WRITE ON
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Brianna 2023 and Jess 2004

End of a Book

00:00 / 00:35

End of a Book

by Brianna

I have become a character in a book -

not an important one, just the girl on the bus

and the protagonist never notices

I’m here, waiting to be understood

I’m here in the morning crowd

in my seat on the bus

looking at photos of their party

I didn’t attend.

For one fleeting moment, they see me

have a profound thought (about something or other)

Then they’re talking to someone else

Everyone knows I’m not in

this sequel. So I sit

plotting my fanfic

Brianna loves to write fantasy. She is in the middle of competing in the Brain Bee neuroscience competition and dreams of being a computational neuroscientist and a published author.

End of a Chapter

by Jess

I have become a character in a book -

imagery so clear I can see myself

And the girl I thought I knew

chooses to walk away

Abruptly the page is ripped

My fragile paper torn by shallow innocence

when I thought

we would be friends.

For one fleeting moment I must have been mistaken

this book for a Fairy tale.

I know I cannot re write

this passage. So I sit

cursing the author.

first published in Write On 2004

The Interview

Brianna: What do you remember from your days at The School for Young Writers and/ or being published in Write On magazine?

Jess: I remember Saturday mornings at the Arts Centre, it always felt so cool to be in the big, old buildings. There was always a Saturday morning market on and we would often go and observe and write about the people we saw. I remember having some amazing tutors including Apirana Taylor and the wonderful Frankie McMillan. Frankie helped me understand the importance of detail and imagery in writing.

Brianna: Which early experiences/opportunities/classes have influenced your writing the most?

Jess: Understanding the process of editing for publication, of re-drafting, and how to submit writing served me really well. Preparing submissions for Write On magazine, getting used to deadlines and having a taste of success but also building up tolerance for disappointment. Not everything we write is right for publication and I learnt that early on.

Brianna: How has your writing evolved over the years?

Jess: I have become more comfortable and open with sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings. I would like to think my ability to craft a metaphor has improved!

Brianna: What do you think makes poetry special?

Jess: For me, poetry is about describing our most profound feelings and experiences in a way that people can connect with, as simply and concisely as possible. Poetry is about finding the words and images for emotions. It doesn’t need to be complicated to be good; at the end of the day poetry is about feelings. I love that poetry can make the everyday extraordinary and find beauty in the most regular and routine moments.

Brianna: How do you know when a poem is finished/when to stop editing it?

Jess; Reading my poems out loud (to the dog) helps. I am listening for rhythm, for words that aren’t necessary. When I am editing I am looking to make the poem as concise as possible without trimming out the stuff that makes the poem interesting.

Brianna: Is there anything about your writing life that you want to share?

Jess: Something that makes you different from other poets or a peculiar routine or habit? I used to like to write first thing in the morning, tinkering away on a poem with a cup of tea in bed. It’s a nice way to start the day!

Brianna: I agree, a poem is a nice way to start the day. Thanks so much, Jess!

Jess Fiebig

00:00 / 01:21

Jess Fiebig has been a student and tutor at Write On. Her poetry has been published in journals such as Aotearotica, Best New Zealand Poems, Catalyst, Landfall, Takahē, Turbine, Poetry NZ Yearbook and New Zealand Poetry Society. Jess' first collection of poetry, My Honest Poem, was published in 2020 by Auckland University Press. Her work explores themes such as madness, sex, love, family violence, friendship, drugs and dislocation.

Cry, Babe

My best friend cries because

rabbits can’t get married,

she cries because of volunteer potatoes,

for the yellow of mustard flowers,

and she tears up when she tells me

that children’s dictionaries

no longer contain the word catkin,

catkins, she says,

hang from the sweet chestnut tree in her garden

self-contained stems of down

that need nothing but the wind to make love to themselves,

she is so sad that children won’t know

the name of these non-gender-binary,

self-perpetuating flowers.

She drinks three quarters of her glass of merlot,

tells me she is going to write a poem

about the godwits

I say I’m going to write a poem

about her writing a poem

about the godwits;

she tells me that’s been done.

When we were seven

she had a popsicle-stick graveyard

for dead houseplants,

her mother said a few words

at the internment of a maiden fern,

who met its shrivelled end

in the corner of the guest room.

Each wooden cross had a

name scrawled in biro,

and with salted cheeks,

wearing the only black we had,

we clasped our small hands

together in solemn prayer

for the forgotten houseplants,

the faceless, indoor greenery

that she loved

with her entire

little being.

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WRITE ON SPEAK OUT!

WRITE ON
SPEAK OUT

Brianna 2023 and Jess 2004

End of a Book

End of a Chapter

The Interview

Cry, Babe

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