Until recently, however, I’d only read his fiction works and the introductions or afterwards (particularly those in his short story collections).While I was staying with my family I noticed On Writing sitting in the bookshelf and decided now was the time to finally read it.

More than just writing, this book looks at creativity and the creative process.

Now I’m not the kind of reader that needs to know everything about the author but I am the kind of writer that likes to find out how other writers work. I’m the kind of artist who likes to constantly try new things, whether it is for my writing, acting or some other creative venture and I approached On Writing with this perspective in mind.

What impressed me about this book is that King writes it knowing his is just one of the many perspectives on how stories are created. There is no right way to create.

Having said that, the section on grammar and style – elements that make up what King calls the writers “toolbox” – is fantastic. It made me realise how powerful a noun-verb combination is (eg glass shatters) and how easy it is to slip into the passive voice when writing. Passive is safe but active is engaging, or as King puts it:

“With an active verb, the subject of the sentence is doing something. With a passive verb, something is being done to the subject of the sentence. The subject is just letting it happen.”

I like that last line a lot. I’m not the kind of person who just lets things happen, I like to be involved, and thinking of the subject of a sentence as having that same right makes it a lot easier to stay in the active voice. I still use the passive voice, partly because it feels safe (or, to give an example “it can feel safe to write in the passive voice) but also because it lends a conversational tone to the writing. The lifestyle and finance articles I write for work often need that casual tone to them, so I mix it up with a combination of active and passive sentences but I still like to remind myself not to just let things happen all the time.

But On Writing is not just a book about how to write, it’s also about King’s life and talent. His views on talent and, by extension, passion are refreshing and motivating:

“When you find something at which you are talented, you do it…until your fingers bleed or your eyes are ready to fall out of your head. Even when no one is listening (or reading, or watching), every outing is a bravura performance, because you as the creator are happy.”

From that point on (around halfway through the book) I began to read On Writing not as a book for writers but as one for creators. I found it applicable to acting as much (sometimes more) as to writing, because he is write. You want to do something because you love it or you’re good at it and you get that buzz out of doing it.

Making money from writing or acting or singing or dancing or anything else that someone loves might be the surface layer of what creative people want, but isn’t the actual creation the important part? Isn’t the real key to find a sustainable way to keep creating (which is why many of us want to make money out of our talent in the first place)?

What On Writing reminded me was that it doesn’t always matter how, or where or even why I act or write, but just that I am doing things that I love because I want to and I always will.

Years later I was the one browsing and chatting to those very same people, who would order books in specially for me, recommend titles and loan stuff out even when I’d forgotten (or misplaced) my library card. Maybe it’s because I came from a town with such a strong sense of community, but I’ve always associated libraries with socialising.

When I started high school my friends and I would go through book after book at almost the same time, racing each other and waiting til the last person had finally finished before going into long talks about the stories and characters, often with the librarians adding their own comments. To me, libraries were more than a place to get books – they were a place to discuss them and (eventually) develop my own stories.

Later, when I moved away for uni I found some librarians were not quite the same as their small-town counterparts. I think I ended up knowing sections of my campus library better than the staff actually, but still there were those comfy seats and beanbags where people could discuss books, stories and ideas.

A cross-section of Brisbane Square Library.

When the new Brisbane Square Library opened (around 2007 or 2008), linking all the local libraries together through a giant catalogue, I was in book heaven. I also became incredibly impressed by the resources the library had – study rooms, audition and performance spaces, regular free seminars and discussions as well as a range of other events for all ages. In terms of community involvement and catalogues, it’s one of my favourite libraries (though talking to the staff was a very rare occurrence, so no personalised recommendations there).

The Vancouver Public Library also seemed to have a lot of workshops and community events, as well as language classes for people from non-English speaking backgrounds. Unfortunately I was less than impressed by the catalogue and took more advantage of bookstores (which are so much more affordable than their Australian counterparts).

Then I moved to Melbourne last year and started haunting the city library. It’s catalogue is, as far as I’m concerned, shocking for a city, let alone one that UNESCO named a City of Literature in 2011 (but I’ve written more on that here).

There is, however, some redeeming features of the library, like regular art exhibitions, a beautiful piano that anyone can play (and what I’ve heard is lovely) and a Cafe Poet In Residence program. Still, for a city of some four million people, the two story building feels cramped and leaves rather a lot to be desired.

