Last year, one of the sessions I covered at University for my Masters program was Creative Nonfiction. For those not familiar with the term, Sondra Perl and Mimi Schwarz define it best in their book Writing True: Creative Nonfiction is a new name for an old impulse: to write about the real world with grace, power, and personal commitment … It’s about having the legitimacy to say: “Here’s my point of view. Here’s how I see my world.”
As a freelance copy and content writer, I write about the real world all the time – but not so much on a personal level. In my fiction, my perspective may slip through in the thoughts, dialogue and actions of my characters, but readers wouldn’t know that.
A new name for an old impulse. The impulse was certainly there, although inhibited; as can be my writing at times if I start peeling off the layers (I am working on this).
I wrote several pieces for assignments last year, and found that the more I delved into the different aspects of Creative Nonfiction, the more I felt like I was exploring something of value to myself and my writing. Applying the narrative techniques of fiction to works of nonfiction is a wonderfully challenging, personal experience, and I encourage writers of any level to have a crack.
I had one of my pieces, Brave New World, published in Issue 6 of The Quarry Journal. It’s a combination of theme and place, drawing on self exploration during a transitional period in my life. The setting is one of my favourite places on the Mornington Peninsula. The Briars in Mount Martha comprises 220 hectares of wetlands, woodlands, bush walking tracks, and a historic National Trust listed Homestead that once belonged to the Balcombe Family who farmed the region of from 1846.
If you would like to read it, click here: http://thequarryjournal.com/brave-new-world-rebecca-fraser/
I’m happy to say that forty is a good place. I made it through my turbulent teens and twenties. They weren’t that different from anyone elses, I suppose. The usual roller coaster of ups, downs, triumphs, tragedies, love, laughter, heartbreak and happiness. My thirties were a decade of self-examination and ‘feet finding’ in the new, stable environment that had been created by joining my life with supportive, caring, hardworking Steve’s, and the joy, love and terror of motherhood.
I’m supposed to be older and wiser. I think that I am. I still have a lot to learn, explore and develop in many areas of my life. But I am happy – and I declare that my definition of success for now.
Happy writing, happy reading and, of course, happy days 🙂