Tag: #writing

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2022 Summary, 2023 Intentions

Last year feels impossible to summarise, perhaps because living it felt exhausting or all consuming. This was the first year out of lockdowns in a while, and I have also done some huge things, personally and professionally. 

Here’s a very brief summary of 2022, a few things I’m grateful for, and my intention setting for 2023.

Personally, in 2022, I:

  • had another baby (!!)
  • moved house, and set up a home in a new area
  • had overseas family visits
  • became an Australian citizen, then voted in a victorian election

Professionally, in 2022, I:

  • completed a full year of practicing as a Provisional Psychologist. 
  • completed the final project of the ABC top 5 Arts residency and released a radio package about disability representation in fiction through The Book Show. 
  • have produced, created and hosted the second season of the (Un)marginalised Podcast, which included a live, hybrid recording event with an audience, as a part of Melbourne Fringe Festival. What an honour to have a physical and online rooms filled with people who engaged in the conversation I had with Carly Findlay about disability, ableism, intersectionality, and more. 
  • officially became a published author when the book We’ve Got This came out with Black Inc. books (edited by Eliza Hull). I was also lucky enough to have a launch event at Readings, talk about my experience, and participate in a book panel about parenting with a disability as a part of a Mother’s Day event. 
  • spoke at a medical conference for the first time IRL: about disability, ableism inclusion and anti-ableism work 
  • was appointed editor of Writing Place 2022 by Arts Access Australia. What a privilege it was to read the works of disabled creators and curate a magazine filled with talent, wisdom and authenticity. 
  • had my first live radio interview with 3RC, talking about writing disabled parenting. Find it here.
  • was interviewed for 9 News about my experience of anticipating birth as a disabled person during the covid restrictions. Find the article here.
  • Was published in ABC Art. I wrote about disability representation in fiction. It was so great to speak with two disabled authors I respect and admire for the article and the radio package.  

A few things I am grateful for over the last year: 

  • Being supported by family, gifted family & chosen family in the transition to becoming a family of five (Chilli included) 
  • Asking for help when things got hard and prioritising just enough self-care to sustain my health 
  • Visits from overseas family and spending time together 
  • Moving house and starting to make it our home 
  • Having multiple opportunities to write, advocate, educate, train and speak with people and groups or organisations about disability, justice and intersectionality 
  • Getting to know new people, and connecting with people who engaged open heartedly with the content and with us 
  • Growing my Patreon community that supports my website, podcast and advocacy work
  • Becoming a published author

Intentions for 2023: 

  • Focus on completing as many requirements for my internship as possible 
  • Form a new writing group 
  • Create a writing routine that fits with my other commitments 
  • Prioritise self-care and form routines for exercise and sleep 
  • Spend my kids’ day doing enriching activities 
  • Rest 
  • Be present 

Thank you for all of your support over the last year! 

A special shout out to Sally Bridgford and Yaron Kenigsman for their Patreon support! Could not have done everything without you ❤️

If you want to get more behind the scenes content my Patreon account is on https://www.patreon.com/LielKBridgford

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford 

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(Un)marginalised: S2, E5 with Laura Pettenuzzo

In this week’s episode of the podcast, I spoke with Laura Pettenuzzo about internalised ableism, how using a wheelchair can be easier than walking, physio, writing days, spoons, dating with disabilities, easy English, how our intersections shape our reading and writing, chopped vegetables. 

Content note: ableism, internalised ableism, mental health. 

Connect with Laura:

Connect with Liel & continue the conversation on:

Please note the views expressed by the interviewees do not necessarily reflect my own.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 40:55 — 74.9MB) | Embed

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(Un)marginalised: S2, E4 with Zoe Simmons

In this episode of the podcast, I spoke with Zoe Simmons about chronic pain, how weight and gender shapes our experience of the medical system, internalised ableism, changing our relationship with mobility aids, mental health challenges, shame, pride and so much more!

