TAMARA DRAZIC

Tamara is an Australian writer based in Melbourne. In 2017, she was awarded a Gullkistan Residency for Creative People in Laugarvatn, Iceland, where she finished writing her first novel. Tamara's writing can be found in literary magazines such as Into the Void Magazine, Grouch Publishing, and in the debut issue of Vantage Point, a collaborative project by Bowen Street Press and The Lifted Brow.

All-Stars is Tamara's second appearance in PASTEL.

A recurring theme in your poetry is the agency of the feminine. In 'Not My Own', the voice is conscious of their subordination to an assumedly masculine domination; and similarly in 'Crunch', the voice halts to question their well-being in an intimate situation. In each piece, the voice seeks to reconnect with their power when their needs are ignored. How might you suggest your work speaks to those who've been made to meet another's needs at the expense of their own?

First of all, thank you so much for including me in this fantastic PASProject.

I never set out to achieve a certain effect on the reader. All my poems start off as seemingly insignificant thoughts scribbled down for later reference. Until I’m about to submit a poem, I don’t think deeply about its reception. My poetry doesn’t have one key agenda.

I’ve always been interested in the post-structuralist idea of language being unstable. There can’t be one true meaning because every reader has a different set of experiences and connotations that inform their understanding of the words.

Now, to get back to your actual question…

I would hope that my poems give readers a sense of kindredness. Poetry has a way to make its readers feel understood. I think this feeling could come from the fact that the reader completes the poem themselves. Their interpretation forms the meaning, slotting the last piece into place. My favourite thing about poetry is that readers only take what they need or want from it.

Your contribution to All-Stars, 'Don’t Tell', captures a scene steeped in shame, and insinuates a power shift in such a deliciously dramatic fashion, one might read this as a scene directly out of a prime-time soap drama. From where does 'Don’t Tell's story spring from... and what might be being kept secret?

'Don’t Tell' grew from a couple of different stories, some with secrets that are not mine to share. Like I said earlier, I rarely set out to write meaning into a poem. To be honest, I don’t understand my poetry until I’ve written the first draft in a stream-of-consciousness fashion. Then I draw my own meaning from it and edit it to pretend that was the aim all along.

For me, “Don’t Tell” is about the shame that hangs on long after the shameful act. The second-person point of view implies that someone is watching the protagonist. Rather than that being an external character, however, I see the speaker as being the protagonist in the present day, watching themselves go through this shameful experience in retrospect. The poem, for me, is about reliving a shameful act in excruciating detail, to the point where the line between true and imagined details is blurred.

The secret is in the shameful act that the smashed wine glass symbolises. I’m going to leave it at that.

Last year, you travelled to Iceland to complete work on an extended manuscript. How did experiencing beautiful Reykjavik and it surrounds affect the development of the piece, and did you find new themes and considerations slipping into the construction of the work?

The residency in Iceland completely changed the way I write in a practical sense. I think this is mainly because it forced me to get to know my weaknesses in great detail. I was writing for upwards of five hours a day, and was exposed to a lot of failures. The first draft of my manuscript was overwritten, excruciatingly awkward, underdeveloped, clunky, immature, meandering, and, for the lack of a better word, boring.

But this intense exposure to my flaws, without anywhere to hide, forced me to find a way to improve them. I have a theory (albeit not a very groundbreaking one) that the cause of writer’s block is one of two things: The writer feels like they aren’t good enough to write the story they want to write, and the writer knows there are problems in their work and is afraid they won’t be able to solve them.

The residency was located in a small town (population of 250) with no public transport. The physical lack of an escape from my problems forced me to sit down and solve them. As a result, I’m no longer afraid of problems in my work, and this has changed the way I write. I feel free to make vast, sweeping mistakes, knowing that they are not impossible to fix, no matter how bad they are.

