Tuesday, 11 August 2015
One last edit
I have met so many authors that I have developed brain crushes on over the weekend and have been inspired beyond measure. John Marsden told us that he has learnt not to edit while he's writing because then he never gets anywhere, and I realised that this was also my own problem. Not just in my writing, but in my life. I mentioned in 'Day one at View Street' all the unrealistic 'when I grow up I want to be's' that I had as a child, but I'm still playing that game, changing my mind on a daily basis, depending on what seems like the shiniest future on that particular day. The flaw in this plan is that I never do grow up. What I need to do is pick a plot and follow that storyline to see where it takes me, because by constantly editing my life, I remain stuck in the first chapter. So one last edit, before I get the hell on with it: whatever I do with my life, and whoever I am when I grow up, I am going to be a writer too.
Monday, 10 August 2015
Saturday A Few points on Plotting
Even the most realistic fiction is not like real life, life doesn't have a 'shape'. Plots are important to stories, they give them shape and direction, which is what keeps the reader turning the page. When I'm trying to write a story in my amateur way, as my plot thickens it becomes confusing and I wonder whether it continues to make sense for the reader, especially if I'm having trouble following it myself. In this session Ellie Marnie, Geraldine Wooller and Peter Timms told us how they go about plotting their stories.
Ellie informs the audience that there are two types of authors, 'plotters' and 'pantsers', that is, flying by the seat of your pants. She admits that she never starts with a plot, if she has a vague idea of where she wants the story to end up, she has no idea of how she's going to take it there. Her plot develops as an outgrowth of the character.
The characters are as important as the plot, the story relying on their credibility. A back story is developed for each character to explain what made them who they are, sneakily inserting a plot within the plot. And to write reactions that stay true to the character's character, Ellie says that she asks him or her questions such as 'how do you behave when you get angry?', 'what makes you afraid?', and 'what are you passionate about?' Peter suggests that a character can be an amalgam of different people you've known. Your characters don't necessarily have to be likable, but they do have to be interesting. People-watching can provide authors with new ideas for interesting characters.
An important component of the plot is that the characters need to have evolved by the end of the story, which resonates with John Marsden's insightful quote that "we’re all born at a station called ignorance, but we don’t have to stay there... That real-life journey should be in the fiction."
During question time someone wanted to know how the authors decided between all the possibilities on how to bring their plot together at the end. Ellie said that this was the down-side to being a pantser: sometimes you just have to follow a plot lead until it peters out, and then try again. Which is kind of what has just happened with this blog post :/
And we all lived happily ever after.
There, that's better.
Ellie informs the audience that there are two types of authors, 'plotters' and 'pantsers', that is, flying by the seat of your pants. She admits that she never starts with a plot, if she has a vague idea of where she wants the story to end up, she has no idea of how she's going to take it there. Her plot develops as an outgrowth of the character.
The characters are as important as the plot, the story relying on their credibility. A back story is developed for each character to explain what made them who they are, sneakily inserting a plot within the plot. And to write reactions that stay true to the character's character, Ellie says that she asks him or her questions such as 'how do you behave when you get angry?', 'what makes you afraid?', and 'what are you passionate about?' Peter suggests that a character can be an amalgam of different people you've known. Your characters don't necessarily have to be likable, but they do have to be interesting. People-watching can provide authors with new ideas for interesting characters.
An important component of the plot is that the characters need to have evolved by the end of the story, which resonates with John Marsden's insightful quote that "we’re all born at a station called ignorance, but we don’t have to stay there... That real-life journey should be in the fiction."
During question time someone wanted to know how the authors decided between all the possibilities on how to bring their plot together at the end. Ellie said that this was the down-side to being a pantser: sometimes you just have to follow a plot lead until it peters out, and then try again. Which is kind of what has just happened with this blog post :/
And we all lived happily ever after.
There, that's better.
Sunday, 9 August 2015
Saturday Be the Press
In the am we began in the session 'Be the Press' in which we were able to ask three authors: Anson Cameron, Anna George and Erika Hayes questions as if we were reporters. I am now of course fully convinced that I want to be an author, and there were some interesting things that came out of this session for me.
The authors agreed that it is much easier for them to work with a new character that they've created. New beings are malleable. They then create back stories for their characters to articulate how they came to be the person that they are. These fully fleshed characters are at this point problematic beings.
