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On Work, Kids, and Making Time
July 9, 2024It’s a cliché – juggling work and small kids is hard. No one denies it, and if they try, they might cop a stray fork to the eyeball.
You stay up half the night rocking, soothing, and occasionally using a snot-sucker to remove goop from tiny nostrils. Morning dawns and the older ones demand fruit – specific fruit, seasons be damned – and the smaller ones cling to you like they’re trying to squeeze your soul out through your gullet, all at a volume usually reserved for Grandpa’s TV audio settings.
Once fed and dressed (the hardest part – a judo black belt would help) you wrangle them into the car and drop them, often wailing for your extended presence, at daycare or kinder. And after the emotional turmoil that was your morning, you’re expected to toddle off to work and file away your children until pickup, so you can concentrate on whatever task you’ve been assigned that day, regardless of your sleep bank or energy levels.
And most people do it full time, with a couple of weeks of annual holidays to temper the strain.
But kids aren’t all snot and squeals. My eldest understands the word googol, just so they can describe how much they love me. My youngest speaks at a pitch so perfect, it gives me unprecedented ASMR. Their skin is the silkiest. Their curls, the dearest. They tell bad jokes that lead nowhere and stroke my face with infinite tenderness. They make me slow down and appreciate the small moments.
The other night during a kid-led kitchen boogie, I turned to my partner and said (in one of my cornier moments), ‘This is the time of our lives.’
‘I know,’ my partner replied.
So, when financial pressure meant it was high time to get back to work after several years of exclusive sticky hands and cries of, ‘Carry me!’, I knew I wanted to find work that wouldn’t take me completely away from the joys and struggles of parenthood. I wanted to find work that would allow me to treasure these few short years of smallness, sweetness and chaos, before the sarcasm and eye rolls officially set in.
I deeply admire the parents who can do it all – work full time and parent with indefatigable energy. But I also admire the parents who find ways to circumvent the constraints of colonial/patriarchal capitalism and make time for slowness. Besides, my constitution demands it – years of low iron and breastfeeding only permit so much. So, in these early years my partner and I have chosen op shop clothes and home-brand over holidays and fancy (or even clean) cars. We don’t buy organic vegetables, go to gigs, or update our technology. Our phone screens have ancient, zig-zagging cracks. We’ve chosen time over luxury at every opportunity.
With that in mind, I set out to find work that suited my pace and scoured the internet for freelance editing opportunities that would allow flexibility and balance.
But in these post-Covid times it’s all about who you know. Maybe it always was. I’m not so hot at the literary schmoozing and event attendance – a must for aspiring freelance editors. I don’t relish long solo missions to launches, fairs or festivals.
I had to look closer to home.
We had recently done the tree-change thing and moved out to Eltham – found a mud-brick home that’s impossible to heat, on a block of oxalis-infested bushland. We have a resident wombat who digs up the path, a family of wallabies who bound across the back of the block, and a feeling that this is where we’re meant to be.
I loved the idea of working near home, so I googled small local publishers who might need freelance editors, hoping that even if they didn’t have work for me, they might take pity on a local and find a moment to offer advice.
The first person I contacted was a bust – she rather aggressively told me that of course she had no editing work and she could meet up to chat about the industry for fifty bucks, if I wanted. I did not, but kudos to her for valuing her time.
The second business I found was an entirely different vibe. The website was a quick giveaway – this is a place that understands community and family. I’ll forever wish I’d met Blaise – her legacy here is pervasive: warm, caring and somehow maternal. And Busybird had everything I’d been looking for. They actually give their interns training and, after the internship is complete, freelance editing work. I had a few gaps in my resume, so I swallowed my pride and misgivings about another internship as a thirty-something mum of two with ample editing experience under her belt, and applied.
It was the best decision I could have made.
In a recent Busybird newsletter, I listed some of the things that make it special, but at its heart is community – people of all ages coming together to share their stories. Kev and Les are the backbone, but people are drawn to share the space, happy to spend an hour chatting over the inexhaustible supply of sweet treats that grace the central collaborative table, keen to have a cuppa and chat books, conspiracy theories, or the latest Netflix binge. And I can’t write about Busybird without mentioning the ultimate sweetheart goofball who graces the space – dear doggo Oscar.
Now, at the end of this experience, I know more. Thanks to Les I’m a better writer and editor, I can make a TikTok reel (albeit badly – I’m a millennial, after all), I understand the industry on a deeper level, and I’ve embraced the Oxford comma. Above all, I have new friends I hope to keep for life.
