Picture it: late summer, climate-change humid, Old Arts lecture hall. I am hunched over a folding desk the size of a postcard as I scrabble notes on increasingly crowded paper.
Sam Cooney, publisher at The Lifted Brow, has the floor. He talks about running a magazine, developing a new imprint, connecting with a literary readership: stuff that sounds, as my kid might say, so OP.
I want in.
Sam takes questions. I ask how – given that, as Sam has said throughout his presentation, the Brow’s hiring policy is not ‘jobs for mates’ – one does get a job at the Brow. Where does he find his people? What does he look for?
Both questions, Sam says, share one answer: Twitter.
So I don’t take up tweeting. Sam and the Brow (band name worth considering y/y?) don’t find me or my work.
It’s cool, I say.
I’ll connect with Melbourne’s lit-peeps some other way, I say.
I don’t need Twitter for that just because I have none friends with left oops-I’m-an-immigrant-everyone-I-know-is-fifteen-thousand-kilometres-away, I say.
Spoiler alert: I lie.
Fast-forward to winter term. Another class – this time, Writing and Editing for Digital Media – another guest lecture, another spine-contorting folding desk.
And, it turns out, another appearance from Sam. Yay!
Oh, he’s talking about Twitter. Boo!
He’s showing us Brow tweets.
Apparently they just published, like, a whole entire essay one tweet at a time.
Shit, I say.
So. I’m on Twitter now.
It’s going okay, I guess.
Yesterday I followed a bunch of Melburnian po-biz accounts, including The Brow’s.
Tomorrow… the world? No?
That’s cool. I’d settle for a gig at the Brow.
Jude Ellison is a poet, a nonbinary queer and an immigrant whose writing explores collisions: the urban and the wild, the monolith and the marginal, the self and the story. Past publishing credits include Hayden’s Ferry Review, Tarpaulin Sky and MAYDAY. Jude lives in Melbourne with two partners, one son and three cats.