Tag: #News

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Taste a Star

Have you ever been told to ‘reach for the stars’?

It feels in a way, like I’ve reached one star at least. This isn’t to say that I’ve achieved everything I’ve ever wanted or that I don’t have more dreams, but a few big dreams have recently come true. Thought I’d reflect on how it feels.

A few weeks ago a piece that I pitched and wrote was published by the ABC. It was a huge thrill to see my words (and picture!) on the main news website. This isn’t even a dream I dared to express to anyone until it actually came true.

[Image description: an open laptop on a timber dining table. On the screen is the main page of the ABC news website, with Liel's picture under the title 'Featured'. The title under her photo reads 'Our literary world still has a long way to go for disability representation in fiction.']
On the front page.
[Image description: an open laptop on a timber dining table. On the screen is the main page of the ABC news website, with Liel’s picture under the title ‘Featured’. The title under her photo reads ‘Our literary world still has a long way to go for disability representation in fiction.’ Next to the laptop is a mug with a teabag, and beyond the table are children’s toys and laundry.]

When it came true, on January 4th, I wasn’t just thrilled, but also shocked by seeing myself on the front page of the news website and by all the lovely messages people sent me (“You’re in the news!”). I was also petrified of the responses to my piece (that you can find here).

I was scared for a few reasons. Firstly, the location of the piece meant many people would see it (not necessarily read though). I’ve never written to such a large, diverse audience before. Secondly, the topic I’ve chosen to explore is pretty taboo – ableism and other barriers to publishing isn’t something I see discussed often, and certainly not in mainstream media. And of course – aspiring to be a part of the publishing/writing community and industry means that criticizing it could be a dangerous, some may say foolish, act.

It was reassuring to have interviewed two incredibly talented disabled authors in preparation for this piece. Both Kay Kerr and Jessica Walton have been so generous with their time and perceptions – it has made the piece possible to write. Their input has provided very necessary context and support for my ideas. I’m so thankful to them both for agreeing to talk to me about such a personal and important topic.

The day of publication was filled with butterflies in my stomach and hastily reading people’s reactions to it. Of course I knew this was a huge thing, and a dream come true, but still I couldn’t quite taste the star that I was so grateful to be near. It was like touching the end of sparkles on a birthday cake – I was too scared to get my fingers close, whilst barely feeling the bright, captivating light.

Two months later another huge dream came true, when the book We’ve Got This – Stories by Disabled Parents came out. A piece of my writing is published in this anthology, and unlike the ABC article, I’ve known the day would come for a while.

I was also scared about this chapter being published, but somehow less so. Maybe because I’ve had longer to digest the idea that this will be published, or maybe because my words are printed in between words of others – and it somehow made me feel protected. The wisdom and humor of many talented writers and advocates surround mine in this anthology, and I feel privileged to be a part of it. (You can buy the book here).

Seeing my words printed in a book is like getting right into the centre of a star I’ve been dreaming of for decades. I’m so thankful to Eliza Hull for creating such a wonderful collection, and for Black Inc. books for believing in the importance of our stories.

[ID- Liel holding the book We’ve Got This: Stories by disabled parents in their hands. They’re wearing a flowery shirt and has a wide smile on their face.]
[Image description: 1- Liel reading the book We’ve Got This whilst holding a baby. She is wearing a blue top and black glasses. 2-Liel in a bookstore pointing to the book We’ve Got This. She’s wearing a black top and mask.  3- Liel holding the book We’ve Got This: Stories by disabled parents in their hands. They’re wearing a flowery shirt and has a wide smile on their face.]

Reflecting on both of these huge milestones leaves me feeling like I’m floating near the stars- those I’ve been told to reach for. I’m trying so hard to taste it, savour the feelings and sensations this place brings in me.

Imposter feelings still linger – that I’m still not a ‘real’ writer, or that this will be my ‘last shot’ and other similar statements float in my mind. I choose to let those thoughts go, and focus on what’s in front of me: I can see the shimmer of the star right here, and feel the beating of my passion in my heart. And that’s ought to be enough.

Liel K. Bridgford

P.S. if you’re around, there’s a book launch event on March 31st. I’ll be speaking with Eliza Hull about We’ve Got This and my experiences at Readings Hawthorn (Woiworung Country) at 6.30pm. The event is free and there’ll be time for questions and get a book signed. Book a ticket here.