Content note: this episode contains discussions about fatphobia, ableism, Mental illness, suicide, sexual harrasment and assault

Find Zoe:

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Please note the views expressed by the interviewees do not necessarily reflect my own.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 37:54 — 69.4MB) | Embed

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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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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 

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The Undefined Path

This is a post that’s a little different than usual – short and sharp, and hopefully leaves you want to read more. 

Over the last several months I’ve been contemplating my next steps, hoping to do more writing and creating. A few weeks ago I resigned from my work in a non-for-profit and am now in the process of figuring out. Many people ask me what’s next and the simple answer is I don’t know, and sometimes it’s nice not to know. 

The unknown is scary and intimidating but also exciting and energising.

I have several ideas brewing and I’ve started working on several projects (some community, creative, or a combination). I promise to share when anything concrete comes to fruition. 

Meanwhile, I wanted to share a little of how it feels to be in this space, so here is the first stanza of a new poem (I wrote especially for you):

—

The path may not 

reveal itself

upon my calling,

it may keep winding 

by its own tune.

—

P.S. I do not usually share my poems fully because I hope to publish them somewhere beyond this blog. If you want to read or see more, head to my socials (@LielKBridgford), follow me, and tell a friend.

Until next time, 


Liel K. Bridgford

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Leaving Performance Anxiety at Home

If you follow me on social media, you would’ve seen I’ve had my very first feature in a poetry night. Actually, do you follow me on social media? If not-follow me to support my writing and see what I’m up to between posts: https://www.facebook.com/L.K.Bridgford/

https://www.instagram.com/l.k.bridgford/

So, what is a feature? In most poetry nights an established poet is introduced, then takes the stage for a longer reading than others, privileged to be a central part of the event. When I first started reading at poetry events, I wondered how one becomes a feature, and looked up at those who were skillfully presenting. I’ve observed that majority of feature poets I’ve seen are at least 1. Regular attendants at such events 2. Great poets 3. Strong performers and sometimes 4. Published. 

At the time I wasn’t a regular attendant, I barely considered myself a poet, and my performances resembled more of a frightened kitten in a pet shop than a confident spoken word performer. With time, my confident grew and my performance improved. If I’d recorded myself and put the videos one after the other, you’d see my head and gaze gradually moving up from my phone towards the audience, to a point I could make eye contact. You’d also hear my voice rising with each night. The shake of my hands slowly dissipated, so I could use them to hold the microphone or gesture alongside the words of my poems. 

Then I was gratefully and kindly invited to become a feature in a local poetry night called Be Mused – Poetry & Humanity. I was somewhat nervous about it. I knew it was a unique opportunity to showcase my skills, connect with the poetry community, as well as receive some feedback and recognition for the work I’ve been doing. It was also a chance to prove to everyone (myself especially), how much I sucked. 

I got as organised as I could before the feature; decided on an outfit (which I ditched in the last minute), decided on poems to read and the order in which to read them (which I changed a few hours before the night). I took a couple of the poems to my writing group and received the worst feedback about one of them. “The line…is the most poetic line in this text, and I don’t like it.” I took the feedback quietly, with a smile and an open mind. I pondered what this feedback meant for hours and reached several possible conclusions: 1. This poem sucks. 2. This person didn’t like this poem. 3. I am useless as a writer & poet and should give up immediately. 4. The poem has potential, but it’d need a complete re-write. or 5. I have excessively high self-confidence, therefore my ability to objectively reflect on my writing skills is zero. Therefore I probably suck at writing, but at other things I think I’m good at too. I most definitely should not go on stage to perform as a feature poet and embarrass myself. I didn’t want to be seen as overconfident and presumptuous. 

Eventually I settled on options 2 and 4 as most comfortable to handle. After all, I cannot give up now. I’ve already said I’ll be there, and if any or all other options are true, I shall find out on the night. I decided to do the feature anyway and also read that poem, because most other feedback about it was different (i.e. positive) and I wanted to read it. 

In The Zone. Image: a white woman’s face as she is reading a poem into a red microphone. she is wearing brown glasses and colorful artwork is visible behind her.

