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Seven questions for Caroline Lee

JA June 23

Caroline Lee has worked as a writer, performer and editor. Her play The Three Interiors of Lola Strong premiered at fortyfivedownstairs in 2003, and she has also appeared in Small Metal Objects with Back to Back Theatre, Black at the Malthouse and in Harold Pinter’s A Kind of Alaska with the STC. Meanjin has been serialising her novel, Stripped, since 2008, with the final extract appearing in the current June edition. Spike sat down with her across the digital divide to find out just how she manages it all, and how acting and writing can sometimes go hand-in-hand.



The final extract of your novel, Stripped, has just been published in the June Meanjin – can you tell us where the idea for the story and the characters first came from?

In 2003 I participated in a writing workshop with Jenny Kemp, who is a wonderful writer and director who works predominantly in the theatre. She periodically holds week-long generative writing workshops which are inspired by the writing exercises of Maria Irene Fornes. The workshop is structured to provide exercises, stimuli and a creative space in which to allow writing to flow. Earlier that year I had completed writing and then performed my one-woman play The Three Interiors of Lola Strong, which was a major work and I had serious doubts as to whether I had any more stories left to tell. I feared that Lola was the ‘one novel’ (even though it is a play) that everybody is supposed to have in them, and that I wouldn’t be able to write anything else.

Much to my surprise however, the moment I started the workshop the world of Stripped began to emerge: the streets of Melbourne at night, the strip club, the sisters who have a complicated relationship, the journalist who loves sex but hates women, the magical realist elements, and the exploration of death.

Two particular images I remember using in the workshop were the image of a bare-breasted woman on some sort of stage, who looked to be of Eastern European origin. This picture was in black and white and quite powerful in its juxtaposition of glamour and tawdriness. The other image was two pictures of two sisters, again who looked to be of European origin, and under the images was simply written “Before” and “After.”

So even though I thought that I’d said it all, by the end of the week I realised that in fact I had a whole new line of thought that was wanting to emerge: that of the scope of a person’s life, what they think they are going to do with their life when they’re in their early twenties and how things may actually turn out. I also realised that I still needed and wanted to do some more exploring into the issue of death and what impact it has on people who face it and the people who go through this with them.

How does your work as a performer and an editor feed into your fiction? Is it a help or a hindrance?

I think my experience as a performer has given me exposure and a kind of bodily experience of a very wide variety of different texts and forms of writing. I think it has therefore given me a deeper understanding of the rhythm of texts, their structure, and their characters: how they are created, how they work, and their psychology, and also how character and story intersect. In relation to telling a story I have been heavily influenced by people who work in the theatre, especially Peter Brook, Harold Pinter, and Ann Bogart. Peter Brook’s book The Empty Space discusses the importance of asking and answering the question, ‘Why am I telling this story now.’ Answering this question has been and continues to be a crucial part of my creative process.

As far as editing is concerned, I think my training and experience have made me more rigorous and disciplined. I think my understanding and confidence with the nuts and bolts of writing and language and grammar has become more fine-tuned and more refined, however I’m conscious that this process should never stop. There is always more to learn about one’s craft.

What’s a typical day spent writing like for you? Can you describe your routine?

Because I am a performer as well as a writer, the shape of my days vary enormously depending what I’m working on and whether I’m in rehearsal, performance or writing mode. However if I’m having a writing day I find it very helpful to give myself a set time-frame, so I’ll sit down from 9am to 12noon, or 10am to 1pm and then if I can also work in the afternoon, I’ll try to sit down from 2pm to 5pm.

In terms of the writing process I generally try to get whatever is in my head and my body onto the page first, without censorship or editing. Then I see what it is, try to work out what is emerging and then look at the structure, so I will make a plan of what it is that I’m writing, or figure out what scene I’m working on, or what idea or theme or character. Then I’ll write some more. Overall it works best for me to try and keep my imagination as free as possible initially and to keep the editing for later.

How do you get into the creative mindset? Heavy metal music, spoken word, herbal tea? A pile of books by the window?

My desk needs to be in order and the room I’m working in clear and clean and light. I don’t listen to music while I write. For me, it’s about space, both internal and external.

Writer’s block – does it happen and how do you get over it?

I haven’t really had problems with writer’s block. This is mostly I think because I’ve been in a position where my deadlines have been self-directed and any external deadlines have been for edited text rather than a new and fresh piece of work.

Naturally I have experienced resistance, inertia and sheer laziness, which is why the set periods of work as explained above are helpful to me. If I can’t seem to get something out, or if it’s very messy and confused I ask myself questions, often structural: what is this about? what is it really about? what’s at the core of this? why is this scene necessary? what does this feel like? what else is in the picture? what’s not being said? Those sorts of things help me sift and sort and may help me become clearer, at which point I can usually then write.

Do you keep a writer’s notebook? If so, can we take a peek – what’s something you jotted down recently?

I have all sorts of notebooks … I write things down everywhere, all the time, lists, thoughts, books, films, ideas, sentences, overheard words, observations and all sorts of other miscellaneous things. I actually do have a little designated ‘writers notebook’, but often it’s not handy, so the words will go anywhere. I also take photos of things I want to remember, even photographing other texts.

Recent notes:
“The ugly bedspread factor”
“Jason recliner rocker with holes in the arms rests for your stubby of beer.”

Finally, what was the last book that you loved, and why?

I recently read The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I loved it because of the way it is written, the form of its language and its use of images and pictures and fragments and poems and different forms of text. Also I identified immediately and completely with all the central characters of the story, Liesel, Hans, Rosa, Rudy and Max, and found their situations compelling and profoundly moving. I cried a lot, but didn’t feel manipulated, and really enjoyed the humour of the text too, it was light and true. I also loved the way in which the book was an advocate for books, reading, music, and art in general. It was very inspiring. I didn’t want it to end, and am sure I will re-read it in the future.


 

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