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Podcasting Reflection and a big Announcement

In lockdown last year while getting into podcasts, I felt like I was traveling a huge gap in societal understanding of intersectionality. I wanted to build within it – to create sign posts around the darkness and shine a light through it, so that others can understand.

That’s how the idea of the (Un)marginalised podcast was born. Within a few weeks, I had the generous help of a few people – friends, acquaintances and even a couple of strangers. 

I didn’t know much about podcasting, but I had a vision – of telling stories of lived experience of intersectionality, in a way that was authentic, engaging and moving. The vision grew and materialised with the help of many including Matt McCleish (the first co-producer and editor), Lior Kenigsman and Gilad Etzkovich (who created the perfect logo), and my guests – Emily McIntyre, Sue, Pascha, Julie G., Jennifer Hankin, and Shira. 

One day in December 2020 we started. Sue connected and we pressed ‘record’. Sue and I chatted and untangled the complexities of living through intersectionality, of what it means to belong, don’t belong and partly belong. It was a beautiful couple of hours, where we talked about many interesting subjects including Mothers Day, mental health, racism, and more.

[ID: a photo of Liel sitting at a wooden desk in front of an open laptop and a large microphone. She is smiling, looking down at the laptop and is wearing a black top, brown glasses and a white watch.]
First Podcasting Interview!
[ID: a photo of Liel sitting at a wooden desk in front of an open laptop and a large microphone. She is smiling, looking down at the laptop and is wearing a black top, brown glasses and a white watch.]

Matt did an initial edit, while I orgniased more recordings. The next recording I did alone, with just my anxiety about technical issues. With each interview, I learned more about my interviewing skills and podcasting goals. Holding space, asking questions and expressing curiosity were already parts of my toolbox from counselling work. But I needed to learn other skills like when and how to disagree, and how to keep the conversation entertaining. I needed to find the light and shade, and I wanted to tell multiple stories simultaneously. 

Exploring and telling personal stories through an intersectionality lens has been a reflreshing, invigorating, at times tears-inducing process. Subsequent interviews went well, with thought-provoking conversations which I slowly got more comfortable to direct.

After sourcing out music and helping me find the right tone and structure to the episodes, Matt had to leave the project. He gave me a crash course in editing and soon I’ve spent nights editing. The whole thing took a lot more time than I’d anticipated, but I enjoyed every minute of it. 

Accessibility has always been a top priority of this project – I wanted to make sure the show reached as many people as possible, and made people feel safe and welcome. One of the ways to do this was to provide full episode transcripts, and it took me several hours per episode to transcribe. 

Becoming a podcaster has been such a learning curve. It was challenging to balance the funny, positive or entertaining content with the serious, heavy and sometimes even traumatic aspects of the storytelling. It’s not a balance that’s easy to achieve, and especially not in real-time interviewing. I had to get in touch not just with my curious self and the part of me that wanted to connect, but also with the content-consumer part of me that knows what an engaging episode sounds like. There were many different things to think about all at once! 

As I listened and moved tracks around on the screen, the importance and power of stories cemented in my mind. There is nothing quite like hearing from someone who has lived experience. To become an ally, to be an effective health professional, an advocate, or a good world citizen, one must engage with lived experience. 

My favourite part about the process was connecting with fellow humans. Although everyone has a unique story, there were many similarities. Validating isn’t a strong enough word to express how it feels when you realise there’s another human who shares your thoughts and feelings – it is more like anchoring my body into the ground. The season spoke to the fact that struggles I face are often struggles others face, and highlighted how many of those are avoidable, or at least could be mitigated through social justice. I can’t think of a better way to improve society than storytelling – and so I hope that by listening to those stories everyone can learn something and work towards a more just, equal world.  

The responses to the show have been incredible. It has received top ratings and excellent reviews. A couple of highlights were when Jennifer Hankin contacted me wanting to get interviewed, and when (Un)marginalised was ranked as number 3 in the top intersectionality podcasts of the year. 

The wonderful responses helped me feel that the work was worthwhile. Another aspect of podcasting that surprised me was how much money it cost. I’ve been using my personal savings for this, and due to the ongoing financial and time commitment, the season ended at episode seven. Finishing the season was sad, as I felt it was a job unfinished – there were so many more voices and perspectives I wanted to have on the show. 