I’ve found that I love editing self-published work. Everyone deserves to have their story published, gatekeepers be damned. And everyone has a story to tell. Our lives are rich with the strange and wonderful.
I now have freelance work that gives me time. Time for the small, slow moments of parenthood. Time for the larger life events that can so easily pass us by amidst the unending pressures of capitalism. Time to garden, read, and write. Time to wonder. Time to grow.
And when my kids smear snot on my leggings for the umpteenth time in one hour, I’ll chose to thank Busybird (almost definitely) for giving me a chance.
Ellen Spooner
Editing Intern
My Work Experience
July 4, 2024Books have been a large part of my life ever since I was a child. My mother used to read stories to me before I was old enough to comprehend the words, or even say them. My grandma would also read to me, and I would sit starry eyed as I watched her mouth articulate each word, painting a picture with mere sounds. She always found it interesting how I would watch her so intensely, intrigued by the story.
As I grew, I began reading my own books, exploring Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and the halls of Hogwarts. Slowly, the spines became wider, the pages more densely packed with words. My mother still read books to me, classics like The Faraway Tree or The Wizard of Oz.
Reading is a wonderful experience. It transports you, educates you, entertains you, and inspires you. I love reading many genres, authors, and forms, as each is individual in its own way. Yet, there are so many books in this world, and not enough time to read them. I feel that I will never read everything I want to.
When questions about my future arose, asking where I would like to be in 5, 10, or even 15 years, I turned to this constant of reading. ‘Editor’ became a word frequently tossed around. I could help others create their dreams while also doing something I loved. And, when asked about choices for work experience placements, I knew editing was something I wanted to pursue. This led me to Busybird, and I am so happy that it did.
You know, as soon as you open the door, that this is a wonderful place. Oscar the blond labrador comes bounding up to you, slobber drooling from his mouth, and you cannot help but pat him. As you walk in, the walls are lined with books, and you can tell that these people take pride in what they do. And the first sound that enters your ears are of course the infamous 80s songs you may have read about in earlier blog posts.
This experience has been above my expectations. I cannot thank Les, Kev, all the interns, and even Oscar, for all they have taught me. The wisdom they have imparted is invaluable and I know the skills I have learnt will be influential in all my endeavours.
Not only has my knowledge of editing and proofing expanded, but that of working in an office environment and the many things needed to keep it operational and organised.
As I sit here writing this, I am beside a wall adorned with appreciation for all they have done. Many more books are published, and authors lives made complete because of the work that they do. I am so grateful for this experience, and the chance to have met such wonderful people.
Thank you, Les, and Kev, you are extraordinary and unique in a way few people are.
Ella
Work Experience Student
The Ever-Present 80s Music
May 23, 2024“You need to write a blog. It can be about anything. Here are some examples.”
Those were the words I was told before I got stuck into reading said examples. And yet, I still don’t know what to write. This genuinely might be the first time I’m at a loss for words. And so, I’m sitting here listening to the sounds of the office.
I can hear the intern’s keyboard clacking, an editor rummaging around her pencil case, Kev on the phone to a client, Oscar the dog playing with his squeaky toy, and Les turning on the coffee machine.
Of course, the ever-present 80s music is also playing.
The 80s music.
From the moment you walk into the office at Busybird you notice the music. It’s only ever 80s music, and all interns and work-experience students are forewarned that we need to study before we show up. Lest we be quizzed and get the singer/band/songwriter wrong.
Funny story about that: I didn’t remember which era I needed to study before my placement and thought it was 70s music. Over the course of the week, I have only gotten one song right, much to the horror of Les and Kev.
Whoops!
Currently “Super Trooper” by ABBA is playing, and no, I didn’t look that up! Les thinks it’s funny to quiz everyone on lesser-known songs, so while I grew up on these tracks, he always catches me off-guard. I suspect he does that with everyone though. The trick to avoid answering wrong is not to think, I hope no one quizzes me on this song, because trust me, they are telepathic and will ask you the minute you think it.
All jokes aside, the office is a very welcoming environment.
Oscar, AKA the “Morale Manager”, is always ready to greet you at the door, and wipes his mouth on your pants after he has a drink, which is always a laugh.
Every day, a different intern greets me with a smile as they introduce themselves. Kev and Les are always ready to unleash their sarcasm and constantly offer everyone tea, coffee and some kind of chocolate sweet. The editors and bookkeeper I’ve met are all very friendly too.
