Featured Writers

Short stories, features and poems from our writing community.

A preview of the work of Hariklia Heristanidis, a participant in the 2013 Writers Victoria mentorship program for writers from non-English speaking backgrounds.

headshot of Fatima Sehbai

A preview of the work of Fatima Sehbai, a participant in the 2013 Writers Victoria mentorship program for writers from non-English speaking backgrounds.

headshot of Beverly Almeida

A preview of the work of Beverly Almeida, a participant in the 2013 Writers Victoria mentorship program for writers from non-English speaking backgrounds.

Judith Sackville O’Donnell stood outside the art gallery, waiting. She had received a phone call from a man who claimed to be a producer wanting to make a docudrama of her book, 'The First Fagin: The True Story of Ikey Solomon'.

a picture of Bronwyn Lovell speaking passionately into a microphone, presumably at a slam poetry event

I always got really nervous before I went up on stage at poetry slams.

It took me a long time to memorise poems and, once I had, I could still let that nervousness get to me and I’d drop a line or two in the spotlight, or go blank.

I think neither the factual or fictional form of cinema can really claim to be more invested in the telling of truth than the other. Often filmmakers in both camps aspire in one way or another to do just that: tell the truth. For some filmmakers it is the point of filmmaking.

Writing a weekly newspaper column is at once the most joyful and the most challenging gig your average scribbler can hope for.

Joyful, because it comes with a readership and, let’s face it, every writer wants to be read. Short of being a bestselling author, there are few more privileged positions than being given a blank page each week and paid to fill it.

Jack Waghorn was one of five writers with disability who received an inaugural Write-ability Fellowship in 2013.

The Fellowships, a joint initiative of Writers Victoria and Arts Access Victoria, enabled Jack to work with mentor Bethanie Blanchard.

I grew up in the goldfields of central Victoria and for all my childhood years my family lived in a miner’s cottage. The metre-thick walls were stone and mud brick and the kitchen and wash-house were detached. We had open fires in the bedrooms, a chip-heater to warm the bathwater and a long-drop toilet outside.

My paternal grandparents lived in the same street – also in a miner’s cottage, a weatherboard with small rooms, tiny window panes, shiny brass doorknobs, a glassed-in verandah at the back that served as “the sleepout” and a two-roomed cellar underneath. There were many...

headshot of Clovis Mwamba

Clovis Mwamba writes about the refugee experience.