Month: September 2024

My 20-Year Writing Journey

As cliché as it sounds coming from a publishing intern, I have always loved reading and writing. My dad loves to say that I began to speak ‘too early’, but I just see this as a part of my clearly innate need to get my stories out there. I spent the bulk of kindergarten taking coloured paper from the art table, stapling it together with lined paper, and creating my very own books. I loved reading these out to my family, workshopping my plots and characters in real time.

Later on, I was graced with the wonders of the digital world. I could use our family computer to type out words faster than I could think of them, and then polish it up with a Word template suited to whatever I wanted. I think I just about ran our house clean out of printer ink!

I created my own magazines, book series, comic strips, and diaries. My primary school friends were subjected to consistent emails about my current stories – but luckily for me, they would just ask for constant updates back.

Looking back now, I can see that my writing during this time was very heavily inspired by my life. Although I thought that I’d mastered the art of fiction, I now know that I was incredibly far from it. I used to base every character off a friend – with their real name and everything! – and have the plot revolve around whatever I was dealing with at the time. This was anything from school and friendships to the incessant need for a treehouse in our backyard. The latter ended up becoming a five-part series, featuring a man with my dad’s name growing a giant head of broccoli for his daughter to live inside – not much room for interpretation there!

Although I can’t ignore the fact that my writing still revolves around my life and experiences, my adolescence and university course have taught me that this doesn’t strictly have to be expressed as children’s fiction. I’ve moved on from slightly tweaking my diary entries and slapping them into a Word doc as a chapter book, and have even grown to understand the importance of subtlety.

However, this shift in my writing has also led me to find that creative writing isn’t the only end goal. I would often spend twice as long poring over my written words to tweak it to perfection before I realised that this part of the process was actually just as important – and not some sort of perfectionism-induced procrastination! Half of a story’s impact is lost if it doesn’t read right, and I could easily spend days going over my own work to find that flow.

Entering my twenties and working through my communications degree is what brought me to Busybird. I felt incredibly stressed during the application and interview process, but quickly found that it was pointless after I was asked who was singing the song playing over the speakers. As an 80s music fanatic myself, I was more than happy to gush about my love for George Michael, especially after finding out that these quizzes would be a frequent part of the internship.

However, I have since found out that my 80s movie knowledge isn’t quite as up to scratch – cue my forced viewing of Electric Dreams!

I’ve loved getting to see where my degree (and passions) could actually take me, not just as an outline on a unit syllabus. I’ve found it so interesting to see what real people write about, and I’ve felt reassured to have had so many memoirs come across my desk.

Above all, I love the community here. Les and Kev are great with balancing teaching with non-work-related conversations, so I feel less like a uni student and more like a real part of the team. I get to meet so many new faces every week, especially at the open mic nights. I’ve heard lots of life stories presented in so many different ways, and I can already see that this alone has impacted my content and approach to writing. I (finally!) feel myself coming out of my school-induced writer’s block, where not everything needs to hit certain criteria for a grade. The beauty of writing is the fact that it is an art form, not just a vessel for communication.

Though I am still in my very early adulthood, I feel that Busybird has been the best welcome into the industry. Not only do I have a new set of dot points to add to my résumé, but I also have a stash of memories and pointers to put keep under my belt. I know that my kindergarten self (though stuck trying to write a coherent sentence on paper) would be very happy.

Abby Harvey
Editing intern

Interview Anxiety

I wore earrings for the first time in months. I put on my Shakespeare pin, in case I needed to prove my dedication to writing. I scheduled therapy directly before. I edited my resume into a farrago of unpleasant coffee jobs and small debating awards, determined to use passion and youth to my advantage. I parked in a side street, lest I steal a more deserving car’s space.

A tempest of nerves rattled my skull. I always trembled, at least a little. In orchestra we called it ‘shaky bow’: the moment your thumb slipped, your lip quivered, and the conductor’s reprimanding eye found yours.

I’d sold my violin years ago, but the day I walked into Busybird I had the worst shaky bow of my life. I marched into the office on semi-steady feet, overstimulated, ready to face the worst.

I was immediately attacked by a golden labrador.

Oscar’s willingness to give love to a stranger threw me. The vibrant orange and pale blue, the faded prayer flags and unmistakable whiff of coffee, it all set me at ease. I’d forgotten, somehow, that writers understood anxiety more than anyone else. As Oscar nuzzled my hand, I realised this was not a test. It was ‘hello’.

I used what little knowledge I had, admitted when I was lost (what the hell was Ingramspark?), and left the same way I came. I’m still haunted by the typo I missed in the copyediting exercise, but I was never berated for the misstep. I saw, for the first time, a life in publishing which was not predicated on torturous exertion.

When my mum asked me how ‘Busybee’ went, I grinned with all my teeth and told her it was fine.

I am grateful for open mic nights, opportunities to typeset, know-how which would’ve otherwise eluded me. Les remains appalled at my incomplete knowledge of music history, Kev continues to teach me the value of design, and the other interns have made me feel less alone in the industry.

At her Melbourne signing for Yellowface, Rebecca Kuang said, ‘We all have to link elbows and make room for each other.’ The publishing industry specifically pushes us to compete, none of us are immune to ambition, but the idealist in me has convinced the cynic we can make space for revelry in writing.

Of course, I still get shaky bow. It means I care deeply about my craft.

It is not a weakness to pat the fiendish dog.

Scout Manuel
Wednesday Intern