I was interested to know how to make a living out of being an author so I put my hand up and asked "do you have other jobs, and if so, is that by choice or necessity?"
Anna and Erika both said that they don't have other jobs, but also that they do not make a living off their writing. Although they do make a small profit, Erika said that "I'd couldn't eat if my husband didn't work". This is interesting. I wonder how Jason would feel about supporting me while I try to make it as a writer.
Anson, who is a novelist and a columnist, is a full-time writer, but says that it doesn't pay much.
I learnt more about how to tackle research. Anna writes crime fiction, and I have always wondered how to approach getting the authorities characters authentic. She said that she has been emailing a medium liaison in the the police force who's job it is to deal with the media. Erika said that this can also be done with other investigating agencies such as the FBI and that they like to be represented accurately.
Finally, all the authors said that they set their stories in Melbourne Australia. This has been a pretty popular theme for most of the different authors that I have seen, however is not popular from the point of the views of British and American publishers. The reason that they do use Melbourne is because the writers know Melbourne, and therefore can facilitate an authentic experience for the reader. I whole-heartedly agree with writing about Australia, whether the genre be romance, urban fantasy, horror, crime fiction, etc. I love Australia, and as Anson said: “Australia is just as important a world as any other, Australian hearts still break with the same poignancy as those of Kings and Queens”.
The authors agreed that it is much easier for them to work with a new character that they've created. New beings are malleable. They then create back stories for their characters to articulate how they came to be the person that they are. These fully fleshed characters are at this point problematic beings.
I was interested to know how to make a living out of being an author so I put my hand up and asked "do you have other jobs, and if so, is that by choice or necessity?"
Anna and Erika both said that they don't have other jobs, but also that they do not make a living off their writing. Although they do make a small profit, Erika said that "I'd couldn't eat if my husband didn't work". This is interesting. I wonder how Jason would feel about supporting me while I try to make it as a writer.
Anson, who is a novelist and a columnist, is a full-time writer, but says that it doesn't pay much.
I learnt more about how to tackle research. Anna writes crime fiction, and I have always wondered how to approach getting the authorities characters authentic. She said that she has been emailing a medium liaison in the the police force who's job it is to deal with the media. Erika said that this can also be done with other investigating agencies such as the FBI and that they like to be represented accurately.
Finally, all the authors said that they set their stories in Melbourne Australia. This has been a pretty popular theme for most of the different authors that I have seen, however is not popular from the point of the views of British and American publishers. The reason that they do use Melbourne is because the writers know Melbourne, and therefore can facilitate an authentic experience for the reader. I whole-heartedly agree with writing about Australia, whether the genre be romance, urban fantasy, horror, crime fiction, etc. I love Australia, and as Anson said: “Australia is just as important a world as any other, Australian hearts still break with the same poignancy as those of Kings and Queens”.
Saturday, 8 August 2015
Friday
We managed to leave so that we would make it to Ulumbarra Theater by 10 o'clock, but then detoured via Coles to buy bananas. On arrival of the Theater, we somehow entered back stage where we were scolded and directed out to the public area. We were late again.
Ulumbarra is the first significant building in this area to be given a Dja Dja Wurrung name meaning 'gather together' and 'meeting place', apparently reflecting the the original Indigenous use of the place. The building has a 160 year history as a prison where three people were hung from the neck till they died within its walls. And now, in its newest reincarnation as a state-of-the-art 1,000 seat theater, Sarah Mayor Cox and our teacher Dr Due Gillet interviewed a panel of children's authors game show style. Of the six authors in the 'Welcome & Opening Session', John Marsden and Alice Pung were definitely the stand-out speakers. The questions were intended to inform us about these authors as people, and Alice Pung put a lot of thought into her softly spoken answers. Her sweetness won the audience.
The next session called 'Crossing Over', we were fortunate enough to have Alice and John again, this time speaking about their writing and the target audience change in both their most recent work. 'Laurinda' is a fictional novel based on much of Alice's real life experiences growing up as a Chinese immigrant in a poor town and receiving a scholarship to attend a prestigious private school. She really looked into the ideas of class and ethnicity and how they play a role in the opportunities that people receive in life, and her characters experience growing up between cultures. Alice in her modesty, always managed to steer the conversation back to John's new book 'South of Darkness'.
