Unlocking creativity…and the bathroom door…

In beautiful, picturesque, wombat filled Riversdale, there’s not a whole lot to be worried about.

That is unless you find yourself in the award-winning architecture, unable to remember whether your need to move the lock on the toilet door to the right or to the left to get out.

In this situation, several options always run through my head: do I call out for a friend? Or do I persevere in the hope that jiggling it for a bit longer will free me from this awkward prison? Either way this is a moment filled with panic, sadness and bemusement. This is usually coupled with projected images of me still living there in 5 years, 10 years and even 50 years time until I, as is most apt, expire in the style of Elvis.

“To expire in the style of Elvis” was not one of the options that came up in the first discussion of the Fresh Ink National Writers Studio that started on Monday here in Riversdale. Understandably, it’s not something that should usually be expected to arrive in a conversation. It might be though, if you were a group of young writers about to start a week of writing a 7 – 8 minute monologue about loss, death or dying.

A selection of the monologues produced will be performed in atyp‘s forthcoming production The One Sure Thing, a follow-up to their acclaimed Tell It Like It Isn’t monologue showcase of February 2011, part of The Voices Project, a multiplatform program aiming to produce a panorama of Australian voices from the next generation of writers, performers and directors.

Kerrie Noonan from The Groundswell Project came along on the first night of the Studio to introduce the topic. Groundswell is a movement aiming to create wellbeing and healthy attitudes towards death and dying using the creative arts. Significantly, it works towards removing a lot of the assumptions that are developed by our society in our approach to death. This was an important conversation to facilitate the beginning of the week-long process but also to establish that the monologues did not need to focus on sadness, on physical death or moments of extreme grief.

As the weather was a bit cold and a bit gloomy, over the week we have tucked ourselves away indoors for tutorials, workshops and masterclasses with our three tutors: Caleb Lewis, Ross Mueller and Peta Murray, who also took time out to sit down with me to talk about their experience of the National Writers Studio from the perspective of working writers and dramaturgs.

“The benefit of the week is not writing a monologue”, says Caleb, “It’s the community collaboration and the workshop classes”. Peta agrees, citing her own experience – her early work was spent in Sydney where she didn’t have this same network of writers and the support base of a specific cohort – and admitting a slight envy compared to the situation when she was emerging. She commends such a program as Fresh Ink and the way it creates ongoing dramaturgical, directorial and actor based relationships. Again, for Caleb, a programme such as this is about supporting and teaching new writers but also the joy of communicating about things generally done in solitude.

‘Whatever we write, it’s always refracted through who we are.’ Caleb Lewis

There is of course, an inescapable sense of competition and intimidation that comes along with group programmes. I myself have spent quite some time deliberately trying to pit one writer against another to see if it might provoke some kind of very well worded rap battle.

It’s not yet been successful.

Partly this might be because they’re enjoying the process of learning about their craft too much and helping each other produce work. Caleb put it best when he talked about the freedom he approaches sharing ideas of craft and process beyond any kind of rivalry, as “Whatever we write, it’s always refracted through who we are” and is therefore utterly unique.

But why have they put themselves through this experience (besides the location)?

“I’m now at a point in my career where I have something to give back”, Ross said. For him this opportunity is also a way to create a bridge between these young writers and the development of new writing in Victoria. As the Artistic Director of Courthouse Arts in Geelong, being on the Studio is a way to connect with young writers and spread the message that “This is a place where you can come to write or develop a play”. Peta agrees that it helps with everyone’s professional practice and for her is a way to learn from the participants as well. “I feel I come here and hear about writers I haven’t heard of before and new styles of theatre.”

Ross described a growing amount of residencies, mentorships, developments and funding for young writers. “If I was an emerging writer now I’d be applying for things left right and centre”, said Caleb, and in a panel discussion with all three and PlayWriting Australia‘s Chris Mead on the Wednesday night reiterated taking advantage of these opportunities and forging your own pathways. (Check out the Twitter feed on #NS11). To encourage and mentor young writers, Chris said, is very important to foster sustainable and lengthier careers. Generating relationships with people in theatre companies is a way for writers to occupy positions as active parts of this process. While this happens in some instances from meetings, Ross was clear that putting on your own work was often a great start and was, in fact, his launch pad.

One of the most important points was that you can’t function artistically if your writing is dictated by what you think someone else will like.

Instead, surprises and bravado in choices that reward your personal sensibility but most importantly your passion, anger or enthusiasm for an idea, will lead to a far more valuable mistake or reward. “If you’re scared of failure, your idea will stay really safe and inoffensive but also forgettable”, Caleb said. Ross is similarly driven forward by this idea of constructing a “community of discussion” that shapes the theatrical experience and audience exchange.

With all of these dynamic ideas swirling about the place, it’s hard not to be excited about the writing that’s going on and the community that is producing it.

And Peta provided a very useful metaphor in her masterclass (and her accompanying blog piece) of the writer as a builder.

I like the idea of the writer crafting and planning, constructing much like an architect.

In fact, I’d very much like to talk to one of them about the locks in this building.

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You can read more from Jennifer about the National Studio in the coming weeks. Follow us on Facebook for first news of National Studio 2012.