/daʊn ˈʌndə/
informal
adverb
in or to Australia / New Zealand.
‘take a flight down under in September’
noun
Australia / New Zealand.
‘a girl from down under’
Don’t ya reckon ‘down under’ sounds like a commercial for undies? In 1981, a band named Men At Work released the song ‘Down Under’ and got sued over a couple of bars in the flute cuz a company with Larrikin in its name cracked the shits about copyright. Said the tunes were ‘substantially’ similar to a kiddie song about kookaburras. That’s just ace (not really), said Men At Work, the songs are different—even a chook can tell them apart. Yup, cockerels know a thing or two.
If they had a lawyer, might have said, She’ll be right, not as in truth but it’s all good—it bloody wasn’t. A judge in Sydney gave some lippy, ordered the songwriters to pay five percent of their royalties to the Larrikin fellas, five whole percent, even though the ‘Down Under’ tune was in a different key, had a different harmony, played a different rhythm from that hum about kookaburras sitting on an old gum tree.
Maybe it’s no coincidence that larrikin is colloquial for a maverick or a badly behaved youth, one who’s rowdy but good hearted. Anyhow, ’twas a mighty knockdown for the band. They took it bloody hard. The flutist got depressed, and a lot of things that sucked went on to happen. The band kinda went walkabout, then tried to regroup with a whole new team but no one was being rapt about them and they weren’t making a quid.
That’s a bit of a dire story, so I gotta tell you now that living down under, let alone writing in it, from it, on it, isn’t all that dire. Still, it’s got its glitches. The name down under comes from being in the southern hemisphere. A lot of funny buggers happens here, like getting a heat wave and bushfire summer, when the rest of the world is in winter daks, fair dinkum.
But it’s not like Oz is in Rapa Nui, Ittoqqortoormiit, or the Desolation Islands. If I say, ‘I’m from Melbourne,’ nobody overseas is asking: ‘Is it Mount Melbourne in Antarctica, or Melbourne, Nova Scotia? Melbourne, Quebec, Melbourne, Arkansas, Melbourne, Florida, or the one in Derbyshire, or East Riding of Yorkshire, or Cambridgeshire in the UK?’
People know I won’t step out of my front door into the jaws of a great big salty croc—a real right bugger, all six meters of it. Or get flattened on the way to the supermarket by the fist of a bouncy roo. Or get gobbled by a great white shark soon as I dip a toe in the lappy waves. No deadly stingers creeping in my shower or baby taipans curling in my shoes either. But, bloody hell, you might think I got a live cuddly koala on my sofa. Good onya, yeah, nah. I’d say it’s a furphy.
Now you’re reckoning a whole page is gone, what’s this essay gotta do with writing? Bloody much, I tell ya. There’s a transformation curve happening—mate, just stay with me.
See, though I’m from down under, and live in Melbourne, the known city, I’m as well-known here as a pebble. I publish a lot of books every year. I’ve won international awards here and there a fair bit… but you don’t have to be a galah to forget my name.
Nobody in Terang, Wangaratta, Woolfe Creek, Undara, Bunda Cliffs in Australia, let alone in Pakenham or Yarraville in the suburbs of Melbourne, gives too much of a toss, cuz Straya already has its faves—literary royals are a biggie. They’re wise cracks who know their pen, even bubs know them from the crib. They’re folk who make you feel like the billabong is on the back of your hand.
Yeah, that’s a stretch, bloody oath.
You gotta know Peter Carey? He’s one of four writers to ever win the Booker Prize twice. What—you never heard of him? Come now, there’s Tim Winton. Yeah, the Cloudstreet fella. The book was made into a mini series. Bugger. Bryce Courteney? Damn right, the movie took a bit of the book. The Power of One (1992), Morgan Freeman, Daniel Craig in it.
Bloody shame if you haven’t heard of these writers, cuz people in Terang, Wangaratta, Woolfe Creek, Undara and Bunda Cliffs know them.
