Month: July 2024

Words and the Weather

When the sun becomes shrouded in a haze of grey clouds and the winter winds blow through the trees, I fear the worst…

Infected with “seasonal blues”, I can always feel my fingers longing to reach for the phone, leading me to the pulling of a “sickie” and spending the day in the depths of a bed rot, with a book in my hand, sipping on a hot coffee.

In the same way that you would pair a juicy steak with a heavy shiraz, I long to pair a cup of tea with a good book the second I see as much as a cloud. But capitalism is a cruel mistress, and she bests me every time, the slog of a commute in the rain, the wind blowing the eyebrows clean off my face and the pure dread of human interaction hangs over me on a cold day just like … well, you know.

As a poet I find it easiest to allow my mood to guide me when I begin working on something. I’ll pull apart my memories like fairy floss and if it’s storming outside you can almost guarantee I’ll be pulling from the sad drawer.

I used to find it easiest to read and write under the cover of night, where my mind is levelled out enough so that there was no inherent bias within me as to what I might choose to write about.

My hands would move, and the words would just come.

Nowadays I allow the weather to choose for me, although that’s not to say it’s impossible to be sad and lonely on a sunny day; it’s difficult and requires dedication but trust me, it can be done, and I will say crying in the sunshine does indeed feel like a bit of a cardinal sin.

On a cold day when my toes freeze, my grip on everything becomes a little tighter. Like shaping something out of clay, I let my fingers on the keyboard match the pitter patter of the rain as the sky and I find synergy, and days later I’ll open the document and think, Jesus Christ, is she okay?

Sometimes it’s simply a fact that writing is a lonely exercise, alone with your thoughts for hours at a time, collaborating with every version of yourself to piece something together. As you make more space in your head for a story that can grow bigger and bigger, it’s as though there is too much space to occupy. When a blue sky is normally so lidless, the comfort of clouds offers a snugness as they tuck themselves around our homes.

Though I may complain about the seasonal blues that seep into the walls and latched on from the moment I heard my alarm blaring in the early hours of the morning, along with the sound of trees snapping in a blistering wind, sitting in the Busybird office and watching through the window the weather weave (in a classic Melbourne fashion) between rain and shine, I’ve had two minds about which thoughts need to be bottled and stored on the page today.

But why shouldn’t they all blend?

All of this is not to say that as a writer my ability to do so solely depends on the weather. It’s just easier sometimes to craft pieces you may normally cringe at when the wind is howling against your building, screaming at me to be braver. The darkness of the clouds whispers that they understand, the rain patting you on the shoulder as if to say, “You’re not alone.”

Cleo Docker
Tuesday Intern

On Work, Kids, and Making Time

It’s a cliché – juggling work and small kids is hard. No one denies it, and if they try, they might cop a stray fork to the eyeball.

You stay up half the night rocking, soothing, and occasionally using a snot-sucker to remove goop from tiny nostrils. Morning dawns and the older ones demand fruit – specific fruit, seasons be damned – and the smaller ones cling to you like they’re trying to squeeze your soul out through your gullet, all at a volume usually reserved for Grandpa’s TV audio settings.

Once fed and dressed (the hardest part – a judo black belt would help) you wrangle them into the car and drop them, often wailing for your extended presence, at daycare or kinder. And after the emotional turmoil that was your morning, you’re expected to toddle off to work and file away your children until pickup, so you can concentrate on whatever task you’ve been assigned that day, regardless of your sleep bank or energy levels.

And most people do it full time, with a couple of weeks of annual holidays to temper the strain.

But kids aren’t all snot and squeals. My eldest understands the word googol, just so they can describe how much they love me. My youngest speaks at a pitch so perfect, it gives me unprecedented ASMR. Their skin is the silkiest. Their curls, the dearest. They tell bad jokes that lead nowhere and stroke my face with infinite tenderness. They make me slow down and appreciate the small moments.

The other night during a kid-led kitchen boogie, I turned to my partner and said (in one of my cornier moments), ‘This is the time of our lives.’

‘I know,’ my partner replied.

So, when financial pressure meant it was high time to get back to work after several years of exclusive sticky hands and cries of, ‘Carry me!’, I knew I wanted to find work that wouldn’t take me completely away from the joys and struggles of parenthood. I wanted to find work that would allow me to treasure these few short years of smallness, sweetness and chaos, before the sarcasm and eye rolls officially set in.

I deeply admire the parents who can do it all – work full time and parent with indefatigable energy. But I also admire the parents who find ways to circumvent the constraints of colonial/patriarchal capitalism and make time for slowness. Besides, my constitution demands it – years of low iron and breastfeeding only permit so much. So, in these early years my partner and I have chosen op shop clothes and home-brand over holidays and fancy (or even clean) cars. We don’t buy organic vegetables, go to gigs, or update our technology. Our phone screens have ancient, zig-zagging cracks. We’ve chosen time over luxury at every opportunity.

