It’s always a pleasant surprise when someone takes your work mildly seriously. It’s an even bigger surprise when someone thinks that your skills can be developed, and they are willing to put their hand up and mentor you.
Early this year, I was selected as an emerging writer under Project: Incubate to develop a piece for the Sydney Review of Books. I was incredibly excited (and honoured) to have this opportunity. Working on my essay, which I eventually titled Kin and Kitchen, was a wonderful experience, but it wasn’t without its struggles. Writing about family history can be an incredibly personal and intimate thing. How much do you want to reveal? How much do you hide? How much do you want others to know? How much of the story is about yourself, and is the process of writing somehow cathartic for you? How much of the story is about your family, and is their approval or understanding you are trying to gain?
These are many difficult questions, and they aren’t always easy to answer.
I feel relieved to say that my piece was published (after a long, windy and emotional journey)! I’m also pleased it gained a lot of positive attention, mostly from friends and family, but also from a few of my admired lectures whom I encountered when studying at university.
In a strange way, projects like this prompt you to learn as much about other people as they do about yourself.
Many of those who read it have said many lovely things about this piece. Some commented on the way in which the magical realist style was harnessed. Others acknowledged the sophisticated and unexpected ways it dealt with stories of migration. A couple of people also pointed out the ways in which the essay could be improved and polished. To everyone who read it, commented, felt touched, or were prompted to offer a response, I say thank you. Sometimes you don’t know the impact that a piece of creaive work can have on others before it is out there in the world.
So, here it is again, the link to Kin and Kitchen where you can read the full essay on their website. It’s a bit about Peruvian Spirits, a bit about Polish Babcia’s, a bit about migration, and a bit about family cooking. And just in case you want a little prompt to click the link here is a short extract:
While Mum was keeping an eye out on me from the kitchen, I often found myself keeping an eye on her. I may have had full ownership of the driveway but the kitchen was my Mum’s domain. As our kitchen was a large space that opened up into the dining room, preparing the food was often a performance of sorts. Exquisite smells mixed with the sounds of frustrated clanging and running water. Variations of the same question (usually from me) about when dinner would be ready made me think that we were all participating in food preparation, even if this was far from the truth. Mum was a firm believer in ‘wash as you go’ and ‘clean as soon as you can.’ These maxims gave me good practice to carry into my adult life. I learned early on that for Mum, cooking with an absence of clanging meant an absence of enthusiasm, and also that tears before dinner were never a good sign. In a way, being in control of the kitchen was synonymous with being in control.
If you’ve made it this far in the blog post – congratulations! Please see the links posted below!
Please read some of the other essays from Project: Incubate and of course, peruse through the many wonderful essays on the Sydney Review of Books website.
Gabriella Florek 