It’s laughable that I was worried I wasn’t going to fit in because I am so young and inexperienced, but it was almost as if I slotted in. No one has made me feel as if I don’t belong and I have even felt comfortable enough to join in on jokes.
I’m learning so much from this placement, from how to proof things, to formatting and even basic grammar. All these things I can use in school and for the rest of my life in whatever career I end up in, whether it be publishing, editing, writing, or something else entirely.
I don’t think this week could have been any better, and I also think I won’t ever listen to as much 80s music as I have this week either!
-Maddy Vecch
Year 10 Work Experience, 2024
Open Mic Night #100
May 14, 2024
When we first moved into our Montmorency Studio way back in 2013, something Blaise wanted to do was host a monthly Open Mic Night.
That had been a requirement at our Professional Writing & Editing course – students had to read at least twice a year. Most students (or at least most students I knew) dreaded it. Read in front of an audience? Terrifying. I’d almost hyperventilate, and had to continually psyche myself up beforehand.
But, inevitably, I grew to enjoy it, and in my second year of study would volunteer to read. Later, after I’d graduated, I actually spoke about mental health issues for SANE Victoria, then Beyond Blue. I never would’ve done that – never would’ve considered it – if those school readings hadn’t introduced me to public speaking.
As far as Busybird was concerned, I was worried that without that study imperative, people wouldn’t attend. But Blaise was typically optimistic. And persistent.
The first few Open Mics were understandably sparse, but gradually they grew. They were rarely big, barnstorming events, but they gained respectable numbers, and many of those people became regulars over the years.
What everybody immediately embraced was the passion behind the night. A lot of that came from Blaise and Kev. They brought warmth, familiarity, and encouragement to the Open Mic Nights. People felt that the moment they walked in. It wasn’t a place to be nervous. It wasn’t a place of judgement. It was a nest that was nurturing. Readers could find their voice in a way they might not have been able to otherwise.
On the day of an Open Mic Night, we’d often try to predict how many people would attend. Sometimes, we’d have a cold, wet, miserable day, and think that would impact numbers. Nope. People wanted somewhere cosy to settle in.
When we reached Open Mic Night #21, Blaise drew a key on an A4 sheet of paper, and people signed it like they’d sign a twenty-first-birthday key. It seemed amazing to have gotten that far. (That key’s now stuck on the wall behind Kev’s collection of cameras. Check it out.)
That was way back on 15 April 2015 – look how far we’ve come!
The Open Mic Nights were something that could’ve easily imploded during the Covid years. But Blaise worked industriously to keep them going, running them as online functions until we could forage back out into the real world. Then, when she unexpectedly passed away, it would’ve been easy to let them fall away.
Kev used the first couple of dates for Blaise-centric events – first a memorial, where family and friends could talk about her, and then, to launch her novel The Colours of Ash. Both were well attended, but they were events.
The first few Open Mics after that were sparse. Understandably, the bulk of regulars hadn’t returned. It was a strange space to now occupy – a Blaise-place without Blaise.
For Kev, myself, an intern Daniel (who was so helpful during that difficult time), Kate the bookkeeper, and Oscar, it was noticeable every day.
At functions, it was far worse. Typically, Blaise would be front and centre behind the microphone. All the dynamics had changed. Maybe it was only natural to call time on Open Mic Night.
We kept pushing, thinking – as was the motivator behind so many decisions back then – it’s what Blaise would want. Numbers started to grow. Lots of new people started coming. Open Mic Night had found a new lease.
Now here we are at Open Mic Night #100.
Blaise grew up on a hippy commune nicknamed “Tralfamadore”, a place (I imagine) that she developed a sense of close-knit community. Walls didn’t separate neighbours. Everybody knew everybody. Everybody relied on everybody. It was (for a time) their little utopia.
It wasn’t until Blaise passed away that I realized that’s what she was doing with Busybird, and with the Open Mic Nights – creating a community of like-minded people, and giving them a place where they could feel safe, where they could find their voice and be appreciated, and where they could form lasting friendships.
One of the important outcomes of writing, Blaise would say, was leaving a legacy behind – our stories would remain here long after we were gone.
Through Open Mic Night, she built her own legacy, and allowed all of us to tell our stories and connect with others.
And long may it live on.