With this in mind, I applied for grant funding, unsuccessfully. With the support of amazing and generous people I tried again a few months later – which brings me to the news part of this post:

A new season is coming, supported by the City Of Melbourne Arts Grants 2022. I am incredibly grateful and excited that the project was selected, and that I get to return to podcasting, producing and interviewing real people who navigate intersectionality.

Season Two Is coming!
[ID: a colourful background and white text. The background is made of small colourful shapes in shades of red, orange, yellow, green and purple. The white text reads ‘[UN] MARGINALISED PODCAST SEASON 2’]

The second season will be even better, with a similar format. A couple of small changes are a focus on artists connected with the City of Melbourne, and one live, IN PERSON recording event in Melbourne (crossing all fingers!). So, if you haven’t yet listened to the first season, now is your chance. If you have listened and enjoyed it, please remember to rate, review and subscribe. Most importantly, tell your friends!

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford 

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The Meaning of No and Big News

I’ve written ever since I can remember – early notebooks of my childhood are scattered with poems, short stories, magazines and even multi-chapter stories. Writing has always been an outlet through which I expressed feelings, thoughts, experiences, and shared them with others. I prided myself on my rhymed Bat-Mitzvah speech and on poetic cards for every occasion.

Thinking of writing as a career though is only something I’ve seriously considered in the last few years. Although I must admit to a childhood dream to write a book about my experiences growing up. It was a kind of comfort at hard times – imagining that at least I could write about what happened, to make the future world a better place. 

But taking writing more ‘seriously’ and submitting pieces to places inevitably led to receiving rejections – the No’s. You often hear stories of writers who became famous immediately. But for a lot of people, the road is more complicated. Trying to publish my writings in the Australian literary world has been a challenge, and that’s partly because I’m inexperienced, and don’t know the industry well, nor the people in it. But it’s also because there are still a lot of preferences in the industry for writings by Australian-born, Christian and non-disabled people.

My writing style is different to my peers, I know that because I can read their stuff, and I’ve been told I use English in unusual ways. I also write of ‘unusual’ subjects like the realities of being a disabled, immigrant parent or what it means to be a female in our patriarchal world. Writing for me is about many things, one of them is a tool to inspire change – for the better. And it’s also who I am – I write truthfully, because it’s how I like to live life. 

Receiving multiple No’s when sending out my writings has been hard, although I got used to it! At first, the meaning of No was a potential indication of the value of my craft or ideas. Slowly though, I’ve learned to re-assign meanings to the No’s. Recognising privileges helps, although it also enrages me at times. I know I need to work harder than some in order for my pieces to be considered for publication. (although I still have privileges that help me, like being white and at a socially acceptable body weight). 

I’ve reassigned the meanings for No’s by listening and reading other writer’s journeys, and deciding it’s ok that some places don’t want to publish my pieces. It also helps to think of the industry as a business – which it is – and realise that at that point in time, a particular person or people, didn’t think my piece was going to sell enough.

Expectation is another huge factor in how we react to life events, and so I changed my expectations rapidly since the early days of sending out my material. Although holding onto hope is useful, tampering my expectations and looking at the statistics help me feel grounded and deal with the No’s better. I have received many more No’s than Yes’s, thus far, so I now expect a No, and just feel pleasantly surprised when this expectation is proven wrong. 

Recently there have been a few Yes’s which I’m very excited about. A few aren’t yet announced in public, so you’ll have to wait a little longer. In case you’re not following me on social media (which is a loss for you), here are a few Yes’s that you can check out:

  • I’ve written several blog posts for SANE Australia, which has been enjoyable and fruitful. I’ve learned a little more about the industry in the process, and loved combining my writing skills together with my mental health knowledge and lived experience. Here is a summary of the blogs: 
  • As for the biggest Yes I’ve ever received, I have been honoured to be selected to the TOP 5 ARTS Residency by the ABC. I will be working with and learning from some of the best in the media and publishing industry, and I cannot wait to commence in September. You can find out more here. This is by far the biggest Yes I’ve ever received, and I feel privileged and humbled to be selected among a group of talented people to this unique program.  

As for the No’s, they keep coming. Slowly though, their weight decreases, while I focus on the writing itself, and the beautiful Yes’s that come in other forms to formal publications: when someone clicks their fingers during my poetry reading, or comes up to say they enjoyed it, or laugh while I perform. A Yes can look like a comment on a social media post or a new subscriber to my blog. Although those Yes’s don’t pay the bills, they fill my heart with hope that my words are valuable – at least sometimes, at least to some. 

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford