Notes of Substance

Recently, I read another piece on womens' experiences of everyday sexism and the impact it has on their lives. Laura Bates, founder of the Everyday Sexism project cites findings from a recent study which suggest that " a sociocultural context that objectifies women and their bodies is related to their sense of safety and security in the world”. Earlier in the month, it was Jessica Valenti, on how sexism is making women sick.   Bates' piece in the Guardian explored the impact that harassment and sexism have on women over time. It is not just the incident itself, but the effect on a woman's psychological bearing in the world . This piece made me reflect, again, on all the times that men had threatened me, flashed at me, and made unwanted physical and verbal advances at me throughout my growing up. M any grimy, offensive things have happened, including turning up for work experience to find that the experience involved the boss pushing his hard dick into my back...

At one stage, I wanted a proper fence for our little picket fence home. Our tiny front garden was on a busy suburban street, so to make to the most of it I thought we could get a higher fence, with an electric gate to the driveway. It would keep the balls in, the kids safe from wanderings, and we could drive straight in from the road. Two quotes later and we were looking at $8,000-$10,000! For essentially a straight picket wooden fence. The electric gate added some cost-reinforced steel frame etc-but the quotes were prohibitive. No way. So our barren, bereft front garden stayed exposed and underused, until I decided to get a few native trees. About three years ago, I went to the nursery with my simple plan. Less than two hundred dollars later, I had the beginnings of my fringe of leaves. Burgundy Agonis, or Agonis Flexuosa , Westland's Burgandii 'Touch of Class'! Leptospermum petersonii , 'Copper Glow.' Leptospermum Morrisonii 'White Opal.' Another which f...

My son started high school and I'm faced with a frightening revelation. His shirts need ironing. Where did this nightmare come from, and why am I holding a steaming iron at 11pm? I don't iron. No need to. My clothes are casual, crumpled and many are even worn with holes. I don't care that much for the pressed look. So none of my clothes require the weight of hot metal and the shot of steam. Ok, I lie, there is a half silk-half cotton shirt dress I bought in Paris, but, well, that's Paris for you. You do crazy, stylish things. For years, our household has had a clear division of labour in this area. It has not been without contest and tears. I'm the non-ironer, who, unleashed from the board, 'doesn't know how lucky she is', apparently. Lucky, that is, that I don't have to iron shirts each week. This isn't necessarily a gender thing, it's a choice thing, isn't it? I choose to not wear high maintenance clothes; my partner chooses to we...

I wrote this piece about Eureka  and it was printed in the Ballarat Courier.  There it was: an Opinion piece!  A little tweet  from Ballarat  flagged my publication,  fluttering past me that morning. A tweet  on a stick. Ballarat Courier, p.17. 5th December 2014 My stitching together of a tale across time. A flag, a symbol; staking a claim, owning a story. I have no hard copy of this paper, but I'm glad it's now also online . So, here are the flowers I bought myself to celebrate. To see another version of my piece, see also Eureka's Children newsletter from April 2015 Postscipt: On that note of flagging one's own achievements, I loved Sarah Burnside's  piece  in Overland, about the lexicon of pitching and writing. She writes of how we sell ourselves and our stories, exploring the 'So, I wrote this thing' line of self promotion. See above!

Last year, Jennifer Down won the 2013 Overland short story prize with her work, Turncoat . Entries are open again for this year. Time to get writing, or redrafting and crafting. There's only about a month left until entries close on 31st August. (Mine is hidden behind the blog walls, for now.)

A stitch, a rhythm, a picking over and pulling together.  History takes hold of a thread, and with a deft twist it can expose an underbelly, repackage a perspective or reveal a new truth. Tomorrow puts the yarn in my hand (the hand of the present) and offers the chance to remake some fabric of a story. I will be restitching the Eureka Flag, to its original proportions and using the same techniques, though not the same skills, as the original seamstresses.  The Flag of the Southern Cross. Eureka Flag, Museum of Australian Democracy at Eureka, Ballarat. Image Anna Sublet The Eureka Flag carries with it the sound of a call for democracy, a voice for those 'diggers' who were brutalised by colonial officialdom. It speaks of slaughter in a canvas camp, where the flag flew above the screams of an early morning injustice.  Unfurled, fluttering, standing to attention above the hill. What can our present stitching together tell us of ...

Hey, surprise:  Ampersand Magazine linked to my piece for the Emerging Writers Festival, with lots of lovely pics. It gives an account of the launch of their Issue #6 in May 2013 at 1000 Pound Bend .  What a cool place. What a great night. And what a lovely publication Ampersand is. Pre-launch: the bar at 1000 Pound Bend Pic Anna Sublet I am quite proud of this bit of writing and had a lot of fun putting it together with a tight deadline as part of the Emerging Writers Festival Blog Squad .  Strangely, the only reason I found this was that someone did a Google search with my name, and the first thing to come up was my work on Ampersand's site.  Nick Coyle launches it off. Pic Anna Sublet