort to impress their teachers. Yet, there would be one, I imagined there would be one. The one who sat there listening and feeling something. Maybe they would feel a sense of safety? Maybe they would take a closer step to accepting themselves? Maybe they would be feeling what I might have felt when I was their age?

As I sat there and thought about these kids, I began to feel something indescribable. I just knew that despite the novels success or failure as a piece of literary fiction, this is one more book to add to the limited selection of LGBT depictions. One day there is going to be a boy or a girl who at some point will begin to search for an explanation as to who they are. On that day, they may come across Hazel's novel or another one similar and without realizing it, they may have found the book that touches them. This could be the book that they can finally relate to, the one that shows them they are not alone, and the one they feel truly represents them.

Hazel's novel discusses the question that many of us ask ourselves, who am I?

The answer is simple, there is no choice in who you are, you are just you. 

Twitter you tweeting, tweet!

Twitter, twitter, twitter... 

What can I say? 

When describing our relationship over the past few days... well...

We uploaded, updated, favorited, replied, scrolled, followed, tweeted and retweeted. 

It was a love affair like no other. 

 I created a profile, personalised it, and to use Gina's phrase... 

I lost my twitter virginity!

 

Our first time was above and beyond all expectations.. not only did I master 'the tweet', but I managed a reply, tag, and hashtag.

 

 As well as being a great space to talk about the festival, it was VERY helpful in avoiding the struggle of wading through my bursting-at-the-seams handbag for a notepad and pen.

Instead I could record any and all quotes at the touch of a screen!

Side note:

Well Anson... 

'Write sober, write early'  

Great advice! 

Something tells me that if I decided on adding that Irish to my coffee Saturday morning Sue would have either boxed my ears or confiscated the beverage... 

(for herself)... 

See what I mean? 

A fantastic space to record my favourite quotes and make sure that they were everyone else's favourites too!

 

And most importantly!

What twitter gave me was a place to totally fan girl and share my admiration for some brilliant writers from the safety of the View Street Cafe, the VAC, a bathroom stall and my car.

 Twitter, you were more than just your average tweeting, tweet! 

You were a favourited one!

#TWEETINGTWEET #ITSATHING 

Friday Thoughts | Pedastools, Strangers and a Leap of Faith

Oh what an eventful day!

I say eventful because it’s true. I went to about seven sessions over the course of Friday. Seven sessions of constant learning and complete consciousness. I can honestly say my overall opinions from the day were completely unexpected. There was not one session where I thought ‘what the hell am I doing here?' Instead I sat there, enthralled in the conversations and I let my mind delve into each one, picking out what really mattered to me. 

I heard stories about each writer’s lives, their families and their youth. It got me thinking about pedestals, and how unjustly we place writers and performers on these unrealistic platforms. When you are sitting there in an audience, sitting with keen eyes and ready ears you don’t realize it. You don’t realize that they are just people. If you are fortunate enough to sit and gaze at these individuals and listen as they slowly remove the veil separating you from them, then that is when you will realize it. 

It happens when these individuals talk about their craft. Not in the surface level way, but when they speak about the foundations of writing or performing, and how they subject that to themselves. It amazes me how they can open up in front of strangers; strangers no doubt that are there to listen, but still without knowing these strangers, they do it. The trust they place in their audience is incredible; they trust us enough to reveal what is hidden in the deepest chambers of their soul. 

We often see it in their writing, as secrets hidden within the words. Yet at festivals such as this, we are not reading them from a page, we are reading their physical being. We see them for who they are as people in the everyday form. This I think equalizes us. It breaks down the mindset that they are different from us. 

Over the course of the festival I realized that I have always felt a fear factor towards writing. I’ve never felt confident enough to pursue it, even now I write with so much caution and restraint. These writers however, don’t. They write with such confidence, trust and humility. I guess to be a successful writer it's necessary. I guess sometimes you just have to take a step and move away from whatever is holding you back. Especially if what is holding you back is what you want to become.

So I have made a decision, right here and right now. I am no longer going to allow the thought of pursuing the art of writing scare me. Nor will I let a writer intimidate me, they are people and I am a person. We are the same and we are different. That is what makes us equal. 

Starting now I will pursue what I have a passion for, whether that's writing or not. Either way, I am leaping forward, not back.

Surviving in a Moment | "I want to give you a word, just take it, don't speak"

I would give you a word, but I can't, so I'm going to give you many until one stands out...

There I was, sitting in on the G'n'T session. Just sitting, listening and feeling. Three poets were before me; John Holton, Bronwyn Lovell and Bruce Oakman. Three poets who have a love for an art that is integral to their creative survival. This survival is the moment in which life is given to each of their poems (an unheard notion introduced to myself and the many others during the session).