I haven’t exactly had a great time with the staff either. One customer service representative outright accused me of lying when I couldn’t return a book after hours due to the return chute being crammed to overflowing point and another criticised how often I put items on hold (I’m usually a fast reader).

It’s really quite sad that I haven’t come across friendly staff in libraries in so long, it takes away from the entire experience. In response to the last post I wrote about eBooks, fellow reader and blogger Cassie (see Books and Bowel Movements) said she’d had a great time in public libraries in Australia, meeting people and getting librarian recommendations – so I guess there are still some good libraries out there.

Unfortunately, these days I feel as though I like the idea of libraries more than the actual experience of going to one but for now I’ll just hope it’s not like that everywhere and enjoy the books I can get my hands on.

Image: petahopkins

While I have no problem with other people using eReaders really (apart from the impact it may have on the publishing industry), you will not see me with one unless I am desperate or all the actual books in the world disappear. I would rather read a textbook on economics than switch to an eReader.

Incomparable: Amazon's Kindle eBook reader vs. books.

“What about when you travel?” one of my friends asked when I expressed this sentiment. Even then I would rather lug a heavy hardcover around than tote a tiny tablet filled with screen-sized pages that can even be made to sound like a proper book. Usually I plan ahead, however, and pick up paperbacks that are enjoyable but not necessarily collectable.

A friend of mine who owned a cafe and used bookstore years ago told me that when she finished with books she didn’t want to keep (or resell) she would leave them somewhere public and hope another person would pick them up to read. I loved this idea and started to leave my travel books at hostels, airports and shopping centres with little notes attached saying things like “I really enjoyed this book but have no room for it in my luggage. Please read it or pass it on to someone you think would like it.”

It’s actually one of my favourite things about reading when I travel. Just like sharing the books I do want to keep is one of my favourite parts of being a reader. I know some eBooks can be shared, and I know if you get them in a format like .pdf they can be given away, but as far as I’m concerned it’s not the same.

The main benefit I can see in getting an eBook is that it is so much cheaper than an actual book (especially in Australia where new releases sometimes cost as much as $40). That won’t stop me from buying or borrowing books though. I love them just like I love magazines and newspapers.

For me, reading is as much about the experience as it is about the words. There is something so much more real and personal about holding a book, smelling the pages (yes I do that) and being able to turn them as you go. If money or a bit of extra weight to my luggage is the price I have to pay for that experience, then it’s more than worth it.

Image: goXunuReviews

Then, every so often, you will get an opinion piece or article about homeschooling that brings up a huge debate about formal and non-formal education. I stumbled across such a piece earlier this week on Mamamia.

The writer, Kate Fridkis, was an “unschooler” all the way to college, and has a lot of positive things to say about her experience. The 300-plus comments, however, present the mixed reaction of horror, criticism, praise and uncertainty that most people who are homeschooled (or unschooled if you like) will be familiar with.

It makes me think of all the different conversations I’ve had about being homeschooled. My parents decided to homeschool (in a very non-religious way) their children right from the start, but they left it open to us so we could decide if and when we wanted to go to school. My older sister went when she was 10 (I think), my younger brother went when he was eight and I went for one term when I was nine but didn’t really like it.

I did like eating dirt though...

Instead, I went back to homeschooling and decided I would like high school better. But instead of waiting for the group of Grade Seveners I should have been with (the ones mostly turning 13 when they got there), I knuckled down with books of coursework and got through Grades Five and Six in one year, then went to high school with some friend a couple of years older than me (they were turning 13, I was just about to turn 11).

I’d always been very mature and took to high school just as well as the next person (save the one Judgmental Teacher who hated that I was younger and had been homeschooling). In fact, I loved it. I went from strength to strength, went to uni, got paid work as a writer, theatre facilitator and actor and haven’t looked back.

But I’ll never forget the great times I had homeschooling. We used to go to these great homeschooling camps at nearby cabins on the beach, where we’d meet other families and run around with our homeschooled peers while parents talked teaching, raising kids and life. They also treated us like people, which is probably one of the reasons I have always been able to talk to almost anyone.

The kinship with these people is amazing. I am still close friends with a lot of them, and my Mum actually met my Stepdad at these camps years before they got together. I had a full life from the start and it was wonderful for my creativity.

Not everyone has this experience though. I know homeschoolers who feel they have missed out on things or have trouble socialising (definitely not an issue with me), but I know people who have been to school and feel the same.

