Show Your Working is a regular column exploring how writers get things done. In this instalment, we peek into the writing routine of award-winning author Melanie Cheng. Her latest novel, The Burrow, is out now.

Images: Supplied.
The Burrow is the story of family secrets—and a rabbit. How did this novel come about?
When I became a parent, I expected the responsibility, but I was completely unprepared for the vulnerability. I spent a lot of time imagining the various ways my children could die and even more time trying to prevent those worst-case scenarios. With The Burrow, I wanted to write towards my greatest fear and explore how a family that has suffered the loss of a child can not only survive but become receptive to moments of joy and wonder again. The inclusion of the rabbit was more intuitive than rational. My family had taken in a mini-lop rabbit during the pandemic, and he had brought us delight during a difficult time. I realised that a pet might be just the thing to help the Lee family find their way through grief.
What role did reading play in the writing of this book?
I’ve always loved novellas and short books. Favourites include Helen Garner’s The Children’s Bach, James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room and Sigrid Nunez’s The Friend. Short books benefit from the brutal editing of a short story writer (avoiding the saggy middle of a longer work) but allow more character development than a short story. It is the Goldilocks length for me!
I wanted to write towards my greatest fear.
The other obvious role that reading played in The Burrow is in the influence of the children’s classic Watership Down—a childhood favourite of mine. I’ve since learnt that Richard Adams had trouble finding a publisher because the manuscript was felt to be too adult for children and too childlike for adults, and I think this reflects that in-between stage of childhood that Lucie finds herself in, as well as the very adult experiences she is being forced to grapple with as a child.
What does your workspace look like?
I’m a cafe writer. If I’m at home, I find myself getting distracted by household chores or social media. In a cafe I feel more accountable and more time pressured. I like the background noise but don’t always love the loud phone conversations. I’ve also discovered that I work best with a hot drink at hand.

Image: Supplied.
As a parent, I spend a lot of time sitting around waiting and so I try to use these moments too. I will write in the car while I wait for my daughter to finish dance class, or I will write at a play centre while my son is having a birthday party.
Are you an analog or digital writer?
I’m terrible with technology (a true Gen Xer, I still have a Hotmail account), but when it comes to writing, I’m very digital. Notes are taken on the Notes app of my phone and all my writing is done on the laptop. I also have terrible handwriting (living up to the doctor stereotype here!).
With regards to organisation, I’m increasingly reliant on the Calendar app. But I have been known to turn up to kids’ birthday parties a day early, so it is by no means fail-safe!
What sort of software and hardware do you use to get your work done?
I’m very ‘no frills’. All I use is a Word document, and I only ever work with one version. This may seem risky, but I have faith in the rewrite. I don’t look back. I do, however, back up my work. I learnt that lesson the hard way when I spilt tea on my laptop and almost lost the entire manuscript for Australia Day! (The one time that I did not work best with a hot drink at hand.)
Describe your writing practice?
When my writing career took off, my children were young, and so I’ve never had the luxury of long stretches of time in which to write. I work part-time as a general practitioner, and nowadays it is during the one to two hours between finishing work and picking the kids up from school that I get the bulk of the work done. It takes me a while to write a book, and I write very short books, but I’m okay with that. Rushed writing is almost always bad writing, and a lot of the work of writing is thinking, which can be done anywhere—while you’re stacking the dishwasher or folding clothes or driving. In fact, it’s often during those moments that major scenes are formed or problems are solved.
It takes me a while to write a book, and I write very short books, but I’m okay with that.
As for the process itself, I am an intuitive writer and let my gut guide me. I might have a very rough idea of the framework, perhaps an idea of the ending, but I am not beholden to it. The greatest pleasure I derive from writing, and perhaps the main reason I do it, is the unpredictability—the great surprise of those subconscious connections and ideas that emerge through the act of putting words on paper.
What’s your editing process like?
I find writing the first draft extremely painful and actually love the process of rewriting and editing. When I was writing short stories, I would edit as I wrote, but I found this became impossible with a longer work. I will still do it, perhaps at the end of each chapter, but I have to restrain myself because that approach can affect the pace, consistency and momentum of a novel.
I complete this initial creation phase in complete isolation. Only when I feel utterly exhausted and find myself replacing words that I’ve just taken out will I finally put the work away. I may leave it for a week or a month and then come back to it with fresh eyes. If I’m happy with it at that point, then I will let others read it. Usually my agent, followed by my publisher. Those are some of the longest days, waiting to hear what they think!
How do you navigate your various kinds of work?
This is perhaps the most difficult juggle. There is a tendency to feel that you are doing many things but not doing any of them particularly well. For a while, I filled every moment that I wasn’t working at the clinic or doing stuff for the kids or the household, with writing, but now I realise the importance of rest and doing things for pure pleasure—reading that is not work-related, watching Netflix, playing the piano, listening to music or just lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

Has your writing practice changed over the years?
I think in the past my writing was a more constant pursuit—I was always working on a story to submit somewhere—whereas now the writing practice occurs in a kind of cycle: a thinking creative phase which lasts several months, a writing phase that lasts several years, an editing and collaborative phase, a publicity/promotion phase and a final rest phase.
How do you encourage inspiration to strike?
I think inspiration will strike at unexpected times. You can’t control it per se, but you can make yourself more receptive to it by facilitating moments of stillness—breaks from the noise of modern life. Then, when an idea does arrive, you need to be ready to capture it. Don’t assume you will remember it later because you won’t. Write it down so that when you are finally gifted a moment of peace, you’ll have your notes ready to go.
What’s next for you?
The Burrow came out in early October, and so I have a few publicity events coming up, including Words After Dark at Antipodes Bookshop & Gallery, the Balancing Writing with Life forum at Writers Victoria and the Queenscliffe Literary Festival.
The Burrow is out now via Text Publishing.