No, no, no! I am not giving up. I got distracted by doing an awesome creative writing course at the London School of Journalism, and received some wonderful feedback from my tutor which has encouraged me no end. Now, I've started the advanced course. This is going to be the magic one. Every week, we need to write at least 1000 words on a specified area, but the wordage must also relate to the book we want to write. If that makes sense. In short, in a couple of months' time, I'll have around 10,000 words written which can be used as a basis to get this bloody thing done.
The idea I'm working on is the vague one I've had for a while; I'm going to use the course as a way of exploring whether it can take on a life of its own, or whether it is just going to be another one of my crazy ideas.
But I thought, while I'm doing this course, I could always share some of my wordage... And so below is my first piece. This week's topic was setting; this is the view of Adelaide through my character's eyes. Let me know what you think! All words remain my intellectual property.
Setting: Adelaide
It’s like an oven. The sun beats down and burns you before it’s even reached your skin. It tingles. The beads of sweat live permanently on your forehead, little droplets of moisture desperately trying to keep you cool. They fail. It’s hot. Hot, hot, hot, hot, HOT. January in Adelaide is just stifling.
But there’s a pay-off. Clear blue sky – not a cloud to be seen – a beautiful cobalt colour that’s unlike any sky anywhere else. The sky as only Australia can do it. Sit on the sand, stare at the waves coming in, under the clear blue sky – only once the sun has lost its bite, though. Between 11 and 3, sit under a tree. Then, after work, drive down Anzac Highway, the wide promenade connecting city to sea, and in 20 minutes you’re at the beach. (Bless the “20 minute city” – nothing’s ever too far away.) Al fresco dining by the rolling waves. Cocktails on the sand. Walks to the end of the jetty, chatting to the late-night fisherman trying their luck in the darkness below. The beachside lifestyle – absolute perfection.
...and that’s all there is. Adelaide, South Australia. Beachside living. Lovely, as long as all you want to do is go to the beach. No career prospects to speak of. A close-minded population. Limited entertainment, particularly for teens and 20somethings. The reputation of a big country town is justified.
Adelaide is the kind of town kids are just itching to leave. You finish school; if you’re lucky, you go to university on the east coast, where people actually have a life. If not, you leave as soon as you have your degree in your hand. A lot will flock to Melbourne; closest “proper” city, even if it’s full of Victorians. Most will go travelling. See the world, do the London thing, then come home in their mid-20s ready to settle down and start a family. And so the cycle begins again. God, they marry so young in Adelaide. Mortgage, marriage and babies before you’re 28. It’s not a life for me.
It’s a town full of families and old people. It’s a town where you’ll see the same faces at the same clubs and bars every Friday and Saturday night – and of course, there’s no going out on a school night. Out for dinner on a Wednesday? Best be home by 9pm; I’ve got work tomorrow. The disenfranchised yoof hang out at the malls, creating a ruckus, mainly because there’s nothing else for them to do. The underage drinkers hoon around in their V8s as soon as they get their license, stealing traffic cones and setting up impromptu street blocks all over town. After all, what else is there to do?
Once a year, Adelaide comes alive. It used to be when the Grand Prix came to town, but Melbourne stole that from us back in the mid-90s – they’re prone to doing that, taking whatever is good and claiming it as their own. But then, that statement could be a result of the all-permeating inferiority complex that hangs in the air. It’s almost like it’s pumped into the water, along with the fluoride and calcium that makes the water so tasty – we can’t possibly have an optimistic population, so let’s have a paranoid one. I wouldn’t put it past this state government. Bunch of facist wankers, and no one ever seems to be able to vote them out. I’m sure they’re on the fiddle...
But anyways, back to the good points. Every March, Adelaide feels like an actual proper city. It’s when the arts festivals come to town; naturally, the government moved all the other big social events to also happen in March, therefore giving overload during that month and an overwhelming underload for the rest of the year. If it’s not March, a concert by Bryan Adams is the height of the social calendar. In March, there’s the Adelaide Festival of the Arts, the Adelaide Fringe – second only to Edinburgh in size - and Womadelaide. Add in the big car race and the horse race, and you’ve got yourself a city in the sun. And then 1 April comes, and it’s back to tea and biscuits with gran.
Actually, that is a rather fitting description of Adelaide, “city of churches”. Once a hugely progressive place – second in the world to give women the vote, no less – it’s turned inward with inferiority since a massive banking collapse in the 1980s. No longer progressive in any way, it’s a city which considers it a great thing to be building a business around the conference industry. I would call it the Birmingham of Australia, but nothing is ever that bad. At least Adelaide is beautiful. It really is. The sea on one side, the lush green hills on the other. At least the hills stay green; water restrictions these days – did I mention the dwindling water supply? Oh yes, we’re running out of water – mean that suburban gardens are generally brown and decaying. But then, there’s an ever-expanding wine industry just an hour away – think Barossa Valley, Clare Valley, McLaren Vale – no mention of how they water the grapes on a regular basis. Bores?
The wine and the arts do give Adelaide a slight pretention. It’s an odd mix – redneck wonderland, and yet arty and pretentious. The only non-convict settlement in Australia – and that’s something we’ll tell you at every opportunity – Adelaide does have some wonderful old buildings and a heck of a lot of churches. The Torrens River runs through the northern part of the city centre, with the Festival Theatre’s white angular rooves on one bank and the Adelaide Oval and Memorial Drive Tennis Centre on the other. St Peter’s magnificent cathedral is at the “cathedral end” of the oval (so dubbed by the incredibly inventive cricket commentators), overlooking the city centre just at the foot of the slight hill which heads to the ‘burbs. Our one proper big tall building dwarfs the rest of them, and the entire city centre is contained within one square mile. A mall in the northern part of that square mile contains the iconic “mall’s balls” – two giant mirrored spheres, a marvel of modern art, again showing the artier side of the population.
I’ll always be one to defend Adelaide. I stayed while others left. I made myself a career – or attempted to. But, like most career attempts in Adelaide, I hit a brick wall in my mid-20s. Just as all of my graduating class’s travellers returned for the three Ms – mortgage, marriage and minions – I’m leaving. I can’t handle it anymore. Too many bad memories; too many skeletons; too many ghosts hiding around every corner. No, what I need is a fresh start. An innovative perspective. A new life. The question is: where can I get it?
It makes me very sad that you see Adelaide in that dim light.
ReplyDeleteNot me, Sa. The character. Tis part of fiction. I know many who do see Adelaide that way, and have channeled them. You know I love it! Would just rather live in London!!
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