EWF 2008 SPEAKERS

For 2008, we asked our speakers, 'where do you write?'.

Adam Ford

I write on the train between Castlemaine and Melbourne, and in a little wooden bungalow that used to be the Chewton Police Station. Sometimes I draw comics at the kitchen table. I come up with ideas on the bike ride between Chewton and Castlemaine Station, in the shower,in my daughter's bedroom as I soothe her back to sleep, and when I'm doing the dishes. None of these situations are conducive to writing the idea down, but I manage. Said ideas have manifested as one novel, two poetry collections and various short stories, zines and comics. Quite a few of these things live at www.labyrinth.net.au/~adamford  

Alice White

I drafts most of my poems by hand in A4 lined notebooks in The Cocoa Lounge café in Glen Waverley. Sometimes I find ideas there, mostly I gathers them from dreams, conversations, events in my young children’s lives, other texts or the media, using notebooks scattered around my life. After much re-drafting, sometimes in a few hours, sometimes over weeks the piece emerges either as a finished poem or as a whole lot of writing that just had to happen before the real poem pops up!  A complex interplay between computer and pen at the study desk is where the final piece emerges, sometimes to rest as it is, sometimes to be re born after discussions in her energizing monthly workshop group.

Amy Spiers

I hate to write at a desk or in office. I am far more productive dressed in pyjamas at 3 in the afternoon, sitting in my bed, languishing in a pile of discarded drafts, art essays, coveted books and coffee mugs that have been ashed into. The inspiration for writing, when it comes, descends on me at inconvenient moments whilst in the shower, on the toilet or when at work talking to customers about sleeping bags. My writing, whether it’s an art review, a grant proposal or something frivolously creative, is always written in a state of panic only days before a deadline. 

Andrew Hutchinson

I do most of my writing at night in a closed off room with little sound, other than keyboard clicks and the laboured hum of a worn out PC. The walls are covered in barely decipherable, hand-written messages, Blu-Tacked and taped across the paintwork (note: landlords are not fans of such things), scribbled dot points on yellow post-it notes, the backs of business cards, and, on large A3 sized paper, in thick, black texta, a point by point plan of each story in progress. www.myspace.com/hutchinsona

Angela Costi

I light candles to evoke the muses or ghosts or any spirit that cares to help me write, the candle flames keep me company when I’m grappling with the many drafts after the first, lately I’ve been using music, like PJ Harvey's 'White Chalk' to help me evoke certain moods in my narratives.

Benny Walters

I sometimes writes in the evenings, remaining hopeful that at some point I might create work of quality. I am interested in poetry and literary fiction, and have a website at www.inscrutablepress.com.

Beth Martin

I learned to tell stories at my family’s dinner table. The youngest of three girls, I quickly learned that to get more ‘table time’ it helped if the stories you shared about your day had some drama, suspense and of course a few laughs. Most recently I have found inspiration from commuting on Melbourne trams. i believe  that they are a microcosm of Melbourne society. Everyone from well-dressed professionals to drug addicts uses public transport. i have received fashion advice from five year olds, gambling tips from little old ladies and even an invitation to dinner from a cross dresser. What a mine of ideas for a budding writer.

Bethany Jones

I create. On blank A4 paper. Scripting characters of words. Shaping words of a thought. To be alone

Chay Ya Clancy

Something pulls me into the act of writing even though I have no idea what will come next. It is like embarking on an adventure, stepping cautiously before realising that boldness and conviction in the way, you walk, are imperative if you are ever going to get somewhere. Climbing up the terrain of typography, listening attentively to the sound of mark marking, to key tapping, scrawling and breathing. I write out loud, immersed in very sounds of the words themselves, trying to describe something that is essentially the colour of see through.

Damon Lockwood

I write looking out into my backyard in a suburb called Mount Claremont, Perth. I write watching my dogs fight, the cat crap in the garden, the dogs sniffing out that crap and then doing things to that crap that inspires me to close the curtains. Sometimes I feel my curtains are not thick enough. The early morning for me is a wonderful time to write as the rising sun sets the garden on fire every dawn, and it provides another chance to edit the literary atrocities I committed the day before.