I think what helped me was that I grew up in a small, beautiful valley town that already had a strong sense of community. Bellingen is the best place I could have been because everyone knew everyone and there are so many artists, writers and performers in the area.

Who wouldn't love growing up here?!

I grew up playing with my neighbours once they got home from school, picking blackberries with their mum and making jam during the day, dancing at the local ballet school and acting as much as I possibly could. I think my Mum may even have some of the first stories I wrote as well. So for me, homeschooling doesn’t seem that different.

The judgement mostly comes from a question Kate brought up in her post – “which one of your parents taught you?” or in my case “who taught you?”

My parents separated when I was six and we moved with Mum from a bushland property into town. She was at work most of the time, so I either went to Day Care or (when I was a bit older) stayed at home by myself. Occasionally Dad would come in, and if I was sick or something happened I could go to my neighbours (who worked from home), but a lot of the time I just worked from textbooks. When I wanted a break I took one and if I wanted to do something different I could write stories, play the piano, sing or star in my own little plays (usually without an audience).

So “who taught you” is a tough question to answer simply. My fallback answer is “mostly I used textbooks”, but depending on the kind of reaction I want I could also say “me” or “no one”.

Did I miss out on vital education? I don’t think so. I was in the top classes at high school, except for maths, and even that has improved over the years (writing finance articles will do that for you). Most people I talk to remember experiences in primary school, more than the actual learning, and I was lucky enough to have a lot of experiences that enriched my childhood.

In the last year, homeschooling has started to mean even more to me. Moving to a new city and working at home as a freelancer has meant my social circle has changed a lot.

In the past I had a good mix of friends from school, uni and work, but this year I only knew a handful of people. I think I might have gone mad working from home if I wasn’t already familiar with it from childhood. And I don’t know how I would have made friends without the social skills and open-mindedness that I developed from a very young age.

For me, homeschooling is an experience that keeps on giving. Will I homeschool if I have kids? No idea. But that’s not really the point of writing this, right now I just want to share my own thoughts because I think our lives and stories can provide new perspectives and teach us in a way that no syllabus ever could.

The "Magazines - The Power of Print" ad that inspired this post.

That’s what I heard two years ago at a conference about the future of journalism: “Print is dead”. But the crowd of journalists, bloggers and various other media types there were still discussing it. And still are.

In response to my last post k-hodd – a real life friend and fellow media type – wrote the following:

“…the times is starting to wind down the printing of their magazine, prefering to use internet and phone apps to deliver news… it won’t be too long until all the others follow…”

Is that true?

Not according to The Association of Magazine Media, which launched an ad campaign in March 2010 entitled “Magazines – The Power of Print”. I came across one of their ads while enjoying a magazine one Sunday morning.

“Will the internet kill magazines?” it read, catching my eye in a way many of the fashion and make up ads on surrounding pages did not.

“Did instant coffee kill coffee?” Was the next question, and I laughed as I read it, almost spilling my coffee onto the page.

It got my attention, so much so that I went online and looked at the campaign website for some more information. The facts section has some interesting information about the state of magazines at the moment, including information about the growth of magazine readership over the past five years, the increase in subscriptions and research suggesting it is “the number one medium of engagement”.

I know facts can be skewed any way you like, but these ones put up a good argument for the thriving nature of magazines. And, thinking about it, I realise I fit into these statistics. I started regularly reading magazines when I was in my early teens, stopped after high school, then picked it up again at the start of 2008. What is it about them that’s so compelling?

The thing that stands out to me is the features. Sure, you can see pictures or read Q&A type interviews online (or video interviews), but feature articles? Well, like many other things on the internet, they are out there, but I wouldn’t read half of the things I do if it was exclusively online. A 2000 word article on someone’s travel experiences? Or a political figures life before power? I can just imagine the ads flashing along, the annoying scrolling or the links to further pages. No thanks.

For years now people have considered internet use to be linked with short attention spans, with research and analysis which has been overwhelmingly pointing in that direction for years now. My friends in the web series community often discuss the “ideal” length for an episode, often with answers ranging from 2 minutes to 10 minutes.

Could you read anything substantial in that time? Maybe, but whether I would is another question. To hark back to the Times, I did read this article about Bill Wasik’s thoughts and findings on internet fads (published in the book And Then There’s This). I did not, however, bother with Boston Globe’s provokatively entitled piece “Too much surfing online shortens attention span”, partly because I would have had to pay to subscribe, and partly because I would have had to take time to subscribe.

