Our community is now called Hilley Literary, after two-thirds of us organisers (Bronwyn and I) moved interstate. Drink every time I mention moving.
We renamed it because The Braddyton was a space which belonged to the three of us. Its original name came from a combination of ours, and it referenced a physical location: our home. The Braddyton needed its lawn mowed. The Braddyton’s bathroom was upstairs. Guests were invited to a poetry night at The Braddyton.
This project began, as I’ve said before, as a backyard gig. The physical space we inhabited informed every one of our events. We had the nexus bedroom. The murder room. The piss-hand zone. The suspicious concrete slab. Until we didn’t.
When our events became slightly too ambitious for a backyard, we moved into Can You Keep A Secret in Woolloongabba. And when we wanted to get some writing done, we hosted sprints online. The project began to transcend the place. Then we moved out.
Rhys, who so generously mowed the lawn and helped set up the fairy lights for our backyard gigs, is still in Meanjin. But Bronwyn and I are now in New South Wales for her degree. We no longer have the place or all three people. It would have been disingenuous to keep the name.
Hilley Literary is a project that still seeks opportunities for writey-writey nerds to share their work, appreciate others’ and set aside the time to hone their craft. Its new name reflects Bronwyn and my continued involvement, and expands its reach beyond a property line.
In the meantime, I am reducing the frequency of these newsletters to once a month – on the third Monday of every month. Be in touch soon.
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