Daniel Ducrou

My first novel, Conditions of Return, was completed over a two and a half year period in Byron Bay. During this time, evictions, rent increases, and altercations with flat-mates forced me to move house, on average, every three to four months. In each new house, I created a new work space: usually in my bedroom; twice in garages; and once (stupidly) in a spider-infested shed. Some of these spaces were easier to work in than others. I also spent two months driving my characters’ road trip from Byron Bay to Melbourne. The shifting work space during this trip led me to adopt new work methods including: talking to a Dictaphone whilst driving; interviewing random strangers; and binge writing in exercise books at hostels and campgrounds. You can check out excerpts from my work at danielducrou.blog.com/

David Blackman

The physical space that I use creatively as a playwright depends on whether I am in the process of researching (including note taking) thinking about, or actually writing a draft of the work (recognising that all three processes also occur simultaneously). At the research stage, this can happen in any environment, with the TV blurring, children having a meltdown or amidst the din of a noisy café. Quiet solitude is welcome also but not essential. Usually, the more relevant the material to the work in progress, the easier it is for me to block out all external distractions. The thinking phase involves reviewing and reflecting on the notes taken and creating more.  This phase can have its acute stages which require far more insulation from the outside world.  This usually takes place in my study or some other environment where there is less likelihood of an interruption.  Any distractions are also problematic as in this phase the essential foundations of the play are laid. Time also plays a big part here. I usually secure anywhere from one to three hours for this phase whereby the research and note taking can happen in blocks of thirty minutes or sometimes less.  The draft writing phase can happen in a range of environments depending on how well the work is going.  The preference is usually a quiet area. This phase often distances me the most from the outside world. Choice of space at this stage of the creative process will also depend on my level of physical and mental alertness. If I am feeling particularly tired, then I try to eliminate any possible distraction, either by working in my study, or going to a quiet public place such as the local library.

David Blumenstein

I write when it's inconvenient; when I'm falling asleep, when I'm out and don't have a pen, when I'm trying to talk to somebody about something unrelated. Then when I sit down and TRY to write, nothing happens. I draw when I should be working, when I should be eating and even when I should be shitting (and sometimes when I AM shitting). Together, the inconvenient writing and the procrastination drawing form comics and animation much better than you’d think. www.nakedfella.com/

David Mence

I write either at my secret bunker in the foothills of Northcote or at the State Library where I am ensconced as a Creative Fellow and am working on a play about whales, whalers and the first settlement in Victoria.  I fuel my writing with endless cups of tea and, growing into my old age, has rediscovered the luddite joys of pen and paper.  I moonlight as Artistic Director of White Whale Theatre and recently directed Melburnalia by Tee O’Neill, Kate Holden, Lally Katz, Alice Pung and Ross Mueller. www.whitewhaletheatre.com

Deborah Parsons

Writing is my calling but it is also my profession. I am very self disciplined. I am never late for a deadline. I get up at 8am, have breakfast, read the paper and then I start work. I cannot work unless the house is clean and the dishes washed. I have an office in the garden (lucky me). I work for 2 or 3 hours, then I do the shopping or have a coffee, then I work for another 2 or 3 hours. Sometimes I work in the evening, sometimes not. I often work 7 days a week.

Esther Anatolitis

I write every day. There is a series of volumes I have filled with great patience and care across the past decade. Each volume is different in size and weight, inviting its own posture, its own state of alertness or
repose. One writing project is constantly developing alongside a beautiful wooden cardfile filled with words, textiles, paper fragments and other small objects. The chosen object is sketched, and the duration of that work inspires the text which fills the pages to follow. I also write about the built environment, and the arts and the politics thereof. I type, I text, I record onto minidiscs, and occasionally I paint with ink using smooth brushes and heavy paper. My words and ideas have travelled the world and remain Melbourne-based, tied firmly to my work in arts management, as well as my friends and my home.

Emily Clark

I do most of my writing in a light-filled home office with dog Dallas napping at my feet. My desk is kept neat and tidy to counteract the mess in my head. The stark white of the desk doesn’t match the lilac walls, one day it will be time to paint. A twelve month planner hangs above the desk and shouts deadlines in bright blue and green and red. A laptop taps out everything from vegan recipes to articles on the latest developments in alternative energy and robotic gizmos. Dallas continues to nap. www.aduki.net.au

Fiona Capp

I write in a room above a pub in Fitzroy. It's part of the old publican's residence. The walls are lined with bookshelves and some Matisse-like posters that my French publisher gave me. In one corner of the desk is an African-style mask that my sister made, and hanging next to the window is a large pencil drawing of the poet Judith Wright in old age, also by my sister. It's a very peaceful place to work, except when there is a function in the room beneath me or when the kitchen-hand turns up his radio too loud. When I arrive there, I immediately switch into work mode. As a writer who always has one eye (metaphorically speaking) on the surf, I like the fact that I can look out the window at the eucalpyt across the road and see which way the wind is blowing.