Doesn’t this information suggest that online and print mediums are different creatures? And that, while closely related, they may have different functions and purposes?

I don’t think print is dead. I still love newspapers, and the fact that it took two weeks for two online journalists here in Canada to correct an interesting human interest piece on the news site they wrote for (where corrections would have been printed no later than a week after), just makes me love them more.

People in print feel the need to take more care with their work – once it’s sent it’s done. I suspect some people working online feel that they have to be quick, and get things out there immediately, which can lead to a work-in-progress mentality that I see on news sites across the board (even the best in Australia).

Don’t these changes suggest that there is more to this than a simple statement that print is dead? Did video kill radio? Did movies kill the theatre? Is anything that ingrained in our culture ever really going to die?

I don’t know for sure, but I would say that Darwin’s scientific theories can be applied – it’s survival of the fittest these days, and evolution is the main alternative to extinction. If print can evolve (and embrace features), then it’s not going anywhere.

Are calls being substituted by texts and social media sites? Photo: Alton

Last week I was saying goodbye to one of my friends and, anxious that we may not see each other again before I travel, I asked “can we catch up before I leave?”. The reply was a sincere “of course!”, followed by the jarring phrase “I’ll Facebook you.”

I’m sorry, when did that become a primary means of contacting a friend?

When I brought this up with a mutual friend she said Facebook was the main way our friend got in touch with people. Ok, I can kind of accept that, it’s not just me, but my initial reaction got me thinking: how does new media affect relationships for different people?

A couple of days later I read an article by John Birmingham about the death of the phone call. He makes some very valid points about convenience, particularly when it comes to texting, emailing or “facebooking” someone. The comments overwhelmingly lean towards tossing out the phone call and using some other means to contact people. Is that really what we should be doing?

Birmingham used journalism as an example. When you’re interviewing someone face-to-face or over the phone, you have to write madly to get it all down and make sure it’s all accurate. Then you have to transcribe it, then work it into the article. If you email the questions the talent can reply when they want, with well composed answers, and you can cut-and-paste without all that effort. But is that better?

I think I was lucky with my journalism lecturers at uni. They made sure we did either in-person or phone interviews whenever possible, and I appreciate that so much. Sure, it is unequivocally easier to email someone, but the answers are not in the moment, and you can’t gauge the tone as well.

That’s the thing with written responses for any thing, you can’t tell what the person feels and that can lead to misunderstandings. Is it just me that finds myself analysing emails and text messages for the meaning behind the words?

I’ll admit I’m harsh when it comes to communication. If I give someone my phone number, I expect a call (or I will call them). If they text me instead, I tend to take my time replying, or don’t reply at all. Yes, it’s brutal, but that’s the way I work. At least with a phone call you can say everything you need to and leave it at that. It’s more immediate, it’s more personal and far more direct.

So where do we go from here? Most people seem to be turning away from “old” forms of communication, is that progress? Is it progress for the sake of progress? And, personal preferences aside, can these different means of communicating complement each other?

It seems every few months someone is touting the death of something – newspapers, magazines, dvds, the cinema, cds, etc etc – are they really dying?

Cheers, friends? Photo: Caspermoller

I knew before I came to Canada that Australians had a serious reputation when it comes to drinking. I also knew that they weren’t necessarily seen as the most responsible people in the world, and the number of origin-related jokes I’ve copped since moving to Vancouver have provided me with myriad perspectives on the way Aussies are seen.

Normally I don’t care too much. I mean, I left  for a reason, didn’t I? I haven’t holed up in Whistler (dubbed “Northern Australia” by some witty locals) with my fellow countrymen or spent that much time seeking them out. They’re everywhere anyway, and in fact I try to avoid most of them.

What I did find, a few nights ago, is that a combination of alcohol and good (Canadian) company can attract other Aussies, and inevitably leads to what I can only think of as a kind of patriotic bonding. At the time it seems normal, even logical, to talk about all sorts of things purely because you all come from the same country, and I was happily doing so for ages that night. Once they left, however, I realised they weren’t really the types of people I would associate with – here or there.

This type of camaraderie is what I like to call a “Five Minute Friendship” – it takes you five minutes to become “good friends” with people, and five minutes to forget them once they’ve left.

I’ve had a few Five Minute Friends over the years, a mix of travellers, musicians and writers, but it somehow becomes more pronounced when you’re in a different country and come across people from the same country. My Canadian friends all brought it up the next day, though I have seen them make the same kinds of friends on other occasions without any interest…

What spurs this kind of one-night-friendship? Is it simply alcohol, or a similar cultural background? And why the fickle change in outlook once the moment’s gone?

