Post Varuna Feels

The long and arduous journey to Varuna the Writers’ House was not easy. I endured the challenge of walking through a twenty-minute labyrinth of inclines and turns, all while carrying three loads of luggage and listening to the blinding chirps of cicadas - it was worth it. I inhaled the fresh Katoomba air, and admired the perfectly manicured garden. The golden glow of the house would soon become my second home for the next few days.

Varuna the Writers’ House (Image credit: Nicole Cadelina (@ni.muy)

I remember the moment I received a call from WestWords producer James Roy, who asked me: ‘Were you the one who wrote about the racist Filipino?’ The work in question was my short film script titled FRESHIE, based on the colloquialism for ‘fresh off the boat’ migrants. I smirked, before answering ‘Yes, that’s me.’ He went on to inform me that I was one of four successful applicants who would be part of the WestWords Varuna Fellowship, a six-day residency program dedicated to supporting culturally and linguistically diverse writers in Western Sydney.

Having a week dedicated to writing felt like luxury, especially after settling into my new studio space in the Main Room, which looked too good to unpack into. I had the largest studio in the house, consisting of an en suite, a double bed, and two writing desks - one of which belonged to a separate studio space with a balcony view of the front garden. Being the youngest of the group, I assumed it was natural for WestWords to give me the biggest room, the same way a parent would spoil their youngest child. While I was already the ‘bunso’ (youngest child) at home, carrying that privilege felt even more freeing at Varuna (especially as I had no husband or child to worry about at home). Being a bunso in this second family meant indulging in more freedoms that I would not otherwise have at home - be it by getting wine drunk on a nightly basis, or perving at the neighbours’ shirtless tradies from my writer’s studio.

A studio room with a view! (Image credit: Nicole Cadelina (@ni.muy)

I carried my own anxieties prior to arriving at Varuna, having realised the all-female team of writers were well into their thirties. Our discussions on the first day helped me to connect with them. There was much to appreciate in terms of everyone’s craft - from mythology-inspired middle-grade fantasy, and young adult fiction set in the Blue Mountains, to a poetically inflective hybrid performance work. Two of these works would also feature Indigenous protagonists, one of which is Wiradjuri, and another Darug. WestWords associate producer Chris Donoghue would eventually join in on our retreat to consult specifically with two of our writers, Nicole and Libby, on writing Indigenous characters and nuanced approaches to cultural engagement in the arts.

I learnt to adjust to a daily routine of rigorous writing and planning by day, and sharing laughs and wisdom over glasses of sauvignon blanc by night. Samara, one of our other writers (and whom I dub the ‘mum friend’ of the group), would stoke up the fireplace while we waited for Sheila, Varuna’s house cook, to reward us every night with her signature dishes. From baked barramundi and roast chicken, to mixed berry crumble and dark chocolate pears - her culinary expertise was a far cry from my burnt buttered toast and half-assed mi goreng back at home.

Roast chicken and veggies, a la Sheila (Image credit: Nicole Cadelina (@ni.muy)

Between hours upon hours of writing away in our studios, our mentor Wai Chim (The Surprising Power of a Good Dumpling) planned out reading sessions in the first two days, before holding individual consultations with our manuscripts. Wai’s mentoring contributed so much to my sh*tty first draft of a screenplay, discussing at great lengths on articulating Asian diaspora, migrant families, and the ‘freshie’ experience into my work. Her wisdom on creative control and industry professionalism is one I will forever carry with me in my future endeavours, especially in an age where the ‘self-made artist’ now permeates our digital feeds.

Every now and then, James would check in on our experience, sometimes overstaying his welcome to the point of joining us for our hearty dinners. Through all his dry dad jokes and anecdotes, his presence at dinner time took us a step closer to being part of a writer’s roundtable, a la The Hollywood Reporter. While we were mothers, students, teachers, and what-have-you’s in the real world, we would leave those labels behind at Varuna to become only writers alone. Nothing more, nothing less.

I knew I’d have to face reality again when my manager texted me on our last night, asking me if I could work a nine-hour shift on my day back. Sweeping the text under the rug, I wondered if it was time for me to resign from retail for good, and perhaps become my own self-made Phoebe Waller-Bridge or Jim Cummings in the new year…

‘You can’t edit a blank page.’ - Jodi Picoult (Image credit: Nicole Cadelina (@ni.muy)

I felt guilty for sleeping in the next morning, as Wai and Libby both left the house early during my deep slumber. Nonetheless, I carried on. I dropped an Oscar-winning speech in the guestbook, and said my final goodbyes to Samara and Nicole (the latter of whom was generous enough to drop me off at the station). I boarded on the BMT carriage and listened to the Frances Ha soundtrack as the train departed from Katoomba. For a moment, I embraced the rewarding feeling of letting go of everyday life to pursue my dreams - even for a few days.

This draft for FRESHIE I have breathed and written into this world is one I want to continue nurturing and drafting, hopefully for the big screen next year. I previously assumed Varuna was just a place for me to simply write a script away from home, feel accomplished for a brief moment, then return to the everyday like nothing had happened. However, Varuna became much more than that - connecting with women who were many years my senior matured and transformed me as a writer, sometimes to the point of challenging my own perspective about the arts. 

While there was never a sour moment at Varuna, I regret not experiencing the breadth of Katoomba life, considering that the famous Three Sisters is well within Varuna’s periphery. If anything, I also faced my own challenge of writing migrant characters as a second-generation Filipino, especially coming from a heavily migrant area where ‘freshie’ is a mere household term around suburban youths of colour. Six days felt too little for me. It would be a dream to stay a week longer to escape the throes of impatient customers at the check-outs.

Perhaps that was what Varuna taught me the most, in all its daytime quietude and springtime air. Not once in this residency did I wake up and saw retail as my dream job for the rest of my twenty-somethings - in fact, it made me realise my time as a retail assistant would probably be up soon. Varuna was as close as I’d ever get to living through this Rainer Maria Rilke quote - ‘if, when you wake up in the morning, you can think of nothing but writing...then you are a writer.’

I can only pray this won’t be my last time at Varuna.

Much love, Varuna x (Image credit: Nicole Cadelina (@ni.muy)

Thank you to James Roy and Chris Donoghue at WestWords for your generous support during our fellowship, and to Vera, Veechi, Amy, and Sheila at Varuna for making us feel welcome. And a special thanks to my beloved second family - Samara Lo, Nicole W. Lee, Libby Hyett, and our powerhouse of a mentor, Wai Chim.