Emerging Writers Series: Melanie Saward
“Culturally, fire is so important. Fire is life: fire cleans the Earth and heals the Earth. We talk a lot about cultural burns now because of bushfires, and so on. Fire is very, very powerful.”
Melanie Saward, a Bigambul and Wakka Wakka writer from Tulmur (Ipswich), has just released her debut novel Burn. This powerful, empathetic and gritty novel explores family, trauma and justice through the eyes of Andrew, a young Indigenous boy who is uprooted from Tasmania by his mum Linda and her new boyfriend Dave and taken to Bracken Ridge, an outer suburb of Brisbane.
While Linda struggles to care for Andrew and Dave alternately torments or ignores him, his dad Pete hasn’t been in contact with him for almost a year. Andrew is angry and lonely: his main comfort is a lighter which he flicks incessantly in his pocket – a secret power that only he can unleash. However, when a bushfire in his new hometown leaves a child in hospital, every student in Andrew’s school becomes a suspect in the police investigation. But Andrew knows he’ll be their first target – as his dad used to say, “the cops will come after the Blak kids first.”
We chatted with Mel about why good kids do bad things, the power of fire and what Country gives to her as a writer.
You've been working in publishing and editing for a long time, and now you're on the other side as the author. What's it been like seeing things from the author's point of view?
I've been on that other side for so long that I mostly knew what to expect, but there are still things you don’t account for. There’s been times that I've been frightened to open my edits up – even though you know the editors have the best intentions – but I was pleasantly surprised about how everything was a conversation. I felt like I still had so much control and there wasn't anything to fear. The suggestions from the editors have just made it such a rich book. I was always worried that Andrew wasn't going to be seen as having something to like about him because he's such a naughty kid, but I felt they were in love with him just as much as I was and wanted to help make sure that readers would love him too. Maybe not everyone will at the start, but they will definitely feel for him as they get to know him throughout the story.
I read that you’ve been crafting this novel since 2009, and it was twice shortlisted for the David Unaipon Award. Can you tell me a bit about your inspiration and journey to writing this book?
It actually started out as a short story. I did creative writing at QUT as an undergraduate student when I was in my mid 20s. I had to write a suite of short stories or the start of a novel. I was a bit intimidated by the novel as a form at that point, so I split it into three interconnected short stories. They centred around a kid – who was Andrew – throwing a rock at a bus window, then all the other stories were interlinked to Andrew’s story. When I got my grades back and at every consultation that final year, people said, it's good, but it's a novel, right? I heard that from my classmates and from Sarah Holland-Batt, who was my lecturer at the time. I did a mentorship with Anita Heiss and the year after I graduated, I did 20 Pages in 20 Minutes, which was an event at Brisbane Writers Festival where you could sit down with a publisher and get feedback on 20 pages of a manuscript. I've been tinkering around with it since then, and it would go back into the drawer, then it would come out again and I would send it off and see if I could get some feedback. I was getting very close to putting it in the bottom drawer for a while. Then I met Armelle from Affirm Press and everything changed.
Andrew is a kid who is going through a lot of difficulties with his family, school and his friends. Yet he’s smart, resourceful, spunky, and we meet him as both a child and a teenager. How did the voice of Andrew first come to you?
I started with Andrew as a teenager because that was where the short story was set. The motivation was just me trying to understand why teenage boys do bad stuff. You know, they do things like throw rocks and start fires and don't think about the consequences, or they seemingly don't understand the consequences – particularly when they come from a place where their parents are having trouble seeing outside their own grief and trauma and issues as well. I decided I wanted to get inside this kid's head. I went back further and wrote him as a younger child, because I knew it all had to come from there. The further I went, the more I had to stick with the young Andrew, because that was where the love for him came through, because all his hope and joy is in those parts.
I also was really inspired by Rocks in the Belly (2010) by Jon Bauer, which had a similar structure. I love when books from young people's points of view have all these things that the adult reader can see that maybe they can't see. That's why I loved the idea of going back into that younger child’s voice because you then start to understand what shapes Andrew as a character.
The story opens with a bushfire in the Brisbane suburb of Bracken Ridge which takes a life, and Andrew thinking he is responsible. We learn that this is history repeating for him. What is the power of fire for Andrew?
He doesn't know what the power is in the fire until the first fire he lights. He just does it to see what will happen, which is why kids do a lot of things. So he sets this big fire and his dad arrives. He gets into trouble, but he also gets that shining moment of his dad's attention, which is actually the thing that he's been craving.