Kangaroos are one of the animals currently considered to be overpopulating Australia

There was a lot of controversy when the marketing of kangaroo meat went into overdrive as a way of culling the massive populations, with animal rights groups calling for more humane treatment of these national icons. It’s always seemed strange to me, to eat a meat from animals I grew up feeding for fun, but at the same time I still believe in an “each to their own” philosophy when it comes to what we eat.

What I didn’t realise was that this method of population control might end up applied to different animals in Australia.

Recently, while catching up on news from home, I came across this story outlining a plan to make camel meat a household staple in Australia. Apparently there are a million camels running feral in the outback, so the Camel Industry Association has started promoting camel burgers, sausages, steaks and pet meat in the hopes it will become a nationwide demand.

Of course there will be controversy around the move, just as there is/was for the kangaroos, but as I read the article I couldn’t help but think “is this an Australian thing?” Are we adopting an eat-your-problems-away attitude towards animals in Australia?

With rabbits, kangaroos and now camels on the menu, I can’t help but wonder what will be next. Indian Minas are a problem, with the tiny birds edging out our native species, and then there’s feral cats and dogs to consider as well. I’m curious to see how far we can take this eating solution trend before it gets out of hand…

Now, what about a hearty cane toad stew?

What I’ve realised is that other actors can be jealous, selfish, judgmental people who welcome their fellow actors with crocodile smiles (and I’m from Australia so I know a croc when I see one). I’ve talked about this with a few people here, and it’s not just me who sees it – another actress from overseas has said the same thing, and local actors have said they don’t bother trying to make friends at the risk of being stabbed in the back.

The thing is, this isn’t a localised thing. When I think about it, a lot of the actors I have met have sported friendly masks that take a lot of effort to maintain (lest they become transparent). It makes me wonder what happened to them. How did they become so close-minded? And where are the actors who value community, collaboration and support from their peers? Is jealousy the root of all this false friendliness?

My second month here, I met an actress from Australia who, desperate for work, first rudely interrupted my casual conversation with a writer, then later approached me to interrogate me about my direction. How long had I been in Vancouver? What classes was I taking? Why wasn’t I taking classes? Where did I go to acting school? How long was my degree? What other training did I have? Did I have an agent yet?

It was overwhelming, but I managed to answer all of those question and I was happy with my answers. She, on the other hand, was not. She went on to tell me I would never make it here unless I did classes, carefully approached agents and, oh, lost my accent. According to her I would never make it with my accent. So far I have had doors (literal and metaphorical) open for me, partly because of my accent. Sure, in an audition I’ll happily switch to an American/Canadian accent, but in real life? I’m not going to lie about myself.

So when this interrogative, negative actress suggested I contact her for “help and advice”, I politely declined the offer. Who needs that kind of unsupportive discourse? The actors I am friends with are people who share their dreams and support one another before and after auditions, rehearsals, screenings and performances. Not people who try to drown out your dreams with snide questions and subtle insults.

A friend of mine here has explained all this by saying that some actors are so competitive, and so insecure, that they can’t help but backstab other actors who seem more confident or comfortable with their abilities and actions. But do they think some actor they meet once, in a city with thousands of actors, is going to come in out of the blue and steal all their roles, despite having a completely different look, personality and life experience?

If all the world’s a stage, why can’t we share it? Maybe, at least to these actors, all the world isn’t a stage. But if that’s the case do they really think it is better to live in a staged world?

The sunrise from the plane en route to Vancouver

I used to stare up at the stars twinkling out window of my bedroom when I was younger, and when planes went past I would think ‘that will be me, one day’. The idea of travelling has stayed with me since then, and finally I’ve taken the opportunity to go overseas in search of something different.

In the lead up to my departure, a lot of people kept asking me “why Canada?” as if it were an unlikely choice. The standard response was that I’m an actor and I want to go where there is a different creative culture to that of Australia. To experience my industry/ies somewhere else. But another part of my decision was based on how friendly I had found the Canadians I’d met, and how much I could relate to them.

As soon as I got on the plane, alongside my sister, I found more Canadians to reaffirm my perspective, and that set the trend from there on in.

I’ve started out in Toronto and will visit a few cities on the east before my sister and I settle into life in Vancouver. I hope to update this blog more regularly with interesting things as they come along.