A Room of One’s Own: A conversation between Courtney Sina Meredith and Emilie Zoey Baker

For the second year running, EWF are dedicating a whole day to women in writing. Featuring panels, workshops and performance, A Room of One’s Own will invite inspiring ladies of literature to discuss topics such as diversity in publishing, Impostor Syndrome, pitching and grant applications.

Ahead of June 17th, we’ve asked opening keynote speaker Courtney Sina Meredith and closing performer Emilie Zoey Baker to interview each other about poetry, feminism and well, whatever they like.

Courtney Sina Meredith launched her first book of poetry, Brown Girls in Bright Red Lipstick, at the 2012 Frankfurt Book Fair. Her first book of short stories Tail of the Taniwha will be released in 2016. Her play Rushing Dolls won a number of awards, and was published by Playmarket in 2012.  She was the Bleibtreu Berlin writer in residence 2011, a delegate to London for the British Council in 2012, and a guest of the BBC to the House of Lords in 2014. Her poetry and prose have been translated into Italian, German, Dutch, French, Spanish and Bahasa Indonesia.

Emilie Zoey Baker is an award-winning poet and spoken-word performer who has toured internationally. She was the winner of the 2010 Berlin International Literature Festival’s poetry slam and she performs regularly at arts and literature festivals round the world.

E: So, something that struck me immediately about your work is a very down to earth respect for your lineage. I wonder how that came about, if it was something you decided to make important or whether it was always taught as being important?

C: Look I know lots of people say this, but I really did have the most brilliant childhood, it was just my mother and I across flats in Auckland. We lived with all kinds of artists, musicians, academics and creatives – she was the one who really got me into poetry, and at a very young age. I was writing all kinds of crazy poems from when I was only four or five years old: love notes about ants, star framed stanzas about the moon, tissues that I’d written on with felt tips – soaked in cold water and left to dry on top of the washing machine. Naturally, I’ve brought the bond with my mother into my writing and it’s overflowed into how I operate professionally, how I teach, how I mentor, how I negotiate and so on. I work from the heart.

I lost my maternal grandmother when I was only 6 years old and she was absolutely the love of my life. I have beautiful memories of her surprising me with traffic light cakes – layered green, red and yellow, building huts in the lounge, taking bus rides into the city and chewing on rainbow gum together. I can still feel the soft skin on the inside of her arms, I can still see her laughing after I requested blue jelly for breakfast. She made me feel ridiculously treasured.

It was important in my early works to honour my mother and my grandmother, it was also beyond my comprehension as to why such a stagnant and one-dimensional view of Pasifika women was the norm. I don’t feel the same responsibility to be as prescriptive with new projects – I’ve got a book of short stories coming out in August and the stories are very abstract, open to interpretation, grappling with endings, snapshots of failed relationships, and so on. The writing process wasn’t about proclaiming strong, free and wild wahine toa, it was more like running alongside different ideas sketching a path out of words.

How about you Emilie, I’d love to know more about where your voice comes from and what it’s made of? I was at an exhibition opening last night, and someone turned to a friend of mine and said, ‘What’s it like to meet you?’

E: Wow, there’s a question! I think I’d have said; loud. I must remember that for parties. I love the way you described your grandmother, I’m currently writing about mine too but I have a very different experience. The collection is called ‘Racist Bigoted Poems About The Weather’ which might give you some idea of our relationship. She now has dementia so she’s forgotten she’s racist, she’s also forgotten who I am and it’s finally nice to spend time with her.

I think my voice is a collage of non fiction and pop culture. I am a big history nerd and lately have been working on a collection of funerals for people that did amazing things but died without honour. It breaks my heart that Herman Melville passed alone in a hovel with no idea that in the future Moby Dick is a masterpiece. It hurts me that Tesla died knowing his pure electric heart was stolen and turned into a machine. The incredible deaf women at Harvard University that secretly mapped the stars, changing science forever.  I want to send them a message back through time, telling them that we love them, that they helped change the world and shape culture. I want to write a eulogy for Copernicus who was locked up by the Catholic Church and labelled a sinner. I want to assure him he was right and they were all wrong. To all those women burned and drowned for having knowledge of nature, I want to send them a secret postcard to say we hear you and we are so, so sorry. I want to tell them all they were made of stars and bits of uncut galaxies, that every one of them was special.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about genetics, how we’re all connected and I’d love to do some research into that one day.

Speaking of research, how do you approach your work? Do you do like to study or does it come more from your heart? I like to read a little Rumi or something for my poetic foreplay. How do you get inspired to sit at the desk and write?

C: I wonder if it’s a sign of the times, my grandfathers are/ were (one is no longer with us) pretty racist and sexist and homophobic. I won’t bore you with all the ways ‘lining x y z people up and shooting them’ is seemingly the answer to all of our troubles today, I’m just gently patting your hand through the computer with a look of, oh yeah, I know what you’re on about.

I hear ya on the uncut galaxies and wanting so much to acknowledge people, all kinds of people, who have gone before. If we were at a bar with yummy wine (both being extremely loud I imagine, ha!) I would unfold an entirely different narrative with you. I’m a bit of a mystic myself and always looking for meaning, or perhaps, meaning is the wrong word – justice? I like your take on poetic foreplay and Rumi is an excellent choice… When I was younger I would go into libraries and just feed. Gorging on all sorts – philosophy, cook books, self-help, monologues, as many Victorian poets as my arms could carry. Things changed over the years, I wrote most of my latest book listening to The National, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, Fleetwood Mac, bursts of London Grammar and of course Thom Yorke’s haunting, open wound vocals. I hear the music in the beginning, the first few songs and then it’s not so much white noise, but like I’ve crossed a meditative bridge and on the other side is a version of myself that can quite happily sit huddled over my Mac for long periods of time without breaking concentration. This is me delving into prose though and trying to condense inarticulate truths, sort of like wrapping cloth around vapour. When I’m writing poems it’s different, I wrote most of my first book of poetry on foot, at parties, in bed hung over, in toilet cubicles at gigs, across my arms with cheap mascara. In the last few years, I’ve written a lot of work on site, overseas, right in the belly of the beast. And other times, there’s absolutely no sparkle, no moleskins, just a very real deadline and a sense of duty to complete something within a given timeframe. The research aspect is pretty important but in different places I guess, it depends on what I’m trying to say and there’s always a sense of wanting people to not ‘feel’ the research, it should be seamless within the body of the work (ideally).

And now I’m going to selfishly deviate: tell me about one of your favourite moments on stage, where were you, who were you talking to, what did the moment feel like?

E: I’d REALLY like to see a poem written in cheap mascara. I can’t even get the stuff evenly on my eyes, can’t imagine trying to write poetry with it. Consider it a new mission.

To answer your question (and I want to ask you EXACTLY THE SAME THING OMG.)

My friends ‘The Boon Companions’ throw these amazing art parties. Well, they are kind of parties and kind of ‘happenings’ part performance, part workshop, part immersive theatre and alot dancing. Each party has a different theme and a few months ago they did a 1973 feminist march. Everyone dressed up full 70’s fem, there were famous speeches performed through the night, a sit in, vagina modeling, yoni-yoga and zine making. There was also a dance floor that went crazy! By the end of the night everyone was ripping off his or her clothes (and a couple of woman burnt their bras to woops and hollers.)

To close the event I was asked to perform Julia Gillard’s misogyny speech. I was SO EXCITED and collaborated with the ‘Ladychoir’ who played the part of the senate. (Singing ‘order, order!’)