John gave the audience tips and hints for creative writing and budding authors. His tip of the day was; "Give the writer the ending they want, and if you don't, you'd better be damn sure that you're giving them a better one, because otherwise they'll be angry at you."
Ulumbarra is the first significant building in this area to be given a Dja Dja Wurrung name meaning 'gather together' and 'meeting place', apparently reflecting the the original Indigenous use of the place. The building has a 160 year history as a prison where three people were hung from the neck till they died within its walls. And now, in its newest reincarnation as a state-of-the-art 1,000 seat theater, Sarah Mayor Cox and our teacher Dr Due Gillet interviewed a panel of children's authors game show style. Of the six authors in the 'Welcome & Opening Session', John Marsden and Alice Pung were definitely the stand-out speakers. The questions were intended to inform us about these authors as people, and Alice Pung put a lot of thought into her softly spoken answers. Her sweetness won the audience.
The next session called 'Crossing Over', we were fortunate enough to have Alice and John again, this time speaking about their writing and the target audience change in both their most recent work. 'Laurinda' is a fictional novel based on much of Alice's real life experiences growing up as a Chinese immigrant in a poor town and receiving a scholarship to attend a prestigious private school. She really looked into the ideas of class and ethnicity and how they play a role in the opportunities that people receive in life, and her characters experience growing up between cultures. Alice in her modesty, always managed to steer the conversation back to John's new book 'South of Darkness'.
John gave the audience tips and hints for creative writing and budding authors. His tip of the day was; "Give the writer the ending they want, and if you don't, you'd better be damn sure that you're giving them a better one, because otherwise they'll be angry at you."
Despite the fact that the next session was also in the Ulumbarra Theater, I still managed to be half an hour late- don't ask. And so I don’t know much about the true story of some ladies
transition into a man, F 2 M by Hazel Edwards, but I did learn a bit about the
extent of research that goes into writing a successful novel. Hazel worked very
closely with her transgender character to achieve (what I can only assume as I
have not read it), an accurate voice for our hero. Hazel brags that in the past
she has been to Antarctica in the name of research. These lengths must be
necessary for authenticity, though I do wonder if the sales cover these costs,
and more so in the case of F 2 M, which unfortunately interests a limited niche
group, which was emulated in the relative lack of audience. Despite this, I
have been inspired again, research sounds rad.
John Marsden spoke again in the ‘Tomorrow When the Stories
Began’ session. I didn’t dare go and pee between sessions in case I missed the
start, and I braved the throng of students to sit towards the front of the
theater. A few more John Marsden words of wisdom:
“We write and create because we want to be admired.”
“The more you write the better you get.”
“Don’t edit as you go”, this piece of advice is good for me, I have the same problem that I never get anywhere because I’m constantly editing.
“Dialogue is a good way to break up a story or give it energy, but too much is not good.”
“We’re all born at a station called ignorance, but we don’t have to stay there. That would be bad, a crime. We can take the journey to wisdom, enlightenment or awareness. Though we’ll never reach total awareness. That real-life journey should be in the fiction.”
“We can break grammatical rules, because if we know the rules, we’re above them.” (The title ‘Tomorrow When the War Began’ is grammatically incorrect.)
“The thing about Einstein is he thought outside the box.” “Yeah, but he knew what was in the box.” (Quoting someone else).
“We write and create because we want to be admired.”
“The more you write the better you get.”
“Don’t edit as you go”, this piece of advice is good for me, I have the same problem that I never get anywhere because I’m constantly editing.
“Dialogue is a good way to break up a story or give it energy, but too much is not good.”
“We’re all born at a station called ignorance, but we don’t have to stay there. That would be bad, a crime. We can take the journey to wisdom, enlightenment or awareness. Though we’ll never reach total awareness. That real-life journey should be in the fiction.”
“We can break grammatical rules, because if we know the rules, we’re above them.” (The title ‘Tomorrow When the War Began’ is grammatically incorrect.)
“The thing about Einstein is he thought outside the box.” “Yeah, but he knew what was in the box.” (Quoting someone else).
When John talked about the ending of his Tomorrow When the War Began series, I stuck my fingers in my ears because I've only read the first four books.
Finally, I attended the G 'n' Tea Show (Poetry Special).
"You guys were buying bananas this morning in Coles" a man with curly grey hair and glasses said to me and Josh. He was Bruce, one of the poets in the session. John and Bronwyn made three poets. They spoke about the importance of poetry for society, their favorite poets, and their own work.