Glenice Whitting

A bright lamp highlights my desk. In the shadows, papers cover every inch of the floor beneath a bulging filing cabinet. Outside, a glow of rosebud pink spreads beneath dark clouds. Why am I doing this? Why write until my eyes won’t focus and my head tips towards the computer screen hoping for some support? I cannot escape the need to write a story based on fact, veiled in fiction: a melding of imagination, historical events and scattered memories. To record what I see as the neglected narratives of the Australian born children of the Hun. www.glenicewhitting.bigblog.com.au

Glyn Roberts

i write when no one is looking, i think there are very few people alive that have actually ever seen me do it. i usually running between things,  cities, catastrophes, jobs. i think Nietzsche mumbled something about the benefits of walking in relation to writing, all the best ideas come when moving. as i write play they are different beast to prose as they are image and utterance based, one need to be out among the swarm of visions, thrashing about or sitting still but soon enough you'll be stung. if you have to stay in the one place and write i highly suggest hanging half way out of window, sort of straddling the window sill like a horse (you should be a few stories up otherwise forget it). i find this works

Jane Gleeson-White

Most of my ideas, insights, rhythms and sometimes whole passages of words come to me early in the morning, in the shower or while I’m running.  I work in a small room up a spiral staircase with wooden floorboards, one wall entirely of books and three walls bare but for a self-portrait, a Frida Kahlo self-portrait, a Georgia O’Keefe landscape, two Byzantine frescoes and a map of Venice. I have two desks, one for writing on computer and one for writing with pencil and paper, and a big circular chair to read and dream on.

Jeff Sparrow 

Jeff Sparrow is the editor of Overland and the author of, most recently, Communism: A Love Story. He co-authored with sister Jill the books Radical Melbourne: A Secret History and Radical Melbourne II: The Enemy Within. He writes regularly for Crikey.com.

Julian Fleetwood

I create in my head, mostly when I am daydreaming about people, places and ideas. The bulk of this babble disappears into the ether, but some of the good stuff trickles out into words, sometimes electronic ones, sometimes printed onto stapled paper sold cheaply. The remainder stays in my head and is remixed using keyboard and pen and then spun forth into any ear that cares to listen. I also rearrange other people’s writing to make it look nicer.Please drop by www.turboslam.org.au and say hello.

Karen Andrews

Karen Andrews used to write everything longhand - until her children came along and seized her workbooks for their own scribbling. She then moved onto the computer - until her children came along and decided they too liked to type into Word Documents. Karen has since learned to take her work away from the household and now writes at her local cafes and public library. The peace, alone, is worth it. www.miscmum.com

Kate McLennan

I write on a computer that heats up under my palms – firing me along to write quicker (and in winter.) There’s a romantic view of over-grown rose-bushes outside my window that cover up the hard rubbish accumulating on the footpath across the road. One day I will have my own room to write in but for now the desk is shoved into the corner of my bedroom with a cork board of reminders and inspiring quotes that I never look at hanging over my head. I have learnt, that cleaning my room is no longer a prerequisite to starting work – if can however, be a reward. www.myspace.com/katemclennan

Kate Mulvany

Emerging from the craypots of north-Western Australia, I am apparently best known for being 'that young woman who writes about war a lot'. As much as I try to deny it, I have to admit there is a bit of a theme emerging, but given the current climate, can anyone really blame me? Occasionally I crawl out of my  laptop lair to tread the boards as an actor and get my vitamin D intake from the lighting boards of any kindly theatre company willing to take me on.

