Belinda Jeffrey

A lot of people come up to me around the place asking what they should do to further their writing. Some have a manuscript half finished, some have ideas. The last woman to talk to me, at the George Calombaris event the other night, had some sample chapters and two publishers requesting to see the final as soon as she’s finished. My answer to everyone, no matter the stage of your writing, is to join, contact, and participate in workshops offered by Queensland Writers Centre. I would not be where I am today without them. Which is why it’s a pleasure to participate in the QWC Blog Tour.

Where do your words come from?

I watch too many movies than is probably healthy and read, read, read. I spend a lot of time wondering. Somewhere, in all of this comes an energy and urgency for a new story, an idea, that I simply must find the right words to express. Sometimes it’s like a babble inside my head and If I just relax, the right words will flow. The voice of a story is the most critical factor, for me, and finding the right words is about getting inside the right voice for the story.  It’s more subconscious than conscious. In fact, better words come when my own cognitive self shuts up.

There are people I know who are organisational freaks. They love having everything neat and tidy and in its place. It gives them a sense of peace and satisfaction. Finding the right words, for me, is just like that. I can’t completely rest until they’re all put down, neatly ordered, in just the right place.

Where did you grow up and where do you live now?

I grew up in Adelaide until grade 7.  I spent a lot of time with my family traveling with three other families on caravanning holidays. Fishing on jetty’s, building fires at night when our parents weren’t watching, getting lost in sand-dunes. My short story, The Hallelujah Roof, is based on events that happened to me in the first year we spent in Brisbane. But I’ve now spent more years as a Brisbanite than an Adelaidian so Brisbane is definitely home.

What’s the first sentence/line of your latest work?

Tom Downs came out backwards on the sand at Big Bend. (YA)

A mackerel is a fish you can eat. A holy mackerel is a fish you can believe in. (Adult)

What piece of writing do you wish you had written?

Wow. There are so many. It’s a toss up between Cloudstreet and The Book Thief, but today I’m going with The Book Thief. It’s so clever, so original, so moving.

What are you currently working towards?

In the short term I’m working towards finishing this next YA and I’m almost there. I’ve then got two adult novels half written that I want to finish. I’ll have to flip a coin to decide which one gets immediate attention.

Complete this sentence… the future of the book is…

Certain.

I can’t honestly see a future without books. Books in all different formats. I think the digital age will expand our accessibility to the printed word, not replace the printed, bound book.

This post is part of the Queensland Writers Centre blog tour, happening October to December 2009. To follow the tour, visit Queensland Writers Centre’s blog The Empty Page.

Turns out that Launceston did exist and the iphone is not the be-all tool of the modern world, it does have it’s glitches. Not only does Launceston exist, its poetry scene is alive and well-and-truly-kicking butt.

Beginning on a very frosty Friday night, we shivered to the poetry of both featured and non-featured poets, hearing from the likes of Ross Donlon, Kevin Gillam, Nathan Curnow, Robin Archbold and our own poets, of course.

Saturday morning at Fuller’s Bookshop, art gallery in the afternoon and the crowning event that evening, The Launceston Poetry Cup.

It was a long day of poetry and, as great as it is, it does do strange things to one’s mind if in the zone too long. Like sending a small group of us in search of the hotel roof with a bottle of champagne (age was no barrier to this merriment). Deciding the roof was a tad dangerous, we changed venue to the balcony of a stone mansion (there is no other word for this building) behind the hotel. No one was home. We didn’t think they’d mind (it looked like a community centre or somesuch). It looked like the stage (complete with stone fountain in the front yard) for a midnight rendition of Romeo and Juliet by torchlight (we did contemplate this but it came to nothing.)

So. The cup. Rules are you have to perform a poem in under a minute. Poem with the best applause wins. Simple. I thought there was no point being immersed in the poetry world for a week with some of Queensland’s finest without penning a poem myself. I wrote, I performed, they clapped loudly – there was mild stomping. I didn’t win. The cup (there is an actual cup) went to Ross Donlon (well deserved) for his great poem called Menu. I stamped my feet and wolf-whistled for him. I did, however, win sixth place in the raffle and Kate Kennedy’s novel, The World Beneath, is coming my way.

