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Author Q&A with Carmel Bird – Thurs 14 Dec, 8pm AEDT

We'll be chatting with award-winning Australian author Carmel Bird on from 8pm AEDT on Thursday 14 December to celebrate a new award for digital short stories and the launch of Bird's new digital collection, The dead aviatrix: eight short stories.

Is there anything you'd like to know about writing short stories or publishing online? Don't miss this chance to put your questions to an experienced and talented writer. No need to wait until 14 December either – post them as they come to you.

If you'd like a bit of inspiration, have a read of some of Carmel's work:

The Dead Aviatrix, a story from her new collection: https://tablo.io/carmel-bird/the-dead-aviatrix-and-the-stratemeyer-syndicate
An essay on her new collection: https://tablo.io/carmel-bird/the-dead-aviatrix-the-story-of-the-stories

Carmel Bird has written novels, short stories, essays and books on the art of writing, in addition to editing anthologies of essays and stories. She was awarded the Patrick White Award in 2016.

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‘The Matter of the Mosque’ is quite chilling, and highlights the ugliness and banality of prejudice. You wrote that you used people’s own words to show their blindness and smugness in objecting to the establishment of a mosque in Bendigo. Do you have any advice for less-experienced writers about how to write convincingly and intriguingly about social issues?

Quite so, Marian. Didacticism can kill a story, unless of course the point of the story is to parody didacticism. But, to Marjorie's original comment, yes, the story is, in a way, all about its structure. The purpose is to lull readers with weirdly boring dialogue, and then to really, really jolt them into consciousness with a horrible hissing paragraph. In order to make a point. The narrative consists of the dialogue I overheard between mothers waiting for their children who were having ballet lessons. Most of the conversation was utterly banal, but every now and again the women remembered the fact that there was controversy in the town about the proposed building of a mosque. This issue was always just below the surface. Their rage and fear and prejudice would boil up and they would stop talking about such things as hairspray and schools and babies, and would spit out vile comments about Muslim people. I constructed the story so that the mothers just go on and on in a boring, mesmerising way, some of their thinking incidentally revealing ignorance and stupidity. Then, just once, I inserted a short paragraph consisting of their poisonous prejudice against the mosque. Then I went back to their boring chatter.
Now I don’t really know what to say to new writers about how I arrived at that structure. Because every issue, every situation has its own best way to come forward in fiction. I suppose the thing is that a writer must often (always, actually) be on the alert for HOW to shape a narrative. I had been aware for months that people were troubled by the idea of the mosque – I would be looking in a shop window, and some random person would come up to me and start ranting about the horrors of Islam – or I would be sitting on a park bench or in a café and people would just start up about it all. I would just say ‘oh’ to them – it is not my thing to engage in such arguments – I go home and write fiction – about most things really. And when I sat in the ballet school waiting for my grand-daughter, I just listened, and the structure of the story kind of unfurled. Nobody spoke to me or took any notice of me. I was just a silent well-behaved grandmother in the corner. There are even little funny bits in the story – because the characters (who are not individual – they’re just voices, like voices in a play I suppose) they do say the odd funny thing.
I know it’s irritating when writers say things like that – the story kind of unfurled – but that is what often happens. You are alert to the world, and I guess that the more experienced you are with material and with words, and perhaps the more prepared you are to experiment – well, things have a way of unfurling. Honestly, get in and do it – just write what seems to be wanting to be written – look, I have written three books about writing – there’s more logical and sensible stuff there about how to do things. The answer is either short, like now – or long, like in the books. Dear Writer Revisited is a good one to start with.
But I can think of one thing to say here – any story of any real worth is going to somehow reflect how you, you personally, think and feel about some aspect of life, some big or small issue or other. And if you put that issue front and centre, and bash the reader over the head with it, the fiction of your story could be so weighed down with earnestness and ugliness that it won’t quite function as a story. Stories have to sing you know. And a bit of subtlety never goes astray.
But look, if there is one thing I would say as part of just about every response to questions about writing – read – read all kinds of writing – inhale it, swallow it, digest it – read it. That’s where you’ll get your inspiration and direction.

I am grateful for the practical examples and real-life anecdotes you have incorporated into infinite craft your content, as they have brought the information to life and made it relatable and applicable.

The Dino Game features minimalistic graphics and sound effects, focusing more on gameplay than visuals. This simplicity is part of its charm and appeal.

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