It was interesting to me because, culturally, fire is so important. Fire is life: fire cleans the Earth and heals the Earth. We talk a lot about cultural burns now because of bushfires, and so on. Fire is very, very powerful. And I think Andrew sees that it's powerful, but he doesn't necessarily see it as powerful in the right kind of way at the start.
You have a really sharp eye for systems that let First Nations people down, including the justice, education and healthcare systems. Why was it important to you to give Andrew a hopeful ending?
Melissa Lucashenko gave a keynote speech to the First Nations Australia Writers Network (FNAWN) in 2018, and it was later published in Meanjin. This speech was about sovereign stories. The FNAWN is all blackfellas, so there was absolutely none of this speech that was changed or softened for white or non-Indigenous audiences. When I read that, it was like she was speaking directly to me because I was wrestling with the stories that I was telling and the weight of the responsibility of what I wanted to tell. I'd written this book, it'd been shortlisted for awards, and in the back of my head, I had always known that it would eventually get published: it wasn't if, it was when. And the weight of telling a story about a family like this, where the trauma is passed down and down and down, was heavy. I didn't know whether it was right for me to do it, and I was questioning whether there was a place for me to do this and what impact it would have.
Melissa talked about how she makes sure she writes characters that have beauty, power, humour and land. I think Andrew is beautiful, and I think he has humour, but in a previous draft of the story, he gets nothing in the end. I wondered why, whenever kids, particularly black kids, do something wrong, no one ever asks why? I think one of the reasons is that we can't imagine what it looks like if things change. So I wanted to show an example of a story that was all the things that could be true for someone like Andrew. If this is what can happen for Andrew – who is a kid who has done some shit, right? – then none of these kids in juvenile justice are beyond help. And maybe we shouldn't be filling our prisons with literal children, especially in Queensland, where the age has just gone down and punishment is harsher. I want us to hand justice back to our Elders. That's the way it was supposed to be in the first place.
Who are some writers you really admire?
I've been really privileged as the further I've gone through my writing journey, the more experienced Indigenous authors like Melissa Lucashenko, Tony Birch, Tara June Winch and Anita Heiss have all taken me under their wings in some way and reached out their hands. They've got the benefit of having been around for a while, so having their guidance as well as Melissa’s beautiful speech has had such an impact on me and my storytelling.
What does Country give to you as a writer?
I live in Tulmur (Ipswich) in Queensland, which is still a fairly urban centre. People often talk about how they have to go out bush or to the ocean to go on Country, but we have to remember that actually, where my house is is Country, where my backyard is is Country. So Country is everything: it's essential to my writing, to my practice. If you were my neighbour, you’d see me out in my yard, touching the trees and saying hello to them. When I plant them, I tell them it's a good place and I'll look after them. Having conversations with the local birds is really important, because then Country talks back. I get so much energy and fuel from that. I think it's really important also to say that I grew up not in the same way as Andrew, but we are pretty disconnected from our culture because of the legacy of colonisation. So what I mean when I speak to Country is that I do the best that I can with the knowledge that I have, which is not as extensive as we all wish it could be.
Your next book ‘Love Unleashed’ is coming out with Penguin next year from your Write It fellowship. Can you tell us a bit about this book and what’s next for you?
I went to New York when I finished my undergrad because I wanted to work in publishing and ended up picking up dog poo in a doggy daycare, and I always thought that was a really good story. So that’s where I started from. My novel is about a young Indigenous woman who wants to be an editor for the Paris Review and goes over to the US. It’s about how you can fall short of your dreams, but it’s still a bit different for a rom com. I like to push the boundaries a little bit. I grew up loving Anita Heiss and chick lit and could never understand why there wasn’t more of it. There's so many young urban blackfellas out there living life and dating and shopping and having good jobs. I’m deep in structural edits on that right now, and I'm also handing in my PhD on intersectional feminism and romantic comedy. There's also a book with Brooke Blurton coming out next year. It's a queer middle-grade rom com, which is so cute. I can't wait for people to read it.
Melanie Saward is a proud descendent of the Bigambul and Wakka Wakka peoples. She is a Tulmur (Ipswich) based writer, an associate lecturer in creative writing at QUT, and a PhD student. Melanie’s writing has been published in Flock – First Nations Stories, Kill Your Darlings, Overland, Scum Mag, and Verity La. She has been shortlisted for the Kuracca Prize and the David Unaipon Award and received highly commended mentions in the Boundless Indigenous Mentorship, the Harlequin First Nations Fellowship, and the Calibre Essay Prize.
Emily Riches is a writer and editor from Mullumbimby, currently living on Cammeraygal land (Sydney). She founded Aniko Press to bring passionate writers and curious readers together, discover new voices and create a space for creative community. You can get in touch at emily@anikopress.com.