If you are in Launceston next year, first week of October, I strongly urge you to check out the poetic action in the South. You won’t be disappointed.

Here’s the poem. Adapted from a scene in my novel.

FOR THE REAL KATE LEIGH, AKA MUM, 1936

Printed in the Kings Cross Times she was Kate Leigh

but in the back alleys if you wanted a whore or were a whore or wanted sly grog or she just plain liked you

she made you call her Mum.

At the Orphanage young Sam and his mates stole papers to get a look at her ‘cause she said Kings Cross was her place and anyone loyal was family.

She could hold a man’s troubles on her shoulders and there wasn’t anyone she didn’t know and nothing she couldn’t handle.

She’d wield a razor to save your life or end your life but if you got her,

if you managed to stick the boot and she was taken in,

she’d never rat you out and that was truth.

She had pictures with celebrities,

did time in Long Bay Gaol and friggin’ hated her rival Tilly Devine.

She handed out money to charity, put up Christmas trees in the streets of Surry Hills and gave out gifts like she was Santa’s moll.

Mum rivaled Jesus, church and the god-damn virgin Mary

‘cause it don’t matter to a boy what happens in the here-after

when the-here-and-now is shivering on a concrete floor

and starving at a wooden table

and thanking God for nothing.

She gave an orphan the right to say  “Mum” like it wasn’t anything pussy.

Imagine that

Sam could say over breakfast

Our Mum

knows Thumper- lightweight-Jackson.

I’m coordinating the tourning QLD poets program at the moment for Kristen Hannaford, Rob Morris and Zonobia Frost, and I’m sitting in my motel room on Little Bourke St Melbourne.

The Queensland Touring Program kicked off on Sunday afternoon in Sydney with a reading at the Brett Whitely Gallery in Surry Hills. Rob felt overwhelmed, reading amongst the work of such a renowned artist. It was windy in Sydney, but thankfully the dust had cleared before we landed. The Hotel manager was a closet poetry lover, so we discovered, and gave Zenobia a bottle of champagne for the night after they shared snippets of their favorite poetry across the front desk. It was a quick stay in Sydney and we were up early the next morning to catch the flight to Melbourne.

We arrived at the airport early, which was lucky given flights were expected to be delayed because of winds and problems with connecting routes. So they boarded us on a flight straight away that had been idling on the tarmac for an hour. We ran to security only to find the woman managing the x-ray machine declaring she wouldn’t sit down for a minute longer, determined to man the walk-through x-ray machine. This left a trainee to take the seat at the bag-check. The conveyer stopped and started. Bags went through the machine and back again as she got the hang of the equipment. Meanwhile, our names were being called over the loudspeaker. Kristen’s bag was double-checked and they decided to personally inspect the contents of Zenobia’s bag too. We ran all the way to the plane and the doors closed behind us. Just.

The first of two Melbourne gigs was at the Brunswick Hotel at ‘Passionate Tongues’. An eclectic audience turned out to read at the open-mic and listen to our poets. Rob took off one shoe for his performance and left it off for the night. It was that kind of laid-back atmosphere.

Zonobia bought herself a cane in Melbourne –complete with a gold elephant-head handle. She sported this – as well as a hat – for the gig at the Spinning Room the next evening. She was encored and brought back for one further poem that night.

Two radio interviews and poetry readings yesterday and today. 4RRR and 4CR. Networking dinner at Little Lonsdale St tonight.

There has been much talk between us, between the poets about style, form. How moments of synchronicity link ideas, people and places. There has been much rummaging through retro fashion and bric-a-brac stores. Much coffee, much laughter. Great company. And, of course, great poetry. Kristen is off researching at the State Library, poems brewing in her mind. Rob is chasing that next LP, that great 48. Zenobia is roaming the museum.

We head to Launceston today, though my iphone weather application says there’s no such place.

BWF rocks!

The number of party sessions outnumbered my author sessions at BWF. There were cocktail parties for Queensland Writers Centre, UQP authors, breakfast with UQP YA authors, and drinks in the Breezeway. And then there was the Hospitality suite at the Mantra in room 401 after 9pm. Yes, I went, I partied, I loved every minute.

My first session was at The Fringe Festival on Thursday night at the Fox Hotel. Rebecca Sparrow, Kate Hunter and myself were the UQP team facing off against the un-published authors from Burn Collective. Think Spics and Specs meets Rocky Horror Picture show kinda atmosphere and you get the idea. It was a theatre sports style event where each team had to write something funny in under two minutes. Blurbs, Acrostic poems and prose. The main thing to understand about this event was that we weren’t supposed to win. At The Fox, un-published authors rule – despite our rather witty acrostic poem to Rose Hancock-Porteous (Ben Law I shall never forgive you). There was staged tension, fighting and hurling of insults. So the strange man dressed in women’s clothing declared the ‘Un-Published’ to be the winners. What did we really care? We know Nick Earls. So there.

I’d been to see James Roy in action for his session with high school kids. Man is that guy funny. Lucky for me his session was on in the morning because I excused myself from the festival, drove home and spent three hours polishing my session for the next day. The bar was high.

Not sure if it was the very late night in room 401 or inspiration from James, but my session rocked. I had a ball. The kids listened, they laughed, they said funny things. Sandgate and Rochedale High rock! (ok my fascination with ‘rocks’ is due to suite 401 where there are bowls of ‘UQP rocks’ lollies. Not that UQP rocks because they have lollies in bowls at the suite, but because the lollies actually say ‘UQP rocks’. It stuck with me.)

Memorable people:

Kristina Schultz (my publisher) Meredene Hill (my marketing manager), all the Kristy’s, Kirsty’s, Christina’s and Madonna from UQP, Sophie Hamley, Sheryl Clarke, Tristan Bancks (and his gorgeous kids) James Roy (ask him the joke about the zoo) Brian Faulkner, Scott Monk, Molly Palmer, Craig Silvey, Sam Martin, Stuart Glover, Sarah Holland-Batt, Chris Somerville, Chris Currie, Brian, Krissy Kneen, Kirsten Reid, Inga Simpson, Nike Burke, Rebecca Sparrow, Olivia (hostess in 401) and that other woman from 401 (shall remain nameless because she refused to give her name) You should all have sweets engraved with your rockiness (except the nameless lady).

Memorable moments:

Protestors at the opening night address, laughing too loud in ‘quiet moments’ being confused for Bettina Arndt (sex lady) and Belinda Jeffreys (the cook – yes her again). Smashing glasses at the end of at least two nights (or was that Bettina Arndt?) making a girl jump in my session by acting out how a crocodile jumps out of the water. Christian Lauder’s session, Julia Morris’s funny stories and making Nick Earls think he had lettuce stuck in his teeth just before his session started.

It’s back to organising events for other authors this week. Cleaning, folding washing and sinking into the world of my latest novel which must be finished soon. Seriously, this job rocks.

Brisbane Writers Festival

Check out the Program for the Brisbane writers Festival which begins in a few weeks. I’ll be giving a session on Friday Morning for Word Play.

Come along to Avid Reader on Friday Night and support the Indigenous Literary Project at the Great Book Swap. The program aims to raise money and increase awareness for Indigenous Literacy. Tickets are $15

Bring along a favourite book or two, hand them in for auction and purchase another book. All money raised goes to the Fred Hollows Foundation.

Want to know more? Check out the website.

BBB’ newsletter is out. Great author events with Antony Beevor and others. There’s a  chance to win movie tickets to see Balibo and theatre tickets for QTC’s ‘The Year of Magical Thinking’. If you sign up to the newsletter by emailing bbbcoordinator@yahoo.com.au you can go into the draw to win a copy of the book “The Last Ride”.

Click on the link here and check it out.

BBB August newsletter

If you’re free on Friday night and are looking for something to do, come on down to Mary Ryans at Paddington and say hello. I’ll be there with three other authors talking about how books and how we do what we do – I had better figure this part out by then. There’ll be John Danalis, Zachery Jane, Noel Tuckey and myself.

Where: Mary Ryans Paddinton, Latrobe Tce, Paddington

When: Friday 31st July, 6:30pm

Free!