John's poetry made us laugh.
Bronwyn made us shiver.
Bruce made us cry.
Thursday, 6 August 2015
Day one at View Street
I'm always prepared. And I'm always on time. I'm very highly strung. My good friend Josh is none of the above.
I woke at 6am and put away Chris' dishes accumulated from another productive night of baking. In a bowl I mixed together some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Then I grated in two carrots and spooned the resulting salad mix into an empty Nutella jar. In our walk-in-pantry, as I was filling up a small pot with nuts and sultanas, an almond escaped and it took a minutes to found it among my housemates bags and open packets of food which for some reason are strewn across the floor and not on the shelves. Then porridge for brekky with chia seeds, honey and cinnamon and an anti-inflammatory tablet. I checked Facebook for updates on Writers in Action. I checked LMS which finally showed WIA in my subject list, so I read all the news and comments from earlier in the week. I'd had a shower last night and packed my bag so that I'd have more time this morning. So you might be getting the idea of how organised I am.
At 9am I called Josh who said that he was on the train from Castlemaine, just passed Kangaroo Flat, and would be at my house soon. Good, then we would walk to Ulumbarra Theater together and make it there hopefully before class at 10am to play some hacky sack- spot the outdoor edder..
Josh turned up at 9:30am, my bag was over my shoulder, my foot out the door. He dumped his bag on the living room floor and started to unpack his sleepingbag and the other essentials that he would need while he stayed at my house for the next 5 days.
"We should get going" I said.
"I've just got to go to the toilet quickly."
6 minutes later Josh exited the toilet.
"We've got to be there in 20 minutes, we should leave" I coaxed.
Josh noticed my pouch of tobacco on the table and alerted me of this.
"I don't smoke during the day" I said, standing half inside and half out.
"Do you mind if I do?"
I said "that's fine", but I wanted to leave five minutes ago.
"Do you mind if I take one of yours?'
I looked at the time on my phone. I said that I don't. So he rolled one. And with 15 minutes to get there we headed out the door.
On foot we made our way to Ulumbarra Theatre while I told him a witty story about the most recent prospective new housemate that Chris and I had met with.
Google maps on my phone told me that we had arrived, but because of construction work obstructing our mission, we blundered around the old Victorian building and through its' cafe, wasting precious minutes, before asking for directions to the theater which was concealed somewhere within the confusion of architecture. We made it in the nick of time, just to be told that we were in the wrong place, and that we should actually be at the Visual Arts Centre.
15 minutes later, we walked into the classroom, sneaking passed the intently listening students to the dark seats left at the back of the room.
When I decided to do this class (Writers in Action), it was because I was injured, again, and could not participate in 2nd year White Water. In case you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, I am enrolled in the coolest Bachelor in the world; Outdoor Education. This left me with a total of two subjects which is not considered full-time study by Centerlink resulting in the discontinuation of my darling Austudy payments. Luckily, Sandra Wardle (you know of her if you're a La Trobe Uni student) sent around an email advertising the Writers in Action class that runs for 5 days. I mean, this could possibly have been the easiest way to accumulate a third subject, right? And, I've always wanted to be a published writer, well that as well as a detective, a veterinarian, an anthropologist, an archeologist, a horse whisperer and a vampire slayer. So I think we can safely say that fiction is a viable avenue of literature I could pursue. Our teacher Sue armed us with festival programs, timetables, assessment tasks, social media expertise (she started Twittering 10 minutes ago), and ideas for how to approach the festival including this research assignment titled 'What makes a writers festival?' I will admit, I'm drawing a blank for the research assignment, but I'm so excited about the program for the upcoming days.
Classes were over at 5pm. Josh and I had decided not to attend the welcome dinner where we could have met the children's' authors because it cost $45 and we're broke-ass uni students. Instead, we attended the free Fringe Festival Launch in the town library. The Fringe Festival will be running coincide the Bendigo Writers Festival, and at the launch the mayor talked about Bendigo being Indigenous Country, about the new Mosque, the gold mining history and this exhibitions displays from new and upcoming poets and artists. I really enjoyed some of the poems, and what was equally as awesome was the free finger food and wine. While I read all the poems and looked at all the pictures, Josh sought out the artists themselves and conducted interviews with them for his research assignment. I had still not come up with any ideas for my own assignment, so I poured another glass of wine and called Ariel to tell him that Chris and I had decided that he could be our new housemate if he wanted to, and he did.
We stopped by the bottolo on the way home. I made a beeline for the $3.50 cleanskins and picked up a bottle. Josh did too.
"Don't you think one bottle will be enough" I asked.
Josh didn't think that one bottle would be enough, so we bought two and went home to start blogging about our day. At home we sat outside and drank wine, smoked cigarettes and talked, often about how in a minute we'd go inside and start blogging. Chris got home from work and was so happy to see Josh that he hugged him. Then he offered us slices of pizza.
"There's a cat" Chris pointed to the back of the garden.
It was the orange cat that is always yowling for Angie-the-cat's attention. Sadly, Angie will be moving out soon, so a few days ago I thought it would be a good idea to befriend this orange cat so that I'd have someone to pat once she's gone. I'd coaxed the cat into the house. He had walked in confidently, headed to the kitchen where Angie was having her breakfast, and pissed on the wall.
"There's this character Syrio from Game of Thrones who trained to be fast by chasing cats" Chris told us.
"So sometimes, when I'm delivering pizzas and I see a cat, I'll chase it."
"WHAT?"
"But I never catch them because they go down drains and it's annoying. One time this drunk guy came out of his house and he thought that I'd come out of his garage and he said; 'hey, what are you doing in my garage?' And I said: 'I wasn't in your garage, I was just chasing a cat man.'"
And I knew that I should have started writing about Chris as soon as I met him, he's a goldmine.
"Do you know what kimchi is?" Chris asked Josh.
On Friday morning I woke up at 6am, tired, hungover and with a sore throat. I left Chris' pile of dishes in the drying rack and made my lunch. In the pantry an almond escaped as I filled up the little pot. I didn't bother to look for it. When I opened the fridge the fermented smell of pickled cabbage assaulted my nostrils and I dry retched. I ate bacon for breakfast.
I woke at 6am and put away Chris' dishes accumulated from another productive night of baking. In a bowl I mixed together some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Then I grated in two carrots and spooned the resulting salad mix into an empty Nutella jar. In our walk-in-pantry, as I was filling up a small pot with nuts and sultanas, an almond escaped and it took a minutes to found it among my housemates bags and open packets of food which for some reason are strewn across the floor and not on the shelves. Then porridge for brekky with chia seeds, honey and cinnamon and an anti-inflammatory tablet. I checked Facebook for updates on Writers in Action. I checked LMS which finally showed WIA in my subject list, so I read all the news and comments from earlier in the week. I'd had a shower last night and packed my bag so that I'd have more time this morning. So you might be getting the idea of how organised I am.
At 9am I called Josh who said that he was on the train from Castlemaine, just passed Kangaroo Flat, and would be at my house soon. Good, then we would walk to Ulumbarra Theater together and make it there hopefully before class at 10am to play some hacky sack- spot the outdoor edder..
Josh turned up at 9:30am, my bag was over my shoulder, my foot out the door. He dumped his bag on the living room floor and started to unpack his sleepingbag and the other essentials that he would need while he stayed at my house for the next 5 days.
"We should get going" I said.
"I've just got to go to the toilet quickly."
6 minutes later Josh exited the toilet.
"We've got to be there in 20 minutes, we should leave" I coaxed.
Josh noticed my pouch of tobacco on the table and alerted me of this.
"I don't smoke during the day" I said, standing half inside and half out.
"Do you mind if I do?"
I said "that's fine", but I wanted to leave five minutes ago.
"Do you mind if I take one of yours?'
I looked at the time on my phone. I said that I don't. So he rolled one. And with 15 minutes to get there we headed out the door.
On foot we made our way to Ulumbarra Theatre while I told him a witty story about the most recent prospective new housemate that Chris and I had met with.
Google maps on my phone told me that we had arrived, but because of construction work obstructing our mission, we blundered around the old Victorian building and through its' cafe, wasting precious minutes, before asking for directions to the theater which was concealed somewhere within the confusion of architecture. We made it in the nick of time, just to be told that we were in the wrong place, and that we should actually be at the Visual Arts Centre.
15 minutes later, we walked into the classroom, sneaking passed the intently listening students to the dark seats left at the back of the room.