See, mate? Down under. What’s a Sheila gotta do to get a bit of recognition around here? Not even a Sheila with the name of a bloke?
Maybe you know more about a ghost orchid or a dragon’s blood tree shaped like a mushroom than you know about me and Aussie writers. Because … down under?
Writing down under is no fair go if you’re not with the big five and their sales and their marketing partnerships and their distribution networks. But I won’t spit a dummy or get cranky over it cuz this isn’t a doomsayer piece.
I mean, what I’m saying is I am not that stuffed, as in focked. Cuz I’m still getting published and maybe you’ll buy my books (go to eugenbacon.com).
See, I’m not a dipstick. And I’m not headless chooking either. I got a plan.
I reckon there are writers from parts of the world who feel as if they’re down under to the rest of the world. Parts less accessible to readers across Europe and North America and everywhere that counts, cuz they’ve got dosh. So let me chuck you tips that are kinda doing it for me (like a bit):
- A good writing community is a choccy bikkie you can dip in your tea, feel at home with its sogginess. A lot of lone wolves out there, but collaboration and participation are ace elements for grouse tensions that add heaps to your work. A good community gives support through wise readers, wise cracks, tips to awards, publications open for submissions… You get a support network, counting social media.
Give it a burl, mate, good onya. But it needs to be the right community of practice for you. Know when to bail—don’t stick with people who knock you all the time. What you want is a writerly pash (metaphorically speaking). Folk open to earnest critiques not aimed at maiming you, killing you from wanting to write again.
- A good literary agent is ace! They’ll help you with some of that visibility stuff, put your work under the nose of publishers who count—wherever in the world. Publishers who’ll give your work a fair go, maybe toss some good dosh for it.
- Submit to reviewers—Folk say all publicity is good publicity, not so much. But a bonzer review from a credible source can make a difference, cuz people read them and they want a winner, something different. You got a bad review? No worries! Swat it like a mozzie, move on.
- Submit to awards—don’t self-reject. Look at awards where winning or making a shortlist helps your work from becoming a cactus. Not much you can do about fanfic awards but a blog or a newsletter or a website tells people where to find your work.
- Rock up to events—stay visible. You get a chance to tell people about your work, what makes you tick. People start to know you, even read you, some editor invite you to write a story for an antho …
Might mean attending conferences online, dialling in Uggs or thongs (cuz waist up), wrangling to get the right time: ‘Yeah, your Friday that’s my Saturday. Your morning 7am, 8am is past my arvo, no, it’s night: 9pm, 10pm… Or your evening 5pm onwards, that’s before brekkie my next day…’
- Avail copies of your books—in the digital age, readers don’t mind getting your books online. Tell them where to find your website, your publisher’s website. Use marketing tricks like giving freebies—build the connection, it’s an investment. If they read one free, maybe they’ll buy the next one.
BYO, mate. There’s the smell of a book. Put effort, don’t be a bludger. Bring copies to an event so a reader can touch it, thumb through it, talk to you about it.
In a nutshell, yabber about your writing. Yeah, nah. Don’t go earbashing people, just have the nose for dinkum interest. And keep writing—you’ll be right.
And what d’ya know? That song ‘Down Under’ is now a decent remix by Luude. Featuring Colin Hay, lead vocalist of the original band. Might have sat over a smoko one arvo, talked over tea and some bikkies, said let’s collaborate. No one’s whinging, I’m rapt.
Rapt!
Guess there’s something ace about the lyrics. Travelling on a hippie trail in fried-out kombis, as in broken-down vans. Folk with heads full of zombies, as in spaced out on hash. Vegemite sangers, too, as in sandwiches. It’s an acquired taste—don’t go planning sickies, mate. You won’t get crook.
More Writing Advice from Eugen Bacon
Learn how to approach your writing with an editorial eye, taking the raw material and shaping it into a compelling narrative. Perfect for writers of all experience levels looking to improve their self-editing skills. This 60-minute session will cover, with examples, approaches to creative expression by: Hooking the audience Saying more with less Adding texture…