I remembered what I enjoyed when listening to other people. I decided to do more ‘me’ and less ‘nerves’, leaving my nerves at home. I aimed to be in the moment and connect with my poems and the audience. With this in mind I took the stage (read: just stood at the front of the room). I was incredibly lucky to have support people with me. I was hearing clicks from the audience as I was going along, meaning they liked what they’d heard. ‘I’m not completely rubbish’ I thought as those fingers clicked in the background. My strategy seemed to have worked. Notably, I enjoyed it. 

Are you listening? Image: a woman standing in a dim room, a small light shining towards a stand in front of her. She is looking at the audience, reading into a microphone. Some people from the audience are partly visible in the background.

I walked out refreshed and inspired, as one feels after a long hot shower. The positive feedback is the most exhilarating and scary thing. Self-doubt pops up and says things like ‘What if these were your best poems? it’s all downhill from here’. These doubts and anxieties are to be expected. This is the talk of the achiever side of me, which has been on autopilot for so long. Having to be ‘great’ or the best, because otherwise I’ll just be me (read: disabled human) and that’s not enough. Luckily, I know better than that now. I write because I want to write, writing itself is the goal. The creative side of my brain has been dormant for too long, like a deserted petrol station in a ghost mining town. Now it is finally free, and all I intend to do is let it be.

Goodbye, performance anxiety. 

Feeling like a real poet with my poems organised and ordered in a folder. I also got lucky in the draw, supporting the Australian Red Cross. Image: a book laid on a black folder. The book is Unexpected Clearing – Poems by Rose Lucas.

Until next time. 

L. K. Bridgford 

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My Poetry and I

If you follow me on social media, you’ve probably noticed I’ve been doing more poetry nights recently. (If you’re not following, scroll down to the bottom of the page to find the links or search L. K. Bridgford on Facebook/Instagram)

I’ve recently been asked if I put my poems up on my page or blog, and unfortunately the answer is no. Why is that? Because I hope one day to publish these somewhere, which won’t happen if they’re already available on the internet. I thought perhaps reflecting on my journey with poetry would be worth-while.

Poetry is actually one of the first types of writings I’ve ever done. I have poems I wrote growing up, and surprise-surprise, they are pretty depressing! I found a few recently when going through old notebooks, one was called Alone. I used to write about feeling isolated or excluded, and about hope for peace (which, if you read about what was happening in Israel in the 1990’s – would be easy to understand). Oh I also used to write in Hebrew (my first language) but now, I write mostly in English.

Poetry was also one of the first things I started writing when I returned to it. Poems come to me like clouds, arriving unexpectantly, without explanation, structure or clear direction. They come out onto the page naturally (in their draft form, of course). I then spend time editing and finding the exact words, metaphors or rhymes to suit the theme.

I came across an advertisement for a local poetry slam last year. I’ve never been to one before, or even knew these existed! A night of reading poems? How delightful! I went along to see what it was like, and to read out a poem I was exploding from the desire to share. The poem is called Cries. It reflects on the cries of a mother as she hears her baby’s cries.

Riding a water roller-coaster.
Image: white woman standing in front of a small crowd, looking at a phone. She is wearing a cream top, pale blue jeans and brown glasses.

The adrenaline hit that I felt reading out my poem, amid my shaking hands and voice, was addictive. I returned again and again since that first time, reading out various poems, and listening, soaking in other poets’ words and wisdom. Being present at a poetry night feels like riding a water roller-coaster, exciting but gentle at the same time, caressing and convulsing all at once.

I continued to feel inspired to write more poems, about various life experiences, and to read these out to my fellow poets. Reading out my poems fills me with fuel to keep writing.

Recently I wrote a poem called Trapped which was directly inspired by my online fibular hemimelia (FH) community. I was so keen to share it with them, and so asked a friend to record me reading it out. It felt so incredibly special to connect with my fellow FH brothers that way. It is the shared understanding I always craved growing up – I am living it, and am so grateful.

I don’t know what poem I will write next, but I do know there is one brewing in the back of my mind. I just need time to let it arrive.

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford

P. S. If you’re in Melbourne, you’re welcome to come along to a poetry night – just send me a message on social media and I’ll let you know about my next appearance.