When I decided to do this class (Writers in Action), it was because I was injured, again, and could not participate in 2nd year White Water. In case you are wondering what on earth I am talking about, I am enrolled in the coolest Bachelor in the world; Outdoor Education. This left me with a total of two subjects which is not considered full-time study by Centerlink resulting in the discontinuation of my darling Austudy payments. Luckily, Sandra Wardle (you know of her if you're a La Trobe Uni student) sent around an email advertising the Writers in Action class that runs for 5 days. I mean, this could possibly have been the easiest way to accumulate a third subject, right? And, I've always wanted to be a published writer, well that as well as a detective, a veterinarian, an anthropologist, an archeologist, a horse whisperer and a vampire slayer. So I think we can safely say that fiction is a viable avenue of literature I could pursue. Our teacher Sue armed us with festival programs, timetables, assessment tasks, social media expertise (she started Twittering 10 minutes ago), and ideas for how to approach the festival including this research assignment titled 'What makes a writers festival?' I will admit, I'm drawing a blank for the research assignment, but I'm so excited about the program for the upcoming days.
Classes were over at 5pm. Josh and I had decided not to attend the welcome dinner where we could have met the children's' authors because it cost $45 and we're broke-ass uni students. Instead, we attended the free Fringe Festival Launch in the town library. The Fringe Festival will be running coincide the Bendigo Writers Festival, and at the launch the mayor talked about Bendigo being Indigenous Country, about the new Mosque, the gold mining history and this exhibitions displays from new and upcoming poets and artists. I really enjoyed some of the poems, and what was equally as awesome was the free finger food and wine. While I read all the poems and looked at all the pictures, Josh sought out the artists themselves and conducted interviews with them for his research assignment. I had still not come up with any ideas for my own assignment, so I poured another glass of wine and called Ariel to tell him that Chris and I had decided that he could be our new housemate if he wanted to, and he did.
We stopped by the bottolo on the way home. I made a beeline for the $3.50 cleanskins and picked up a bottle. Josh did too.
"Don't you think one bottle will be enough" I asked.
Josh didn't think that one bottle would be enough, so we bought two and went home to start blogging about our day. At home we sat outside and drank wine, smoked cigarettes and talked, often about how in a minute we'd go inside and start blogging. Chris got home from work and was so happy to see Josh that he hugged him. Then he offered us slices of pizza.
"There's a cat" Chris pointed to the back of the garden.
It was the orange cat that is always yowling for Angie-the-cat's attention. Sadly, Angie will be moving out soon, so a few days ago I thought it would be a good idea to befriend this orange cat so that I'd have someone to pat once she's gone. I'd coaxed the cat into the house. He had walked in confidently, headed to the kitchen where Angie was having her breakfast, and pissed on the wall.
"There's this character Syrio from Game of Thrones who trained to be fast by chasing cats" Chris told us.
"So sometimes, when I'm delivering pizzas and I see a cat, I'll chase it."
"WHAT?"
"But I never catch them because they go down drains and it's annoying. One time this drunk guy came out of his house and he thought that I'd come out of his garage and he said; 'hey, what are you doing in my garage?' And I said: 'I wasn't in your garage, I was just chasing a cat man.'"
And I knew that I should have started writing about Chris as soon as I met him, he's a goldmine.
"Do you know what kimchi is?" Chris asked Josh.
On Friday morning I woke up at 6am, tired, hungover and with a sore throat. I left Chris' pile of dishes in the drying rack and made my lunch. In the pantry an almond escaped as I filled up the little pot. I didn't bother to look for it. When I opened the fridge the fermented smell of pickled cabbage assaulted my nostrils and I dry retched. I ate bacon for breakfast.
Tuesday, 4 August 2015
On Thursday a Disney Princess
I should say that Chris would have been happy with all of the people that came to see the room, he’s very accepting. So it is a good thing that I’m here.
On Wednesday afternoon Mel messaged me that Ariel, an accountant who works in Bendigo wanted to see the room. Ariel is the name of my favourite Disney princess. I should not have told Chris this.
On Thursday at 4pm Chris said that he had to make cookies. The dough was a delicious looking mess that extended from the bowl to the table, the microwave, the sink, the drying up towels and the floor. The baked version was flat as a pancake and impossible to remove wholly from the tray. Then at 4:45pm he hurried out the door saying that he had to get to the post office before it closed, leaving the kitchen a disaster for when Ariel arrived after work at 5:15pm.
