Q&A with Grace Heyer

Grace Heyer is a writer and poet from rural New South Wales. Her work has appeared in several Australian publications, including Southerly and Cordite. She was a joint winner of the 2018 Harold Tribe Poetry Award. Her chapbook, Thankless, was published by Puncher & Wattmann in 2021. Grace lives with her two young daughters on the Mid North Coast.

Hi Grace! Thank you so much for publishing ‘Street’ in TSR—while reading your poem, I couldn’t overlook the expertly untethered invitation it extended to the reader. In a sense, ‘Street’ invited the reader in, as a transient guest whose invitation had limitation. I was wondering if you could speak to the transparency crafted in this poetic voice and whether the relationship with the reader impacts your writing practice.  

Thank you for having me! I’m a firm believer in writing as though no one will ever read my words. There’s tremendous freedom and innovation to be found in that belief. That’s not to say it always feels natural. I’ve spent seemingly endless seasons of my life crippled by a perceived incapacity to write anything worthy of ink and a sense that my hands have been tied behind my back creatively. This can come from self-doubt, exhaustion, time-poverty…but for me is most prompted and protracted by grief—where all crutches are knocked out from under you and land in the fireplace. It’s a cruel irony. Happily, I’ve learned to return to the Grievers (other poets) before me and clawed my way back onto the horse when it comes nudging at my suddenly-untied fingers. I am and always will be the first reader of my writing. Anything beyond that, to me, is a bittersweet bonus. 

‘it smells in here / for days / everything real about us feels slo-mo’. ‘Street’ pierces the passage of time, and the result is a state of limbo we wade through that is suspended between memory and future. The result is a vastness that permeates beyond the page. I’m curious if you can share influences on your work that share a similar existence beyond the page for you?  

Ruth Stone’s ‘Curtains’ immediately bounds to mind. Her grief is righteous, dispensing with martyrdom or saccharine sentimentality. Stone’s work is both expertly succinct and powerfully human. Jane Hirshfield also manages a similar magic, particularly with concepts of love. She reanimates connections long-cut, threading heat, pulse and flesh together on the page so viscerally I can almost smell earth on the words. I return often to both these poets and the potency of their humanity. 

You have shared that you are a writer and poet from rural New South Wales, and having been published in The Regional Review, do you believe that locale has influence over the creative practice? If so, how do you think writing from a regional area informs your poetry?  

Interestingly enough, ‘Street’ was inspired by a period of homelessness, after which I secured residence in a neighbourhood familiar to my teenage years. In the year preceding, I experienced a sort of underbelly of our community: DV escapees, the blokes just out of prison, the middle-aged women driven out of their long-term campsites by flooding. My own familial ties felt slack to the point of complete unmooring, but I was suddenly in the same lifeboat as this new-to-me tribe. In this sense, locale was intrinsic to the writing. Logistically speaking, regional writers may be challenged by physical isolation or inaccessibility of events or networks. Personally, I tend toward introversion and solitude, so rurality has perhaps been a help rather than a hindrance to my creativity. 

Thank you so much for your time for this interview! Before you go, where can we follow along to see any future work?  

Thank you so much for the opportunity! It’s been a delightful honour to take part. My X/Twitter account is @heyer_ground, and on Instagram I’m @itsggee.

Lora Subotic

Lora is a writer and editor living in Narrm. Her work has been featured in the Cordite Poetry Review, Demure magazine, The City Journal, and published by the Bowen Street Press. She was a recipient to the inaugural Ultimo Prize with her poetry included in the prize anthology Everything, All At Once. Her work focuses on transnationalism of second-generation refugee children, the inheritance of memory, and the futile search for ‘home’. She likes to read her work aloud to her cats. They like it less.