Show Your Working: Kylie Maslen

In terms of drafting, because—like so many writers—I hate Word with a quiet fury, I usually do my early drafts in Pages, which is a much cleaner program. I do all my editing in hard copy, printing double-spaced and marking up in pencil. I rely a lot on doing structural edits on paper too, and I think almost every chapter of the book was made by printing out the vignettes and sections I’d written, cutting them out, moving their order around on my bed, stapling things together, scribbling all over them, and then bringing those back to my desk. Once I’m ready to send work to an editor—whether it’s a feature, review or for the book—that’s when I’ll export it to Word and then succumb to Microsoft’s busyness.

Describe your writing practice?

My writing days are very routine by necessity, punctuated by cups of tea, Pomodoro alarms and my pelvis. I’m usually at my desk around 9:15–9:30 having had breakfast and my first cup of tea. The second cup is the most crucial of the day and I do not pretend to be able to do any writing until that has been consumed. I can’t drink coffee anymore and need to be conscious of my caffeine intake as a trigger for my hypomania and anxiety, so I cherish every single cup of earl grey as a precious gift that fuels my days. I drink that second cup while I clear my emails and do small admin tasks. People With Disabilities Australia sends out a daily newsletter and I’ve been reading that quite closely recently as it’s helping to inform my second book, which I’m currently in the research and development phase of.

I think almost every chapter was made by printing out the vignettes and sections I’d written, cutting them out, moving their order around on my bed and scribbling all over them.

By 10am I’ve made the third cup of tea and I’m ready to start 3-4 hours of Pomodoro timers (a system where you work for 25 minutes uninterrupted, then break for 5 minutes). I use those breaks to stretch, warm my heatpack, quickly check my phone or just stand by the balcony door and dead-eye stare out at the world. By 1 or 2pm I’m usually in a good place to be able to stop for lunch, where I’ll watch a few innings of baseball, a quarter of basketball or something on YouTube to relax my brain. I rarely write again in the afternoons. Sometimes I’ll edit—especially if I’ve written a feature in the morning—and sometimes I’ll do some low-energy tasks.

During the writing of Show Me Where It Hurts I often got disgruntled with myself at not being able to push through and work in the afternoons when deadlines were screaming at me internally. But these hours were often spent watching TV or films that were referenced in the book so it was still really valuable time. Afternoons are also where I try to schedule all of the various appointments with my medical team so sometimes my schedule is dictated in that way. In an ideal world by 4pm I’m either on my way to the beach to swim and read in the sun, having a hot magnesium bath whilst listening to a podcast in winter, or going for a gentle walk—all the things that help soothe my brain and my body. I’ll sometimes read ‘after hours’, particularly on weekends while the footy is on in the background, but I try to stick to the same work hours that I have when I’m at my other job (currently two days a week).

I don’t really have the luxury of having writers’ block. Because there are so many days where I can’t write at all, I don’t worry about flow in the drafting stage, I just think about getting words on the page.

How do you encourage inspiration to strike?

Similarly to writing peers who have children, I don’t really have the luxury of having writers’ block. Because there are so many days where I can’t write at all, or I’m so distracted or fogged by pain the words that I have managed to get down need a lot of work, when I’m at my desk I’m working. I think the disjointed way I write long-form stuff also helps. I don’t worry about flow in the drafting stage, I just think about getting words on the page.

I’m a big note taker too. If I think of something useful I’ll scribble it on a scrap piece of paper, or in my notebook, or sometimes in the notes app on my phone (though many things have gone forgotten in that deep well). My concentration and short term memory often play victim to my mental illness and chronic pain, so if I don’t write it down it’s not coming back. These scraps often make it easy to have somewhere to pick up the next day.

Show Me Where It Hurts is available now at your local independent bookseller.

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