Lili Wilkinson

I have a lovely little study full of books (sorted by colour), and a window that looks out onto cats and green things and rooftops. Unfortunately I very rarely write in it, because I am lazy and prefers lying on my couch propped up with pillows, my laptop on my stomach. I spends lots of procrastinatory time making inspiring playlists to match whatever book I am working on. I eschew both writing things by hand (except for scribbled notes on the train) and writing things in Microsoft Word, choosing instead to use a magic piece of software called Scrivener. She blogs at thinkingsofalili.blogspot.com

Lisa Dempster

I write on a 12" iBook and sometimes in a black A5-sized visual arts notebook. I usually write sitting on a sharehouse couch, slouched low with feet up on the coffee table, Chihuahua tucked in beside me. The couch is the best I have ever owned, a white, quite grand affair with plump cushions and little skirts around the bottom. Secondhand, of course. I have an office but I do my best work away from it. Sometimes I blog from bed. http://www.lisadempster.com.au

Lucy Stewart

I write plays. I like to experiment with language, narrative and structure, hoping that this keeps both the creative process and the writing fresh and alive. I write almost every day, collecting ideas and scenes on scraps of paper and letting them fester in a shoebox until required later. For early drafts of commissioned plays I have tried other ideas. These include working from the improvised offerings of a cast in rehearsal; creating a wall-sized collage/brainstorm with secondary students and writing on the back of train tickets.  http://www.lucystewart.com

Marie Alafaci

I write at an antique mahogany desk that sits by French windows overlooking the garden.  A fountain pen and . . .  no wait – that’s in a book I read. My (cheap) pine desk sits beyond Lego creations, hole-punch confetti, fancy-edged scissors and bottles of paste.  It’s piled high with books, an overflowing filing tray and pens.  Various children’s artworks and mothers’ day cards are stuck to the walls, as well as family photos and relaxing postcard scenes.  I kneel at this desk on an ergonomic chair to edit and think.  The actual writing gets done on the swish black and silver computer across the room.

Matthew Clayfied

Since my laptop died on him eighteen months ago, my writing process has become increasingly schizophrenic and fragmentary. I writes wherever I can, whenever I can, using whatever primitive marking implements I can find. I can often be seen staking out computers in public and university libraries, in internet cafés, and even in my housemates' bedrooms. My articles, essays and reviews are drafted in notebooks and moleskin journals, on yellow legal pads, tram tickets and supermarket receipts, and all over the palms of my hands. However confusing it may be in practice, this fragmentation of method might in theory be seen as the corollary to my fragmentation of focus. Wide-ranging in scope, my interests border on the encyclopaedic, even if my knowledge borders on the insubstantial, and my literary output on the inconsequential. http://www.esotericrabbit.com/blog

Matt Davies

I write in my head while lying in bed at night, hoping sleep will eventually come. It does, but slowly. I compose work on-screen in my home-office where I write how-to guides, ghostwrite for other ‘authors’, edit for publishers and work on my own crime fiction. I do this peacefully during the hours of 9am to 3pm, in between requests for food, drink and parental company after 3.30pm, and again peacefully after 8.30pm. Working from home makes it feel less like a job and more like a life… plus the concept of peak hour no longer exists.

Maxine Clarke

I am a West-Indian Australian poet and freelance journalist who arranges & ear-edits my slam poetry by memory and tongue-trip to the staccato slug-chug of packed, puffing peak hour trains, the steady tick tock of my nine-to five work clock, & the drooled drip drop and hey diddle diddle’s of my two year old’s I’m a little teapot chants and imaginary fiddles. I mind-maps my journalism work on the move: at the kitchen sink, in the shower, while tying the laces on my shoes, and with a near-final edit over-analysed and aching to be eeked out of my brain to freedom, I finally chain myself to a block of Lindt and my computer, hitting SEND before proof-reading. My first written poetry collection Original Skin is the result of a good memory and lots of pacing. http://www.picaropress.com

Melissa Delaney

Melissa Delaney works within electronic art forms and text. Melissa likes words and the way they can shape the ideal world. In addition to being a committee member of the Wagga Space Program (2003 - 2007) and involved in the unsound festival in 2004 as an artist-in-residence in the mutable landscapes program and performed as part of locomotivus in 2006, Melissa works in arts development in work she sees as social sculpture.  Recently Melissa has been working with Express Media as the Artistic Director and was previously the Director with Booranga Writers’ Centre in Wagga Wagga and is now working with RMIT Union Arts as the Arts Co-ordinator.

