This Woman's Work

In the past month, I have opened up to three writing collaborations.

One with a friend from Improv who shares an admiration for Shaun Micallef, Steve Martin, Wes Anderson and Super Mario Bros. (A) has creative industry and marketing degrees, applied skills in sound mixing and works as a copy writer. This partnership is particularly exciting because (A) is so damn excited about ideas and supposing, which in turn, challenges my creative thinking and positions me to consider new perspectives. I don't often share my work with others, but as it happens, a script and a blog I had written were our entry points to brainstorming and realising some writing projects together. I really appreciated the feedback on my writing and the opportunity to hear not only an outsider's opinion - but that of a very talented writer. I have paid close attention to the ways he gives feedback - complimenting, smiling, acknowledging ideas and directions. When he offers new ideas, directions and discourses - they're still fundamentally related to my original work (and they happen to be very interesting too). We have tossed up ideas for a feature trailer, one-act play and radio sketch/series.

A second collaboration is with a friend of a friend (M) who is a writer/director/editor/VFX specialist. We have never worked together - only socialised - but there is definitely the grounds for a diplomatic relationship. Hopefully we can bounce of each other to produce a short for the SOYA film section due in 54 days (according the website - I'm not pedanticly stressed, simply too lazy to calculate the due date myself... early July I should think).

The third union is with a dear friend and brilliant novellist-to-be. She suggested we gather for a writing session in the library, to force us to sit and down and write without distraction. I thought this would entail us mostly focused on our individual projects, but we talked and traded work and wrote one word/phrase/sentence at a time story, which I learnt in Improv. It was hilarious and suprising and words flowed like champagne the following 30 minutes before pack up. She spoke very encouragingly about my 31 Digital Series - which I am 90% sure has been passed on. That is, "given a pass" not "passed onto executives at the ABC for development because it is so brilliant and that's why it's taking so long to hear back from them". I say, it's awfully unprofessional not to acknowledge my submission and return a "thanks, but..." email. My dear friend said we ought to write a TV show together. I am not sure how this would go considering we don't watch much of the same television. I am open to the process however, if she is really keen.

I didn't get in my port folio to SOYA's written word competition two days ago, which was disheartening. I was lousy with my time management and assumed the uploading would take a couple of minutes. The site frigged me around with its formatting standards, hidden icons and bandwidth for 20 minutes - the last 20 minutes to deadline. I should have edited my work sooner as opposed to the day of. Lesson learned (for the zillionith time).

I've decided to write a poem for Mother's Day. I got the idea after stumbling upon a American Christian sermon on AM radio. Following a microsleep at the traffic lights, I thought it'd be a fine idea to stay alive and so I blared the most engaging, annoying commentary throughout the car and into the street (the windows being down to smack blistering cold air in my tired face). The broadcast caught my attention (and inspired my gift idea) with the recycling of pastor W.L. Caldwell's Mother's Day sermon from 1928. It began like an ode to all mothers then became a chastising of "modern" mothers and made reference to the ideal women of biblical times. The 2013 pastor delivered this and added several of his own points - again, idealising the "motherly" role of women and hating on women with careers, who neglect their children or who choose to have "selfish abortions".

I'm not a mother but I often think about how I'll raise my children, what important lessons I want to demonstrate to them and what legacy I'll leave them. I still don't want to have children for another 6-8 years because these are the days that I want to establish the worst most horrible, unfulfilling, selfish thing in the world - a career. Maybe there will be no greater defining moment in my life than when I love and become responsible for lil Clarence, Wesley and Abigail (surrogate names).

But a career - stimulating, contributory, positive, character-building, society-progressing work - shouldn't be underestimated or scoffed at. Life is about doing things and work is as valuable and necessary as it comes. To develop skills, a sense of worth, to form ideas, connect with others and their ideas; to feel something beginning and unfolding and growing and one day accomplishing something long-awaited and hard-earned is incredible. In biblical times, life was simply about survival: eat, pray, love. Humanity is an evolutionary species, you can't deny that. We need to feel challenged and do more.

It was so ridiculously hypocritical and nonsensical that this Christian pastor should look to the model of an ancient marriage and exemplify the gender roles within in it, whilst condemning its polygamous nature as a side-note. The story was about Elkanah who married a barron woman named Hannah, so he married again to a woman named Sarah to have his children. Apparently, this hurt Hannah for she could not give her husband blessed heirs, in addition to making her jealous of the other lady in the household. The 'moral' was that Elkanah's first and enduring love was still Hannah and he displayed this in public by giving her large helpings of dinner. The what?

After that verbal assault / mind-fuck, I continued to evaluate a woman's worth, or perhaps, work. Recently, I started a volunteer project with a young woman from Saudi Arabia. She is my age and has been married over a year, explainng that it is her culture's norm for women to settle down with a family in their early 20s. I met her husband yesterday as well. Both of the Saudi nationals are incredibly kind and mature and seem capable of sharing a long, happy, respectful marriage. Both want careers at the same time. A Somali woman I met through another community program was surprised that I didn't have children like her (at 19 she had her first child, today at 28 she has 5 altogether). Whilst I feel she has missed out on the wonderful things of higher education and work opportunities that I value, this woman couldn't help but feel sad for my motherless situation.

Neither life choice/challenge is ill-advised. The next woman will always want something different. My plan is to follow my dream to write because it makes me happy, it makes me think abouts new things, old things, people and relationships, humanity and life in general. This stuff enriches me. I want my child to discover the wide world; find something in it that's beautiful, that makes her laugh and wonder with amusement, that inspires her to better it and make the most every day's possibilities, that she may learn to navigate it and feel comfortable being amongst it, feel the high of achievement, the rush of love and awe of self-growth.

Anyway...

I've been reading High Fidelity by Nick Hornby which is an utterly depressing account of someone living half-hearted / broken-hearted. Still, it's an engaging and easy read. I've been thumbing through Shaun Micallef's Smithereens, Syliva Plath's Poems, George Carlin's When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops? and the amusingly biased The Courier Mail.

I performed Improv in front of a live audience for graduation two nights ago. I was nervous and also paired with an incredibly nervous partner. Our scenes had highs and lows and honestly, we never gelled, but it was still a heap of fun. It wasn't so nerve-racking at the show went on and I am thirsty for more. I know I can become better at this if I seriously committ to it. The last month I've had little energy/inclination to perform Improv, for a variety of contextual/chemical reasons, but it may just well be the thing to inspire my creativity and save me from hopeless ponderings. Second term, sign me up.