Hope to see you all tomorrow night, Wednesday, 15th May, at 7.00pm at our Studio for Open Mic Night #100!
Living for What I Love
December 19, 2023Humans like to find comfort in routine. We tend to fall into these traps of not knowing what else is out there, because all we’ve known is the environment around us. We grow accustomed to safe places that hold less risk, opposed to what might happen if we attempted something new. That something new could hold the key to our growth and our ability to be a better person.
A better version of ourselves.
That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.
Be me.
Be brave.
Be courageous.
I’m a girl too, so I’ve had my fair share of breakdowns, uncertainties and challenges. But, importantly, I’ve continued to move forward. I’ve taken breaks here and there, cried a lot, felt directionless, and constantly misunderstood, but I’ve never stopped. I’ve found solutions to problems and leaned upon people who made choices easier.
Those are my people. Those people get me!
And this … this is my story.
As a small child, my mother would catch me flipping the pages of children’s books. There is one book where she states the pages are worn because of the number of times I’d turn them. Even at that age, my passion for books and storytelling existed somewhere in my young developing mind.
Fun fact: the first proper novel I ever read, was The Wind in the Willows, written by Kenneth Grahame.
So, let me fast-forward and take you to high school. It was there that somewhere along that journey I clearly got lost. It didn’t seem like there was anything I was good at other than writing. And that was quickly dismissed.
I had no idea that pursuing a career as an author was possible. Nobody talked about that, nor expressed that all creativity was anything other than just a hobby.
Around me, there seemed to be those who soared through assignments, and here I was struggling because I took things literally, and thought I needed everything perfect.
Most of the time, I pretended to fit. I had very little confidence in who I was in because nothing seemed to showcase my strengths. I couldn’t invest in anything because my heart was never truly in it.
My heart was in my writing. It loved that. It was in the books I had yet to read, and the shelves waiting to be filled with further purchases. I wanted to build a library and imagine that I was surrounded by staircases of storytellers wishing to have their voices heard.
I wished to join the realm of authors. I wanted desperately to have that life – somehow! It was waiting for me, I knew it. I don’t know how, but deep inside of me I kept the dream alive, that one day I’d have the chance to make it happen.
Apparently, that made me crazy.
But guess what? I’m doing it now.
Eventually at school it came time to start choosing career paths. As I mentioned, I didn’t think that being an author was possible, so having chosen media studies in my later years, I presumed that there would be some avenue of career that way.
Despite being told that a media teacher was the best I’d ever get, I decided to go down that path regardless. It was at least creative. I could make something that made a difference. For that was what I wanted – to make a difference with that special gift I possessed. Little did I know, I had only scratched the surface of that purpose.
Looking back, I was at least heading in the right direction, even if I didn’t know it.
In school, it’s depicted if you finish with good grades, you end up at university. Finish that and you’d have a career. That’s how it was supposed to go. And maybe that was the case for some.
It just wasn’t for me.
The thing was, I never really was the study type. To this day, I’d say the same. Trying to fit so much knowledge in your brain for a final exam … the thought of it gives me anxiety. I learn, and can show my abilities, by doing it in a practical manner. That’s why JMC Academy appealed to me.
So, having said that, moving onto university.
Here, I’d chosen to study a Bachelor of Creative Arts (Film & Television). This art, as I’ve come to learn with all creative pursuits, requires a deep passionate love to make it work. The key word here, is love.
I didn’t love Film and Television enough to make it work, and to justify spending hours upon hours of free time, developing something that I couldn’t see benefiting me in the future.
The important thing to note is I met people, friends who saw what I was capable of, and knew that my pathway was outside the screen and on the page.
I loved story. Thereby, it was through the subjects of screenwriting, directing and editing, where I started to learn and pick up the basic frameworks of storytelling. I was getting somewhere. I was starting to believe. And somewhere along that journey I started playing around with a story coming together in my head, and which I imagined being this big series that would represent everything I ever loved.
It started just like this. Male protagonist. Rain forest. Fantasy. Dragons.
Screenwriting became my favourite class at university, and even though I enjoyed having freedom to create whatever came to mind, it still felt too restricting a format for the style I wished to write in.
I’m an elaborate describer, and I’m often told that I talk too much. In most cases, I always have to cut back on essays. You can see why I struggled sometimes with screenwriting, as it is straight to the point, providing succinct details so that the director can then interpret them however they see fit. What I needed to do was to find a happy medium.
