Show Your Working is a regular column exploring how writers get things done. In this instalment, we peek into the writing routine of author, book critic and journalist Jessie Tu. Her latest novel, The Honeyeater, is out now.
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The Honeyeater follows the story of a budding literary translator. What was the inspiration behind the book?
Around the time I started writing this book, I was asking myself two questions: What does it mean to love something? And what is beauty? Because we tend to love beautiful things, right? I realised that it’s paying attention—the most under-recognised and underpaid skill. We all do it, but I think what we pay attention to is what really defines us. Within my own field of writing, I asked myself: Who are the most generous and undervalued practitioners? I think it’s the literary translators. Until recently, they were often not even acknowledged on the front cover—their work rendered invisible. Translation requires very close reading, which means translators pay the most attention to a text.
But I was also interested in the field because it can be the site for abuse of power. There’s a hypervaluation of whiteness—stories tend to be translated from an ‘exotic’ language into a dominant language like English. The world of translation served as the perfect platform for my own thought-processing around questions of power, whiteness and linguistic violence. Many BIPOC translators miss out on translation projects because publishers don’t think they’re equipped to translate into English. So it was ripe for a story that explores the ways individuals are taken advantage of.
What does your workspace look like?
More organised than it used to be. I also have my own office now, which means my work is given the gravitas and attention it needs to flourish. I share it with my partner, who is a musician, so I’m surrounded by keyboards and guitars. But that’s okay. I wish I had more desk space though.
I imagine that the ideal writing set-up would include my own library, with a window that looks out onto a garden—lots of greenery, blue sky—olive green furniture and a rug here and there. I really want a huge writing desk. I’m a total spreader!
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Are you an analog or digital writer?
Half-half. Although I have definitely written parts of my novels straight into the computer, I think my best work comes from longhand writing. I write best in my office on loose sheet pages. I try to keep my phone as far away as possible when I’m writing. I’m an analog native at heart, so this is easy for me to do.
I think my best work comes from longhand writing.
When I’m gathering information and doing research, it’s probably more on the computer. But if I’m watching a film for research purposes, then I use a pad to write my thoughts down. I keep a diary too, and that ensures I fulfil my daily obligations. I also often write down what I need to do on a piece of paper and then cross them off. That’s very satisfying.
What sort of software and hardware do you use to get your work done?
I use Pages and Notes on my Mac. That’s where all my notes reside. I then collate them into more organised documents.
Describe your writing practice?
In the mornings, I’m on the newsdesk for Women’s Agenda, a feminist publication that produces daily newsletters to subscribers on stories about women. In the afternoon, I work on my own writing—hopefully, it’ll always be a novel. Dividing my day like this suits me—I don’t think I can wake up and just go straight to writing my own stuff.
I write until the average workday concludes, and then I spend the evenings watching movies or reading a book. I don’t write at 2am (or 5am) like many writers I admire. I prioritise sleep and leisure too much. I used to have these grand dreams of being this world-famous writer who lived a gruelling creative life burdened by her genius. Now, I’m like, ‘Oh my god, I’m just another writer out of millions, and if I get one reader I am grateful.’ I also don’t care for being world famous anymore. I mean, my ego has definitely shrunk for the better. Who needs another writer who takes themselves too seriously?
Are you a plotter or a pantser?
I am a total non-planner. My first three books (I wrote one before the Honeyeater which wasn’t published) have been me just driving in the dark, not knowing where the story will take me. The fourth book, which I’m working on right now, is very different. I’m planning that meticulously and it’s so much fun.
Did you do any research in the writing of this book?
Yes, heaps! And it was sheer pleasure! I love reading translators’ notes. I’m obsessed with the intricacies of what they do. Thankfully, there are a few marvellous books out there about the work of literary translations. Not enough though.
The book is set between different cities. How did you go about capturing those different settings?
I’m a compulsive writer, so whenever I travel, I write. My diary is a form of ‘taking myself very seriously’, noting down everything I hear, smell, think and fear. It’s also a place where I can be utterly free and write however I feel. I find this incredibly liberating. So I used a lot of source material from my travel diaries.
I love reading translators’ notes. I’m obsessed with the intricacies of what they do.
As for Taiwan, I grew up in Chunghwa, a town about three hours south of Taipei, until I was about four. Then, after we emigrated to Australia, we visited my hometown every two or three years. I have a deep well of knowledge and memories from that part of the world. It’ll always be my home, I think, spiritually speaking.
I also used a lot of YouTube virtual walking tour videos to help me recall the sounds of the cities. The sounds a city emits are very important to me. Its rhythms, pulses, beats. Taiwan’s major cities are filled with so much cacophony. My favourite sound in the world is the blare of a Vespa speeding by. It brings me extraordinary comfort and joy.
What’s your editing process like?
I don’t show the early drafts to anyone because I’m porous and prefer not to let other people’s opinions cloud my judgement. I just read and re-read what I’ve written many times. Each time I revisit a piece of writing, it gets better because I’m always stripping off the excess parts of the material.
How do you navigate your various kinds of work?
I try to bring joy into any writing I’m doing, which is another way of saying I only write what brings me optimism and purpose. I’m very fortunate to be paid to write, and I don’t take this privilege for granted. Switching between writing a book review and writing my novel can take a few hours or a few days, depending on my mood. But, generally, this switch happens smoothly and without much restraint.
Has your writing practice changed since you wrote your debut, A Lonely Girl is a Dangerous Thing?
I think I’m much more diligent in just sitting down and getting the work down on the page. I don’t fret as much as I used to. I take my work seriously, which means that I attend to its development with more rigour and purpose.
How do you encourage inspiration to strike?
I haven’t really struggled with any blockage when it comes to writing a novel, but that’s only because I’m still in the early stages of my career. Maybe when I’m older I’ll struggle with finding things to say, but right now, I feel like I have so much to say. I’m inspired by questions and I’m always asking questions. You need to be curious to write a book.
What’s next for you?
I’ve been on tour around the country with The Honeyeater. Upcoming events include in-conversations in Sydney with author Kavita Bedford at Better Read Than Dead on 23 July and literary translator and writer Tiffany Tsao at Manly Library on 8 August.
I’m also working on a novel about three female filmmakers—it’s an excuse for me to watch a lot of movies, basically.
The Honeyeater is out now via Allen & Unwin.