With that in mind, I set out to find work that suited my pace and scoured the internet for freelance editing opportunities that would allow flexibility and balance.

But in these post-Covid times it’s all about who you know. Maybe it always was. I’m not so hot at the literary schmoozing and event attendance – a must for aspiring freelance editors. I don’t relish long solo missions to launches, fairs or festivals.

I had to look closer to home.

We had recently done the tree-change thing and moved out to Eltham – found a mud-brick home that’s impossible to heat, on a block of oxalis-infested bushland. We have a resident wombat who digs up the path, a family of wallabies who bound across the back of the block, and a feeling that this is where we’re meant to be.

I loved the idea of working near home, so I googled small local publishers who might need freelance editors, hoping that even if they didn’t have work for me, they might take pity on a local and find a moment to offer advice.

The first person I contacted was a bust – she rather aggressively told me that of course she had no editing work and she could meet up to chat about the industry for fifty bucks, if I wanted. I did not, but kudos to her for valuing her time.

The second business I found was an entirely different vibe. The website was a quick giveaway – this is a place that understands community and family. I’ll forever wish I’d met Blaise – her legacy here is pervasive: warm, caring and somehow maternal. And Busybird had everything I’d been looking for. They actually give their interns training and, after the internship is complete, freelance editing work. I had a few gaps in my resume, so I swallowed my pride and misgivings about another internship as a thirty-something mum of two with ample editing experience under her belt, and applied.

It was the best decision I could have made.

In a recent Busybird newsletter, I listed some of the things that make it special, but at its heart is community – people of all ages coming together to share their stories. Kev and Les are the backbone, but people are drawn to share the space, happy to spend an hour chatting over the inexhaustible supply of sweet treats that grace the central collaborative table, keen to have a cuppa and chat books, conspiracy theories, or the latest Netflix binge. And I can’t write about Busybird without mentioning the ultimate sweetheart goofball who graces the space – dear doggo Oscar.

Now, at the end of this experience, I know more. Thanks to Les I’m a better writer and editor, I can make a TikTok reel (albeit badly – I’m a millennial, after all), I understand the industry on a deeper level, and I’ve embraced the Oxford comma. Above all, I have new friends I hope to keep for life.

I’ve found that I love editing self-published work. Everyone deserves to have their story published, gatekeepers be damned. And everyone has a story to tell. Our lives are rich with the strange and wonderful.

I now have freelance work that gives me time. Time for the small, slow moments of parenthood. Time for the larger life events that can so easily pass us by amidst the unending pressures of capitalism. Time to garden, read, and write. Time to wonder. Time to grow.

And when my kids smear snot on my leggings for the umpteenth time in one hour, I’ll chose to thank Busybird (almost definitely) for giving me a chance.

Ellen Spooner
Editing Intern

My Work Experience

Books have been a large part of my life ever since I was a child. My mother used to read stories to me before I was old enough to comprehend the words, or even say them. My grandma would also read to me, and I would sit starry eyed as I watched her mouth articulate each word, painting a picture with mere sounds. She always found it interesting how I would watch her so intensely, intrigued by the story.

As I grew, I began reading my own books, exploring Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and the halls of Hogwarts. Slowly, the spines became wider, the pages more densely packed with words. My mother still read books to me, classics like The Faraway Tree or The Wizard of Oz.

Reading is a wonderful experience. It transports you, educates you, entertains you, and inspires you. I love reading many genres, authors, and forms, as each is individual in its own way. Yet, there are so many books in this world, and not enough time to read them. I feel that I will never read everything I want to.

When questions about my future arose, asking where I would like to be in 5, 10, or even 15 years, I turned to this constant of reading. ‘Editor’ became a word frequently tossed around. I could help others create their dreams while also doing something I loved. And, when asked about choices for work experience placements, I knew editing was something I wanted to pursue. This led me to Busybird, and I am so happy that it did.

You know, as soon as you open the door, that this is a wonderful place. Oscar the blond labrador comes bounding up to you, slobber drooling from his mouth, and you cannot help but pat him. As you walk in, the walls are lined with books, and you can tell that these people take pride in what they do. And the first sound that enters your ears are of course the infamous 80s songs you may have read about in earlier blog posts.

This experience has been above my expectations. I cannot thank Les, Kev, all the interns, and even Oscar, for all they have taught me. The wisdom they have imparted is invaluable and I know the skills I have learnt will be influential in all my endeavours.

Not only has my knowledge of editing and proofing expanded, but that of working in an office environment and the many things needed to keep it operational and organised.

As I sit here writing this, I am beside a wall adorned with appreciation for all they have done. Many more books are published, and authors lives made complete because of the work that they do. I am so grateful for this experience, and the chance to have met such wonderful people.

Thank you, Les, and Kev, you are extraordinary and unique in a way few people are.

Ella
Work Experience Student