Tell Me How It Ends

Writers are resilient creatures. They have to be, to withstand years of rejection and self-doubt. They spend years on a project with no guarantee that it will be published, acclaimed, or beloved. 

But nothing brought out the resilience of writers like the COVID19 pandemic.

With Victoria being plunged back into lockdown in August, the Melbourne Writers Festival was forced to cancel many of its live events and the decision to move the pre-planned digital program forward was made. 

The festival’s theme for this year was Tell Me How It Ends; exploring how the pandemic has impacted everyone’s life, everyone’s story, and how we can begin to imagine and shape our own futures. Many of the authors lined up to appear at the festival were given that challenge, to tell us how it ends - but unfortunately, most didn’t get the chance. And with this year’s guests including some of the most powerful voices in First Nations writing, authors like Stan Grant, Bruce Pascoe, Bridget Caldwell-Bright, and Marcia Langton, just to name a few, the cancelled banners across their events was devastating.

Photo by Hannah Olinger on Unsplash

Writers festivals are incredibly important to the literary community. They are not only a chance for you to hear from your favourite authors, but also a time to discover new voices, to hear from authors you wouldn’t normally read. Festivals are especially important for debut authors to launch their literary careers, promote themselves and their books, and meet readers for the first time. These events are beneficial for emerging writers too - those who have drafts and want to know the next step, or even those who haven’t started writing, but have that spark of an idea. Independent booksellers are on hand to provide you with a copy of your newly-found interest, and they receive community support in turn.

But despite the loss of these usual opportunities, the writers soldiered on. Over the MWF weekend, I attended three workshops that were held in partnership with Writers Victoria. These two and a half hour workshops were originally to be held in person, but had to be adapted into a Zoom room. It’s never quite the same, but I hold the same amount of awe over hearing from these incredible authors - just for different reasons. 

Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

One author had children running up to her regularly. She had a ten month old baby literally on her back and later nursed. Her internet was patchy at times because her husband was also at home and in a workshop. But she delivered an informative class with a beautiful presence that still came through over a screen.

A journalist warned us about the two toddlers in her house. When everyone introduced themselves in her workshop, several others also shared that their small children were around their legs. The third author had a son peek his head into her office to ask questions of Mum. Festivals are a way to escape everyday life and be with the people who are like you: to network, to learn, to make new friends. In an online environment, this is trickier but not impossible. Everyone was still incredibly kind and supportive of each other’s story ideas, offering respectful feedback and comments. 

But writers will keep writing in the face of adversity. They will attend learning opportunities that are forced online. They will continue to carve out the time to work on their manuscripts, to snatch precious moments of inspiration when they can. Because that’s what writers do.

To find out more about the Melbourne Writer’s Festival, head to https://mwf.com.au/

WORDS: BIANCA BREEN
PHOTOGRAPHY: NICK MORRISON, HANNAH OLINGER & ANDREW NEEL VIA UNSPLASH