Soon enough, it was time to face the real world. I graduated having little idea where I was headed, or what I wanted.
All I knew, in my lack of confidence, was that I now needed a job. So, I looked towards the only guidance I had at the time, and ended up landing a job far from anything that would represent my talents at all. It also became one of the biggest lessons of my life, forcing me to build walls in the case someone tried to use my kindness against me, which they did.
Many times, people used my naivety and good-will against me, and I was pushed and forced into a belief system where the only way to survive was to retreat within the walls of safety I had created in my mind.
It’s taken a long time to feel safe enough to venture out from within those walls. But I have a great set of people around me now. I have them to thank for the peace I now feel.
Nevertheless, I learnt the hard way. It really is devastating to know that I’m not the only one to go through the things I did and can only hope that someday, I can help those voices wrongly being silenced. Just like mine was.
Here’s a little secret – it’s why I write. I write because I have a gift, and I know that. So, using that gift, I wish to make a difference.
I have the drive now, and here’s how that happened.
I’ve always wanted to write a fantasy novel. The idea of creating a world from scratch seemed like so much fun. I mean, why not? Here, I was able to escape into its realm, forget about this world for a moment and dive straight into the exciting journeys of characters whose stories often embarked upon magical quests. So, sometime later, after university, I was talking to a bus driver who knew of a publisher in Montmorency. At the same time, I’d invested in two short courses, involving storytelling and self-publishing.
Suddenly, by taking the chance to drive forty-five minutes from my town to Busybird Publishing, it was from there that doors began to open. I had found the gateway to my purpose, and all I had to do was to start walking, no matter how long it took. I had found my beginning.
From that moment, a time I describe as euphoric, nothing about the idea of becoming an author scared me. It was like a light had been switched on, shining so brightly, I’d have been a fool to have missed its message.
My story then started to take form. I put hours of work into various character profiles, and developing the initial fundamentals that would eventually lay the foundation for the world I was and am now still creating. Everything about it made sense. And so, the more I developed my skills, the further I connected with like-minded individuals; hence my knowledge, confidence and perseverance grew.
I love my story, and even to this day I am very protective of its contents. I share details only with those who I know can understand the severity of its significance to me as an individual, writer and storyteller. Not everybody understood, and I found that I would feel a sense of uncertainty if ever I spoke to the wrong people about my ambitious intentions in becoming an author. It would make me doubt myself. And that was the last thing I needed.
It’s been five years, and after much work, dedication and planning, I have completed my novel’s initial draft – having learnt so much along the way, despite my itch to have it complete and on shelves.
Patience. Discipline. Resilience.
These are the things I need to keep going.
This novel represents every part of me in ways that only such a depth in writing can describe. I hold it in high value because during my darkest and scariest moments in my mind, it’s been there for me; it’s been my guide to something amazing, something great, and something purposeful. It led me towards a light, which I saw only when I was side-by-side with my characters, issuing their adversities and challenges, and finding their balance and connection within the light and dark elements in us all.
Though I know that my challenges are far from the worst kind, the battle I have with my mind is continuous, and it’s taken a long time to find peace with the person I am, and with who I wish to become. All I know, is that the best version of me is when I’m seeing words on a page and arranging them accordingly into a structurally sound narrative.
I love doing that!
Up until now, I have had numerous people, strangers even, speak to me about their lives, their hardships and often, they have told me how they overcome such adversity with an open and grateful heart.
Often, I reflect upon how beautiful these stories are, inspired to continue upon the path I’m on, and to not give up on myself. For I wouldn’t then have a wonderful story to tell, just like them.
Having said that, hidden within the pages of my novel is a heart full of passion, of love and of humility. It may be a fantasy, but it’s relevant and unique as it explores the framework of the chosen one a little differently than most novels in that genre. At least, I believe so. Heavily influenced by Avatar the Last Airbender, a storyline so beautifully crafted, it has become my default series whenever I’m feeling a little low.
My purpose and wish in life, is to inspire, spread kindness, and to tell stories that represent resilience, fight and truth. I’d be doing a real disservice to myself if I stopped now, and I didn’t go forward with what I see as a justifiable reason to pursue something that makes me happy.
Nevertheless, it’s because of Busybird Publishing, and many others who have supported me in my passion, that I now have the confidence to get this novel done.
I cannot wait to share this journey with all of you, when eventually I get to the stages of publishing.
For now, it’s back to the writing board and editing!
Alison Achter
Editing Intern