Linkspam Friday: April 5

If all goes well, when this post goes up I should be escaping my GP’s office after another biopsy on my hand: an another adventure in our long-running quest to discover what is causing my dermatitis. I can’t say that I need this experience again, but at least I can write about wounds and blood with verisimilitude, and I’ve two characters for which this is quite important. Small mercies, right?

I am struggling at the moment in keeping up with everything in a consistent manner, which I think you know based on the the dust bunnies covering this blog. (I mean, I still haven’t updated my books with my new pronouns.) But, since I have written and made a couple of things, I think it’s worth gathering them here in the quest to appear accomplished.

Fiction

Cover image for Hallo, Aro: Allosexual Aromantic Flash Fiction by K. A. Cook. Cover features dark pink handwritten type on a mottled green background with a large line-drawn peacock feather, several sketch-style leaves and swirly text dividers. Green arrows sit underneath each line of text.Hallo, Aro: Existence: For me, one of the more profound allo-aro experiences is the truth that it’s difficult to find information about aromanticism as separate from asexuality. This story adds a little bit of creative licence to autobiography and is in no way a complete rendition of my experiences, but the core of this, in terms of someone else’s inability to offer the word aromantic, is true.

(You can also read this on Tumblr or in PDF and EPUB formats.)

Love in the House of the Ravens: I’m posting the story of how Darius learns about the word “aromantic” in shorter snippets over April, Autism Acceptance Month. I’m quite excited at being able to post these stories about how autism and ableism impact his ability to come to terms with his aromanticism: it’s been a while since autism has been as central in my storytelling. This will become its own book, a sequel to Certain Eldritch Artefacts; I just thought I’d do something a bit different with how I initially post it.

(You can keep up via my tag on Tumblr and category on WordPress. I may do a proper linked master post when my hand heals.)

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Platform 16 – Digital Edition

I should leave this post for tomorrow, but I’m excited, so you get it now. Apologies for those who follow via email and have had their in-boxes spammed. One day I will be a consistent blogger … but today is not that day.

I’ve mentioned Platform before: our somewhat anti-literary, literary magazine, commissioned by the amazing Bruno Lettieri, sponsored by Victoria University, devoted to an ethos of established, community and emerging writers gracing the pages of the same magazine. This issue is a special one. Created by an editorial team of Professional Writing and Editing TAFE and Higher Education Communications students, designed by Beata Cranswick’s Advanced Diploma Students, featuring the well-known Baby Guerrilla art that graces the main entrance of VU’s Footscray Park campus, it is our first-ever themed issue: education!

We tackle education in and out of the classroom. We write about the teachers that inspired us, the teachers that frightened us and the teachers that said nothing at all. We write about, I think, the importance of education in how it shapes us to become the writers we are now, its challenges and pressures, the memories it leaves behind. At a time when universities are suffering tremendous financial cuts, to a point where getting funding for a publication like Platform isn’t as simple as it should be, I think this issue is a much-needed reminder of why education matters.

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Rotunda in the West and other adventures in story

I wrote a piece about last Saturday’s Highlands Rotunda near Yea, which has been posted on Facebook: Rotunda went to the lush highlands.

(PDF format here!)

To place this piece in context, I need to explain two things.

The first: Bruno Lettieri. His passion is developing the capacity for story, and by extension the growth, development and community found in story, in others. Not literature, necessarily – I wouldn’t say he’s about literature at all. He’s not about technical polish. He’s about artistic and creative expression, most often in words. He’s about the power in that expression to transform lives. Bruno is, I think, about the most important human force extant: story.

He, with the support and sponsorship of Victoria University’s Diploma of Professional Writing and Editing (TAFE) department, is the commissioning and founding editor of Platform magazine and the organiser, promoter and spokesperson of Rotunda in the West. I’ve spoken about Platform‘s unique ethos before – the combination of community, emerging and established writers gracing the page of a free magazine that goes out to schools, libraries, community centres and many other western suburbs locations. Any local writer must know him as a vibrant bundle of enthusiasm driven by the need to help, nurture, sponsor and encourage the people he finds.

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Launch: Platform, edition 15

It’s nice, I think, that I get to begin the new year by celebrating an accomplishment in the old. (It’s also far more interesting than talking about my pain or my depression or the challenges of the holiday season.)

Last year for my Publishing Studio class, I was part of a team of students that produced the student anthology and edition 15 of a literary (or anti-literary) magazine, Platform.

Today, I get to bring to you the digital fruit of our labours, downloadable in PDF format: Platform 15.

This issue features the poetry, fiction and non fiction talents of many of my classmates (and an amazing teacher of mine) and my first submitted-for-publication creative non fiction piece/personal essay on writing, ‘Writing the right reasons’.

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Launch Week: Up Close and Personal

Yesterday I went to the Professional Writing and Editing end-of-year break-up. Chat with fellow students and teachers, writers’ games (demonstrating the awesome talent in the room), awards, and the launch of the 2013 student anthology, Up Close and Personal.

On the one hand, I am thoroughly relieved to reach the end of the year (although it’s still not quite over for me – still got a project or two to wrestle with) because trying to balance full-time classwork and my projects was becoming difficult, especially when the lure of actually making things was taking hold. When I need to choose my computer time carefully, creative pursuits win over assignments (even though I’m pretty good at analysis and generally enjoy doing it). While I do enjoy learning and the academic environment, I enjoy creating things more, which makes sense: I am a creative. Now I know I have skills, now I have confidence in those skills, I am ready to get out of the classroom.

On the other hand, I am saying farewell to an environment where I am respected, appreciated, seen, and that doesn’t come without its sorrow; it’s too new a sensation to come without grief and anxiety attached for its loss.

Hold on while I venture into a tangent. It’ll make sense at the end, I promise.

My psychologist has given me homework: to stop and acknowledge my accomplishments. I’m not good at doing that. I feel tremendously guilty when I do, for how dare I put myself on a pedestal above anyone else? And at the same time, how dare I congratulate myself for doing something that’s just expected of me and anybody else anyway? I mean, sure, I’m dragging myself out of the pit that is anxiety and depression and family, and I’m becoming ever-more functional, but isn’t this just what I should have been? Therefore, isn’t it arrogance to give my accomplishments any weight at all?

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