Show Your Working is a regular column exploring how writers get things done. In this instalment, we take a peek into the writing routine of author and Sweatshop general manager Winnie Dunn. Her debut novel, Dirt Poor Islanders, is out now.
Left: Winnie’s desk at home. Right: Winnie Dunn. Images: Supplied.
What does your workspace look like?
Rectangular cream splashback tiles. Salt rock lamp. Remnants of Greek yoghurt from breakfast I’m yet to wipe away from the fridge handle. A knife block with a sparkly cat sticker on the base. Clanky white gas stove top. Still-dripping dishes on a wire rack. Wilting basil plant. You can hear the whirling of the washing machine. I use my grey-laminate bench as a makeshift standing desk. Luckily, I’m not a stress eater…I do all my writing in the kitchen!
From ages five to twenty-five, I lived with seven siblings and my parents, along with ten aunts and ten uncles who would just randomly drop in for a feed. This meant there was constant tension in my childhood home for space and privacy. The biggest change in my workspace occurred in 2020 when I moved into a one-bedroom unit in south-west Sydney. With only my cat, Summer, for company, I now leave the lounge lights on, blast music in my headphones and tck tck tck away on the keyboard until blue light burns my retinas—huffing and puffing and groaning at myself.
My other desk is in Parramatta at Sweatshop Literacy Movement. Similar setup to my kitchen, just sitting down and directly across from award-winning author and Sweatshop’s founding director, Dr Michael Mohammed Ahmad.
Winnie’s desk at Sweatshop Literacy Movement. Image: Supplied.
Are you an analog or digital writer?
At first, by hand. A lot of chapters within Dirt Poor Islanders are heavily edited transcriptions of my rushed handwriting. My grandmother taught me how to paint on a ngatu, which is a type of cloth made of mulberry bark. Each strip is beaten down to thinness, collected and then placed together until the fibres create one long mat. My grandmother spread the ngatu over her front yard and, using black ink, illustrated the stories of our ancestors using shapes and symbols.
A lot of chapters within Dirt Poor Islanders are heavily edited transcriptions of my rushed handwriting.
The Latin word for text means woven. So, for me, both culturally and in literature, there’s something integral about the manual process of writing. Later, I’ll transcribe it to my computer.
What sort of software and hardware do you use to get your work done?
The first time I encountered Google Docs was when I was co-writing the playscript Sex, Drugs & Pork Rolls. I sat with the other writers on a round wooden table and was told to jump on a link sent to my email. Immediately a faux Word doc appeared in my browser with different coloured blinking cursors. Letters were forming and moving on the page without me typing! When I yelped, fellow co-writer, Shirley Le, explained how it was a live document where we could literally write together. I shook my head and exited my browser. ‘Bruh, no way. That’s like seeing me take a crap!’ I’ve stuck with Microsoft Word ever since. I’m a millennial. I just miss the paper clip guy.
Do you write in the morning or at night?
Since the events of 7 October, Palestinians along with broader Arab communities and its diasporas have been on my heart and mind. After months of protests and fundraisers, I started to feel a creeping and collective helplessness at the horrors I was (and still am) seeing on my screen day-in and day-out. It was then I asked fellow writer and friend, Meyrnah Khodr, to show me the practices of her faith. Not only did I want to emotionally and mentally stay connected to the just cause of helping to free Palestine, but I wanted to be spiritually connected as well. During this Ramadan, I’ve been getting up at around 5am for pre-dawn prayers. From our souls to our deeds…from the river to the sea…we must carry on for Palestine.
Dirt Poor Islanders incorporates talanoa, a Pasifika form of storytelling. How did you incorporate this oral storytelling tradition into the novel?
Talanoa (‘talk’ or ‘discussion’ in Fijian, Samoan and Tongan) is a Pacific Island form of dialogue that brings people together to share opposing views without any predetermined expectations for agreement. Talanoa participants set the parameters for their discussions: inclusion, reconciliation and mutual respect.
Dirt Poor Islanders is separated into four parts and each of those sections begins with a Tongan myth. Each myth is a reflection of the challenges Meadow Reed faces in her own life. I tried my best to contrast and juxtapose this ancient style of storytelling to the modern and unique vernacular of the Western suburbs in which I was born and raised. From twisted flower garlands to the tied-up laces on Nike TNs, it is my goal that readers learn from the wisdom of my people, who are not just from the South Pacific but also from the eclectic and vibrant streets of Western Sydney.
Images: Supplied.
You’ve mentored writers via Sweatshop to develop their writing into published books. What advice do you have for anyone embarking on a long-form project?
The most rewarding aspect of my work at Sweatshop is meeting a young, talented, hard-working critically conscious First Nations person or person of colour and working together for several years to witness the creation of their debut publication. Think of stunning first-time authors like Shirley Le, Sara M Saleh and upcoming debuts from Natalia Figueroa Barroso, Daniel Nour and Tyree Barnette. There is nothing more inspiring and uplifting than experiencing the tremendous impact that this journey has on a writer’s life, and by extension, the tremendous impact that the writer’s work will have on their friends, family and community, many who will finally feel seen in literature for the first time.
‘Good writing’ is not just a natural talent—it is a skill and craft.
The most demanding aspect of creating a long-form project is convincing ‘wannabe’ writers that ‘good writing’ is not just a natural talent—it is a skill and craft that a person can actually learn and develop over many years. To make things as easy and clear as possible for new writers, I often invite people to read ‘Bad Writer’ by Dr Michael Mohammed Ahmad before they begin their professional writing journey.
What’s your editing process like?
Often it’s sending a Word doc to my editors (Mohammed Ahmad, Vanessa Radnidge, Lee Moir and Sela Ahosivi-Atiola) and receiving their feedback via track changes. Sometimes, it’s reading aloud to trusted peers to obtain verbal suggestions on how to improve. Such processes remind me of talanoa. If you don’t have outside readers during the writing process, you’re not a real writer.
How do you navigate your various kinds of work?
Between writing, editing, project planning, administration emails, invoicing, interviews, Zoom meetings and social media posts, I often take time to wash the dishes, play with my cat, go for a walk or take a shower. In those breaks, I’ll often find a solution to a project problem while counting cracks in pavement or a clever sentence will float up in soap suds. Now, the real question is, did I ever stop working in those moments?
How do you encourage inspiration to strike?
When I’m lost or need spiritual guidance in my writing, I return to my mum. Like Meadow Reed in Dirt Poor Islanders, my own biological mother passed away from cancer when I was four. Fifteen years later, I discovered my birth mother’s diary in a box of her old things. It was written in 1995, the year I was born. With wide and curly handwriting my mother spoke to me from beyond the grave. ‘Little Bib’ she called me, the Western Sydney version of ‘Little Habib’. It was then I realised that my birth mother, Mafile’o Theresa Helen Dunn, was a writer who never got to share her story. So, while I was completing Dirt Poor Islanders, I spent a lot of time at my mother’s grave in Rookwood Cemetery. And, every now and again, she inspired me with a slight breeze that sounded like pen on paper.
What’s next for you?
I’ve been celebrating the launch of the book with friends near and dear. I’ll also be appearing at the Sydney Writers’ Festival in May.
Dirt Poor Islanders is out now via Hachette Australia.
