Illustration by Hun Lee
Words by Panda Wong
Alex and I met at a cafe by the Yarra River as I believe that conversations flow best when near bodies of water. Prior to this, we’d already connected via the internet through ‘Express Media’s Toolkits: Poetry program’ in 2019. I distinctly remember the poem she wrote about throwing up at a theme park and was instantly obsessed. Her writing is honest, funny and weird—spanning topics from eating dirt to dreams about condoms as ravioli. By the constant ebb and flow of the Yarra, we discussed her writing practice, what it means to be an emerging writer (hint: for Alex it feels like “hatching from a literary egg”) and what to expect at her event, ‘Tell Me Like You Mean It’.
Can you tell me about your writing practice? Are there any particular things that you are drawn to?
There are certain phrases or ideas that will come to me at inconvenient times when I’m in the middle of doing something. I keep this document of things that I gather—it’s almost like this lost and found box. It’s like something in your house where you keep all of these bits and bobs that don’t belong anywhere else, but I want to find somewhere they belong.
I like to think of my writing as one of those dogs that is ugly, runty and all smushed-up. Those dogs are so ugly that they’re cute. I think that my writing is like that. I have this one poem, called ‘Dirt Talk’, about how I love eating dirt and I’m always wanting to see if anyone can relate to this. With some neuro-divergent people, they can like to eat unconventional things. I’m always asking this one friend about whether I can submit this and he’s always like no, no one wants to read your dirt poem. I think that someone will want to read this dirt poem though. I write so that someone can relate to me. We don’t have to pretend people don’t have their weird things.
It’s about exploring this sense of vulnerability; I like writing about things that we don’t really like to admit to ourselves but maybe can address through art.
How do you feel about the term emerging?
I feel like it’s a tenuous term. When I hear emerging, it makes me feel like I’m hatching from a literary egg—like are they going to overrun this city? Are these emerging writers crawling out of the ground from the seventh circle of hell?
Emerging is like the time as a writer when it feels extremely uncomfortable. I feel like I’m being so premature and so misleading telling people I’m a writer. It’s scary but I also feel like this is a collective experience.
We need to make it feel like emerging writers can achieve things today and that writing is not an exclusive club. The whole idea of emerging is that you are still working on it and that’s okay.
There seems to be this relationship between emerging and inclusivity in the EWF.
What are your thoughts on inclusivity in this festival?
I feel a lot more hopeful because there is more out there that’s specific and trying to be
supportive of a variety of voices. We are going to hear from neglected demographics. The
festival has a number of events that they work to make accessible—it’s important to show that we can put that into action rather than just provide token support. There can’t just be one event that’s about disability and that’s the event for disabled people. We aren’t just the things that marginalise us and we don’t only want to go to things that show that element of us. Also, over half the events are free which is really important. Writing shouldn’t only be for the university educated or the wealthy. I hope I can engage with the festival in a way that is comfortable for me as it’s cognisant of people with those barriers. I think that I’ll be supported there. Feeling that support is important.
I’m looking forward to seeing your work on Monday—could you please share a little
bit about what you will be performing at ‘Tell Me Like You Mean It’?
Yes! I will be sharing some angst poems predominantly related to queerness and mental
health.
Are there any current projects that you are working on?
I’m working on my debut poetry manuscript and my draft title for it is ‘Neuro-Difficult’. It’s sectioned into different clinical traits based on my lived experience with autism. Autism isn’t really associated with being creative—it’s stereotypically linked with maths or science. I’m not good at those though! I would be very happy if at some point my manuscript would be picked up by a publisher just so I could add to a better range of voices surrounding disability. I’m seeing a lot of writing out there from the sidelines, like when I first started researching poems about autism, I found all these poems that a mother wrote about her autistic child. This is a form of othering. People are just trying to live their everyday lives. I just want to be part of a culture where people get to be the agents of their own stories.
One last question—what are you reading at the moment?
She Woke & Rose by Autumn Royal, which is this really beautiful book of poetry. I’m also reading Say Hello by Carly Findlay, which is her memoir. It’s a really validating read that makes me feel a lot of things but mostly frustration. I’m going to ‘Cultivating Creativity’ and I’m excited to see her speak there.
Alex will be performing her work at ‘Tell Me Like You Mean It’ on Monday 24 June
alongside writers Zoe Kingsley, Neika Lehman and Prithvi Varatharajan to celebrate the
launch of Volume 3: Tell Me Like You Mean It, an e-chapbook published by Australian Poetry and Cordite Poetry Review.
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