Natasha Jacobs

I finally found the key to breaking through my lengthy period of writer's block was to do away with my computer and go old-school, literally putting pen to paper. I may be spotted on busy, peak-hour trains balancing a notebook and handbag on my lap, furiously writing in my colourful notebook. My handwritten musings are generally in the form of a play of some description, since I'm an actor always in search of more work and believe you must make your own, however, I has been known, on occasion, to pen something closer to poetry.

Nathan Curnow

Between staying at Australia’s spookiest locations I sit in an L shaped room of an L shaped house, surrounded by familiar objects—coffee mug, books, postcards and his lucky Mongolian fishing knife.  I search for a way into a poem by reading hard, thinking hard, punching the keys hard or by just going for a relaxed walk with his dog.  In 2007 I was funded by the Australia Council to write poetry based upon his experiences at ten ‘haunted’ sites around the country, from a gaol cell to a lunatic asylum, from Port Arthur to Norfolk Island. www.nathancurnow.bigblog.com.au

Rohini Sharma

I am a lapsed writer with a four-drawer filling cabinet full of notebooks, print outs of half formed embryos, and packets of dried seeds.  Sometimes I go to the filing cabinet, takes these things out and puts them back in, also adding other people’s words recorded on a shiny contraption or found and underlined in books. I likes to think of this as my research phase.

Ron Pretty

Ron Pretty has been publishing his poetry for more than 40 years. He has published five books of poetry, the most recent being Of the Stone: New and Selected Poems in 2000 and the chapbook On the Hay Plain 2007. His book on the writing of poetry, Creating Poetry, was reissued in 2002 in a revised edition. He was editor of the literary/arts magazine SCARP from 1984 to 1999. . From 1983 to 1998 he was Head of Writing in the Faculty of Creative Arts at the University of Wollongong. Until he retired in 2007, he was the director of Five Islands Press, which published 230 books by Australian poets. He was based at the University of Melbourne, 2003 – 2007 where he taught creative writing, He has worked with Bradley Trevor Greive and BTG Studios in the administration of the Taronga Foundation Poetry Prize since its inception. Ron Pretty won the NSW Premier’s Special Prize for services to literature in 2001 and received an AM for services to Australian literature in 2002.

Ross Mueller

I write words to be spoken and actions to be seen. I use an IBook G4 with an external keyboard so i can pound it hard. I take notes in a moleskin journal -  it's a beautiful book and it forces me take care about what I am noting down in the first place. I write outlines before I write dialogue and I try and concentrate on the action. "What do they want?" is always the central question. Form and content vary but needs and desires are constant. I am disciplined. I believe in dead lines. I despise the cliche of the writer being the socially awkward one stuck in a dingy self imposed exile... I love other humans. That is why I write for theatre -  it demands interaction, collaboration and communication. It is sexy, exciting and it's happening right now.... Beat that for entertainment.

Ryan Paine

I writes in my subconscious – and then I wake up wishing I could remember the abstract editing solution he’d been dreaming of for someone else’s words. In the real word I works at a rickety card table I got for my 21st, set up outside my bedroom window among creeping weed-vines I wish my neighbour would get of his arse and cut down from the other side of the fence. In the autumn I’ll go back inside, because this is my summer office.

Samuel Wagon-Watson

I started to hate my writing and out of despair in December 2007 became a security guard, vowing never to scribble ever, ever again.  Working the graveyard shift on sites around inner-city Brisbane, my nightly 'incident reports' have been praised as being both 'poetic' and 'beautifully executed' by his supervisor.  An extensive rap-sheet of me can be obtained courtesy of http://www.bookedout.com.au/queensland/Samuel_Wagan_Watson. 

Shane McCarthy

I do most of my writing in an open, sunlit office in my suburban home.  There I am surrounded by research materials, world maps, books, comics, fish and an armchair that induces instant comas.  When I fins this atmosphere too stuffy (or feel the constant draw to my X-Box growing too strong) I heads out to a local cafe that can supply me with a good view, good food or, better yet, a good hiding place (I am aware of those who enjoy 'being seen writing' but prefers 'not being seen at all').  I find the day to day nature of writing to be exhilarating and thoroughly enjoy using it as an official excuse for playing with his action figures. http://www.shanemccarthy.com

Simon Groth

In order to get done the actual business of writing stories, I scurries around like a thief in the small hours, stealing chunks of time and whatever space is available. Gone is the big black desk and the blueberry iMac in favour of a coffee table and notebook; the manuscript on one arm of the couch, espresso on the other, careful not to wake the others. But that's just getting it down on paper. The stories themselves, as always, are everywhere: in bed, at work, in the shower, on the bus. The writer's mind, once activated, rarely switches off. www.simongroth.com

Simonne Howell

I work in the back room of an old grand manse in St Kilda. Four white walls and no Internet access. My window that looks out to a block of flats where people come and go (like my words). Outside there is a palm tree that dates back to 1922, and a wishing well full of chip-bark. My room holds a few books, rosehip tea, woolly socks, a dictionary and a post it note that says: dune buggy, proof of God, survival, birds. www.myspace.com/simmoneh

Sophie Cunningham

Sophie Cunningham is an editor, publisher, and novelist. Don't ask her about her writing routine - she has none. She just tries to find the time in between earning a living.  You will find her blog at the cunningly named www.sophiecunningham.com  but these days it's more photos than words.

Susan Hawthorne

I've been writing in a series of notebooks over many years. I write wherever I am - and if for some reason I have neither a notebook nor a laptop, I use scraps of paper: restaurant napkins, shopping lists, envelopes, whatever is to hand. I also write poetry in my head, especially when driving, walking or lying awake in the middle of the night. But most of the time I write directly on my computer surrounded by books, images and objects that I love.

Tim Sinclair

I'm in the café, trying to write. In the library, next to the incontinent pensioner, trying to write. On the crowded bus, in the clattering food hall, between new resolutions and unfortunate habits. Trying to write. Trying to ignore life's distractions while simultaneously trying to make sense of them. Trying to decipher the notes I've scribbled on manifold scraps of paper. Trying to write. I'm trying to write. www.timsinclair.org

Toni Jordan

I don’t  care about windows, light or views. Home or away. Just-stumbled-out-of-bed (still in jammies) or up-early-and-shower (work clothes). What matters is peace, quiet, just me and my dog. I don’t answer the phone. Unplug the internets.  The work is done while sitting in front of my laptop, every day. The good ideas coming when walking, hanging clothes on the line, taking a shower. I have no idea what the people in my story are going to do next—part of the fun is finding out. It’s like exploring a foreign city. You never really know what’s around the next corner.

Tristan Clark

I wrote my first book via the power of laptop in the crippling cold of my unheated bedroom/garden shed. At the best of times my breath could be seen cutting through the cool air as I tapped away incessantly. The somewhat grim surrounds help to produce a cynical view of today’s world. These days I write wherever I happen to be, but only when the mood strikes me. Never one to adhere to deadlines, I work when I find time and motivation…and never when my publisher asks me to.

Vanessa Berry

Many strangers have wondered what I am writing in my notebook when they sit near me on the train. Some try to peek over my shoulder and I lets them do it. I think its best with the suburbs of Sydney sliding past outside the windows. Sewn into the lining of my coat is a Walter Benjamin quote: “A pedantic adherence to certain papers, pens, inks is beneficial.” Therefore I only write with black biros, in GDR era notebooks that I ship home from East Germany. Old objects for new ideas. See www.froschperspektive.wordpress.com.

Victoria Stead

More often than not, I aren’t writing anything, anywhere. My sophisticated creative process involves a lot of cleaning-of-bathrooms, visiting-of-friends, and baking-of-cupcakes in search of inspiration. But when time runs out, I write many different things in many different places. Three days a week, I works for a university research institute. Sometimes this means that she gets to writes on location in Papua New Guinea and Timor Leste, but usually it means that she writes in an office with thin partition walls, fluorescent lights and no windows. For the rest of the week, when trying to cultivate the image of an emerging artist, I write in a 4x5m studio in a complex with lots of other artists, and style my hair to make it look especially asymmetrical.

Zoe Barron

I am a poet, journalist, editor and occasional short story writer and don’t feel entirely comfortable unless there’s a pen and paper somewhere on my person. Bike rides are often interrupted so I can write things down, I collects events in cheap notebooks to prove they really happened, and spend long periods shifting punctuation around in my emails. I wrote stuff on an oilrig once. Quite a bit of her work is generated in moving vehicles, which tend to incite both the urge to fall asleep and the urge to write. This year, I have been spending most of my time in small offices, adjusting other peoples’ writing and then putting it into magazines. Which is great, but mainly because it leads to more writing.