Ariel appeared shy and awkward and his hand was limp when I shook it hello. This happens a lot, which is surprising as everybody knows that a firm handshake is supposed to say good things about your character. I wonder if my handshake is a result of that connotation, or my character, and if character, what does that imply?
He came in and I showed him the room and then the rest of the house. He said very little during the whole process and I was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable so I asked him if he’d like a cup of tea and he said he would. His hair kind of looked like mine, but much neater. He wore a smart grey jacket over a woollen jumper, suit pants and black shiny shoes. I wore hiking boots, op-shop jeans and a synthetic fill not-so-waterproof because of Angie-the-cat’s-claws jacket. Chris came home and seemed very flustered.
“Did you tell him about me?” he asked me.
“I said you were 22 and that you were making cookies” I replied.
Chris told Ariel a bit about himself in his hyperactive way of speaking and then told him “I like your jacket. I have one kind of like it, but not really, but it’s grey like that”.
I laughed at Chris because he’s hilarious, but also to show Ariel that I think Chris is weird, meaning that I’m not weird because by laughing I obviously can identify weird and not be weird myself- I have issues.
Chris said “do you know that you…” and he put his hand over his face like he was trying to think of the words to finish that sentence.
“…have the name of a prince? Jaci knows, you say it” he told me.
In my head; “oh god.”
Out loud; “Not a prince, Ariel is from ‘The Little Mermaid’”.
“Oh, then who is Ariel?”
“The mermaid.”
“Have you heard of kimchi?” Chris changed tactics.
Ariel had not, so Chris offered him some. I warned him that it was pickled cabbage and he declined for the time being.
“Do you work?” Ariel told him that he’s an accountant.
“Do you do any group activities?” Ariel said no. Chris told him about how he does swordcraft, which of course Ariel had never heard of, and when Chris asked him if he’d tried role playing games this confused him even more, as it did with Mel and myself when we first met Chris.
“Do you do any activities by yourself”. He said he played guitar.
“No way! I didn’t picture you playing guitar, and I’m usually really good at this. Like Josh” he indicated to me because Josh is my friend, “I could tell that Josh played the guitar for sure. Feel free to have some grapes” he offered from a bag.
The tea was ready, thank god, and I passed them each a mug and we went to sit at the dining table. Chris popped a container of pickled eggplant in front of us and told us that we should eat it because it was going to go off today. Then he poured milk from one of those plastic containers that come with sliced peaches in them into his tea cup. Ariel and I watched curiously as some milk made it into his tea cup, but more made it onto the table. I was glad that Ariel had declined milk in his tea. Then Chris continued to interview Ariel.
“So tell me about accounting.”
“There’s not really much to tell.”
“Just tell me something, anything. What do you do?”
“I work for a firm and give advice for investments for our clients who have self-managed super funds.”
“What’s a super fund?”
For the next 10 minutes we explained to Chris what a super fund is.
After some more unpredictable questioning Chris offered him another cup of tea. He’d already been here a very long time, and I was ready for him to leave, but he accepted. We all went back into the kitchen and while we waited for the water to boil Chris put more cookie dough onto the baking trays. He offered Ariel some raw cookie dough.
“Is it good?” he asked.
“Well of course it’s good” he answered himself “no one’s ever going to say that cookie dough’s not good.”
He explained to us that his fiancée who lives in Sydney is an incredible cook and that she'd sent him baked. He hoped that this would up the ante so that now she might send him a cake! And it dawned on me that that was the reason that he had to go to the post office earlier.
“Did you send Young Ju those cookies?” I asked incredulously.
The flat, still warm, and with a huge amount of melted chocolate chip cookies?
“Yes.”
Ariel and I laughed again. Or maybe we just continued to laugh.
“Why didn’t you just wait till tomorrow to send them?”
“Well that… would have been a good idea. But I was excited and I wanted to send them today.”
“I like your pants” Chris told Ariel.
Oh no Chris was running out of things to say.
Later we both agreed that we would call Ariel to tell him that he can have the room, but we both expressed that we wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t actually want it.
On Wednesday Chris freaked out
Chris came home late on Tuesday night. I haven't said that the residents of our house are quite quirky. Well, they are. And Chris may be the quirkiest person I’ve ever met. He had been fasting for seven days! He brought home bags and bags of food that he would eat at midnight.