Photography by Shane Carey

The poets each took turns and spoke of survival and the sense of urgency that it has. They agreed that this urgency can be found in the moment where poetry takes form and exists. This in my opinion is where poetry survives and endures. John used a phrase that said 'poetry is distilled in a moment'. With that moment comes the understanding that a poem can only survive for so long. Their advice was to use it, craft it to perfection and choose each word with purpose. This is when poems can ultimately, and hopefully endure.

That night I learned to appreciate the sense of satisfaction felt for the brevity of words. Particularly when Bronwyn took the time to share a performance that won her an award a few years back. She did so on cue, not knowing she had to and yet the words poured out of her. It was like they were a secret she had thought a million times before speaking them. It began with the line 'I want to give you a word' and after that performance I would have blindly taken anything she gave me.

Photography by Shane Carey

Finding the essence of a poem was also spoken of that night, Bruce said that good poetry is crafted by 'cutting out the faffy' and leaving nothing but truth. That is what Bronwyn did. The way she spoke was powerful; her words were accompanied with so much emotion, trust, and faith. We were all sitting there, devouring each word and feeling the intensity of the moment. We were all sitting there surviving in that moment. We were a group of people living on the edge, away from our physical selves. Then, when the poem ended, we felt something endure within us.

Photography by Shane Carey

For a second I thought I was alone in this, until I felt everyone at once. Collectively we sighed and in-sync we all stepped back away from the edge. What she gave each of us was not limited to a poem or verse, even though she spoke with such care and thought. Nor was it limited to an experience, even though it touched us like a long awaited embrace. 

Instead, what she gave us was a word, and we each took it, without speaking.

[For more photos check out Shane Carey's amazing work! http://thesensitiveshutterphotography.weebly.com/]

Tariq Ali | Reflections during Conversation

I wish I was politically inclined,
I wish I was, but I am not.
Lost - is how I feel sitting here.
I am in a crowd of people who have what I have not.

I wish I was more economically inclined,
I wish I was, but I am not.
Ignorant - is how I feel sitting here.
I am in a crowd of people who are what I am not.

On cue,
They laugh.

On cue,
They nod.

On cue,
They understand.

I am aware of the collective consciousness before me,
I see it, but a part of it is something I am not.

Why?

Maybe it is because I am not grey-haired or balding?
Maybe it is because I do not routinely chuckle or grunt in agreement?
Maybe it is because I have not maturity but rather naivety?

These are the things I think about as I sit here and watch

But wait -

Watch?

Watch I should not,

Listen I should.

Bling, Puppies and Pineapples

What a night!

Sorry fellow writers, I still have a case of the Mamma Mia blues. I say blues because I am awfully sad the film is over. There is rarely a movie I enjoy watching as much as this one. Okay, that's a lie. I am a huge fan of film and television, seriously as long as it has a kick ass story line, a great soundtrack and some slow moments, I will devour it. Many times over.

You know what else is great for devouring? A table full of junk food, a puppy running around in a tux and some engagement bling wrapped around a once naked ring finger. Okay so you cant literally devour all of that, but you can sure as hell use all that as a cause for celebration.

Last night, what started as a run-of-the-mill girls night, turned into a full fledged ladies night with dancing, singing, comfy pajamas, goodie bags and a lot of alcohol consumption. Needless to say, the laptop I stashed in my handbag for the purpose of some sly research during the intermission was not necessary. Instead of dedicating my time to Writers in Action prep, I had to be the responsible sober adult. Which is interesting considering I was the youngest and the only one who had a blood alcohol level that was under the limit. So my night pretty much consisted of driving back and forth through town to satisfy the needs of others, and taking advantage of my iPhones camera and filming the cringe worthy aspects of the night.

Did I miss out on a night of study and research? Yes.
Was it still worth it? Hell yes!

Oh and the pineapples, right well it just so happens that when I walked up the front steps and after being welcomed by a very enthusiastic blonde, the first thing I saw was a glass cup in the shape of a pineapple. Now for a normal person they would have maybe- just maybe noticed the very large diamond ring on a usually bare finger holding the cup. However in true Kira fashion I was more excited about the pineapple shaped glass I just HAD to have, much to the disappointment of the bride-to-be.

What a night!

Dot dot dot,
Kira

Excuse me, are you done with my spark yet? I would very much like it back.

I keep on trying to find what I have lost.

I've looked here and there, under and over, and in and out, but nothing! It is much the same. Nearly always the same. I try and I try, and yet it is still lost.

Where could it be?

I look around, I see faces new and old. Do you have it? Or do you? Hey you, over there! Excuse me?

I apologize. Sir? Ma'am? Do you have what I'm looking for? No? Okay.

I spin in circles pleading with myself and with them. The faster I spin the more nonsensical I get, they get, we all get.

I need it back.

I would very much like it back.