As well as this, I see influences of the Icelandic landscape creeping into a lot of my work, particularly my latest manuscript, which I started in the middle of this year. I’m constantly trying to capture the quietness I experienced in Iceland in my writing. I think the quietness of the Icelandic countryside is what had the greatest impact on my work thematically.

Would you suggest the experience of travel is essential to the life of the artist and their practice?

Solo travel and isolation helped to shape the way I see my position in the world. I don’t feel that I can speak for all artists, but for me, travel is an essential part of the writing process because I need to put myself in vulnerable situations to gain a deeper understanding of myself, and of people in general.

As well as this, travel helps artists connect. Living in Australia, we are isolated from the rest of the world. While I was in Iceland, I read my work at a multilingual poetry festival in Hveragerði. Meeting writers from all over the world and hearing them read their poetry in their mother language is an experience I still think about daily, over a year later.

Prior to making your PASTEL debut in Issue Three, you published Spinebind, a literary magazine with an eye for a diversity of submissions. Where did the conception for Spinebind spring from?

I created Spinebind because I felt there was a lack of a paying market for young and emerging writers to get their work out there. I saw the great work that my peers were creating and I wanted to build a platform for that work to be seen.

I had been looking for opportunities to gain editorial experience at the time, and eventually decided to create the opportunity myself. I learned so much during Spinebind’s lifetime simply through the amount of work I was reading and editing, and I loved every minute of it.

How has Spinebind performed, in mind of your vision for the magazine? What have been the fears or challenges you've faced in doing your part to elevate Spinebind to the fullest of your vision?

Spinebind was always a one-woman passion project. I aimed to continue publishing it for one year, and see where it went from there. Over that year, I published many short stories and poems that may not have been read otherwise, and that was an incredible feeling.

When I learned I was going to Iceland, I made the difficult decision to stop publishing Spinebind issues until further notice. I think the magazine achieved the goals I set for it. Admittedly, I am not much of a marketing mogul, and, given more marketing expertise, I feel I could have reached more readers. Even so, the magazine reached a following, with hundreds of people checking the website regularly. I do hope that one day I can start up the magazine again. This time, I want to go into it with a budget and a detailed plan. The things you learn along the way!

In your entry into the publishing market, you opted for a paid print magazine, and a digital download alternative. Which medium proved more lucrative for the success of the magazine, and why do you believe that was?

I put great effort into the design and production of the print magazine; I wanted it to look professional and polished to do the writing justice. This seemed to be appreciated, as the buyers of the first issue tended to also buy the subsequent issues. The complete set contains four issues which complement each other. For this reason, I think the print form proved more lucrative for the magazine’s success because it stands the test of time. While the website is no longer being updated, the sold print sets are out there in the world to be read and enjoyed for as long as the binding permits.

What does independence mean to you, in both personal and creative senses?

I value my independence deeply. I used to avoid entering into certain things because I was afraid of losing my independence. Now I realise that people tend to need each other. In saying that, it’s very important for me to know that I can do things on my own, hence the solo travel and isolation. This compulsion to test myself has directly impacted my writing craft because it has forced me to rely on myself to solve problems, whether they’re in life or in writing.

What ways do you, as an artist and individual, assert your own agency in the face of societal subordination?

I assert my agency by educating myself and working hard. In the past, I felt that people didn’t take me seriously. But I’ve learned that people will have their implicit biases; things are easier if I believe that it’s none of my business what they think of me.

I think working hard to achieve my goals is going to do more to change these biases than talking about the biases will, as people tend to listen to actions more carefully than they listen to words. In saying that, I am coming from a privileged position and am only speaking to my own experience.

Where can PASPals enjoy more of your work?

PASPals can find more of my work in magazines like Vantage Point and issue One of Into the Void. They can also check out my Twitter (@drazicdiaries) and my website (tamaradrazic.com) where I post updates on my long-form work.

Thank you again so much for including me in this project!

To enjoy Tamara's All-Stars contribution, pick up a copy of PASTEL Magazine All-Stars at pastelthemagazine.bigcartel.com.