Chris left for uni at 8:30am Wednesday morning. I've recently spent 16 days seakayaking the Whitsundays, during which I couldn't even rinse my hair with clean water. So it's a mess and I decided to chop it all off before meeting Kelly at 2 o’clock. I got home at 1:45 with short hair and sat down in the living room to look at the Writers in Action Facebook page. Slamming doors, stomping and some mysterious crashing told me that Chris was home. He wasn’t angry or anything, he’s never angry, he’s just always loud. I heard someone knock on the door and Chris opened it and greeted Kelly. I came out of the living room to meet her too and when Chris saw my hair he yelled at the top of his lungs. This is not unusual for Chris, he’s very loud, but it still startled me. The tiny 18 year old girl trapped in the corridor with us was quiet. Chris yelled loudly again. Kelly's face remained expressionless. I wondered what she was thinking. He yelled a third time before explaining to Kelly that in the morning my hair had been much longer.
I found Kelly odd, not as odd as Chris of course, but still... Her face was painted in orange foundation and she followed us around the house like a timid oompa loompa. So I began the farce where I said "we're meeting a few more people, but we'll get back to you later this week", and then she would wait hopefully for our call only to be told that "I'm sorry, but we decided to go with someone else. But good luck with finding a place". She is not the one.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace
Monday night Mel was in bed at her new place when a man who she said had an Indian accent called and said that he'd like to see the room. Mel said that that was great and that if he called back tomorrow she will have talked to me to find out what time I would be around to meet him.
"Can you do that now?"
In Mel's head; "Grrr.”
Out loud; "Ok.”
On Tuesday afternoon there was loud knocking at the door. "Coming", I was just moving my laptop from the kitchen (where I could see my breath) into the heated living room to start to get my head around this Writers in Action class, and it needed to be plugged into the power immediately because the batteries effed and only lasts about three minutes. The knocking continued and became louder. "I'M COMING". When I opened the door I was abruptly told in an accent that I'm not sure was Indian "I'm Julio" and he walked into the house. I've never met an Indian guy named Julio. He began firing questions at me.
"How much is the rent?" Maybe he was Mexican?
"$193" a fortnight.”
"Not for the whole house, just the room.” Or Spanish?
"That is for the room.” I was feeling confused.
"How much is the bills?" Eastern European?
"We have gas, electricity and water, it depends on how much we use. I can show you some bills we've had.”
"Yes.”
I showed him the room that would never be his. I didn't bother asking him any questions or telling him anything that he didn't specifically ask for, there was no point. He'd get a message in about a week that we've decided to give the room to someone else. I just hoped that we would actually have found someone else.
I told him that I'd be in touch as he barged back out of the house.
"Yes bye" he stated. Korean?
Monday’s child is fair of face
On Monday morning Mel messaged me that a girl wanted to see the room. I hurried home from uni after filling out paperwork to enroll in the subject 'Writers in Action,' which brings my subject count to 3 for this semester, ensuring continued payments from Centrelink.
When I arrived home there were two people waiting on the front porch patting Angie the cat. They reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I introduced myself, and Jane said "hi, I'm Jane and this is Leigh, he doesn't talk much". Leigh smiled revealing pink gum and a few black teeth. I wasn't expecting two people, but the rent divided by four is better than by three (I know this even though I'm an Outdoor Education student).
I showed them the room which will never be theirs, as well as the rest of the house. Jane was a large girl, with acne scarring on her face and spoke bogan English. Leigh was skinny as a rake, and had never brushed his teeth as far as I could tell.
As I chatted to them I found out they had been living in a caravan for the last week after his mother had fought with Jane and had kicked them out.
I looked at Leigh to see what he had to say about that.
"Sorry, I don't talk much" he said in a surprisingly sweet voice.
And then he started to talk.
"My mum's really religious and she doesn't like me having my girlfriend over because we're not married. She was the same with my last girlfriend and I had a baby with her."
When I asked what they did, I found out that they were both unemployed and receiving the dole.
"Do you like to drink?" Jane asked me hopefully, "because we like to drink" she said, trying to find something to bond over.
I told them that "Chris is still in Melbourne at the moment, and of course he will need to talk to them before we make any decisions. That we're meeting a few more people in the next few days, but I'll get back to them on Wednesday or Thursday when Chris is back.” I realised that was three days away, I'd panicked.
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