KSP Chats With...Ana Brawls

In this Q&A, we spoke with one of our amazing Caruso Writers, Ana Brawls — a bilingual writer, librarian, and passionate storyteller based in regional WA. Born in Brazil, Ana explores themes of migration, belonging, memory, and language through fiction, poetry, and speculative narratives. Her creative journey was shaped by oral storytelling traditions, a late but powerful discovery of writing as expression, and the challenges of navigating identity across languages and cultures.

In this candid conversation, Ana shares insights into her writing process, the emotional weight of place, and the importance of community and mentorship. She also reflects on balancing research with creativity, writing honestly from a migrant perspective, and the joy of finding her voice through both English and Portuguese.

1. What first drew you to writing, and how has your bilingual background influenced your creative process?

   My mother was a housewife and my father a metalworker. As a child, I never thought, ‘I want to be a writer.’ The context of my upbringing didn’t allow for such hopes and dreams. Yet, our roots were deeply ingrained in our family traditions. So, I grew up with stories passed on from my ancestors to my grandparents, then to me and my siblings. We didn’t have books in the house, but we had stories.

   In some ways, the realisation that this unsettling feeling I had in me was creative energy came much later in life, which peaked after suddenly losing my father.

   I think the bilingual influence was often at odds in my mind. For a long time, I fought those ‘attributes,’ trying to suffocate my mother tongue in favour of English. The result was unauthentic, unrealised stories. I was trying to write from what I believed the audience here expected. But only when I met the mentors that came my way (I am so lucky and grateful to them), did I start to let my Portuguese mingle with English. To me, that was the realisation of finding my voice. Not one language, but both, coexisting in stories.

   It was cathartic, if that makes sense.

2. How do you approach writing about such complex and painful histories with care and nuance? 

   I try to explore these painful histories from a place of empathy and connection. The questions that permeate my writing process when exploring such stories always return to “what it would feel like to be in such a situation.” Their pain becomes my pain, and only by feeling deeply I can connect and write from a place of profound respect.

   I want to add agency to my characters in ways that honour those who struggled under sad and painful pasts. Currently, many people around the world are struggling under similar circumstances as I answer these questions. Modern slavery is real. More than ever, I feel an urgency to write from a place of humanity and kindness.

3. What has it been like having your work published both in Brazil and Australia? 

   Both shocking and satisfying. I have poetry being published in Brazil that speaks of my connection to my grandmothers and my grand aunties. To get work published here in Australia feels like I have been seen, and the trials and tribulations of the write-submit process remind me of why I write. It is to connect, first and foremost. To get even one person reading my work and finding something that gives them either a moment of distraction, something to think about, or something unusual they never expected, is trully rewarding.

4. In what ways do alternative realities in your work offer insights into real-world issues? 

   Great question. I don’t think I had thought too deeply about it until I started my research into historical and modern aspects of slavery in Brazil last year. Up to that moment, I had written speculative stories that explored somewhat dysfunctional societies, mainly because this genre gives me wriggle room to explore without constraints.

   Maybe these realities are a closer reflection of my inner feelings about our society than I like to admit. I am looking at how our society responds to the suffering of others, the struggles and lessening of others’ rights, for the benefit of an unsustainable economic system. I don’t want to write to point the finger at anyone. The alternative realities are a space where I can extrapolate and make sense of where we could go and maybe avoid that path.

   
   

5. Is there a particular piece you've written that feels especially meaningful or transformative to you? 

   Yes, I wrote a short story set in an imagined world where two sisters live in the same house but are separated by a curse. It was written in verse, and despite being unpublished (to date), it’s one of my favourite stories to write. It is a fable, a gothic exploration of sacrifice, sisterhood, fear, and bravery.

   I wrote it soon after a deep conversation with my sister, who lives in Brazil and leads a completely different life from mine. We have a close bond but are separated geographically, so it has a deep meaning to me. I learnt so much about myself and my writing process while working on that story. It changed me; I felt it expanded my creative horizons.

   
   

6. What role does place—both geographical and emotional—play in your writing? 

   I can pick up from the answer above. Place is everything in my writing, both emotional and geographical. The reason I explore Perth under speculative scenarios, in some of my stories, is because my understanding of Australia as a whole and WA, in particular, only makes sense to me through the filter of the migrant experience. I cannot see Perth, Fremantle, or even Margaret River with the eyes of someone who was born and raised here. The roots are not deep enough for that. And when I tried to create characters from that premise, nothing was coming out, nothing worth sharing anyway.

   But when I allowed myself to stand in this land with what I honestly feel about it and understand of it, things happened in a more profound way. And I think it is true for most migrants from diverse non-Anglo backgrounds. It's not only because I wasn’t born here that I shouldn’t feel connected to the land, but it happens differently. I had to learn to look at the natural world here differently than how I look in Brazil.

   Writing place is something that I have been working to improve, connecting emotional with geographical – it takes time to feel and bring it together in ways that strike true with others.

   
   

7. What advice would you give to other multicultural or bilingual writers trying to find their voice? 

   Search inside yourself for that nagging feeling when you are working on something, be it poetry, short stories, or long form. You might write something with a reader’s expectation in mind, and it might not feel right. So, you may need to reverse it and write for yourself.

    When you feel you have been honest with yourself through your work, I think that is when you have found your voice. Don’t be afraid of using your mother tongue if you believe there are no better ways to express yourself.

   
   

8. What literary influences have shaped your voice and vision as a writer? 

   I could go on here for a while. My favourite book is Lanny by Max Porter, experimental fiction at its best. Bernardine Evaristo (UK) and Conceicao Evaristo (Brazil) are strong contemporary influences. Their work elevates the characters they explore, and their writing skills are incredible. I find it deeply inspiring. Lara (Bernardine Evaristo) was written in verse; another influential prose in verse is Bindi by Karli Saunders. When I write in verse, I have no fear of ever getting published or not, it is a purely creative experience, which is both rewarding and a good exercise in conciseness.

   Modern Brazilian writers who are incredible storytellers like Jefferson Tenorio and Ana Maria Goncalves are an inspiration. I am a big fan of Japanese fiction, Banana Yoshimoto, Murakami, and Kazuo Ishiguro, to name a few. I have some books always close by, like the speed dial on your phone. Any poetry book by Thuy On, Paulo Leminski, and contemporary WA poets, who write with so much passion and care, it is impossible not to be inspired and moved by their work.

   
   

9. What are you currently reading, and how does it inspire or challenge your own work? 

   I just finished reading “The Library of Heartbeats” by Laura Imai Messina. It is about love and loss, grief, and the strength we find in the connections we make with others. Messina has a stylistic way of telling her stories which I find inspiring. The use of the omniscient voice is also a lesson in narrative. At the same time, I finished listening to ‘Girl, Woman, Other’ by Bernardine Evaristo. I had read it in the past and again, another piece of literature worth studying, not only because she approaches the topics with cadence and intelligence, but she is also a stylistic, experimental writer.

   
   

10. Do you write with a reader in mind, or is your process more personal and exploratory? 

    Well, I tried in the past, but it always became stiff with time. Not realising this was also part of the process of me finding my voice.

    My work now is personal and exploratory. Now if that narrows who my readership or not, it remains to be seen. But I feel more connected to my work and the stories I am telling. It removes the “reader’s” expectation. It feels more genuine that way.

    
    

11. How important is feedback to your process, and how do you decide what to take on board? 

    Feedback is a sort of validation. Most times I got feedback it was constructive and helpful in elevating the story I was working on. Many editors and mentors are kind, sometimes too kind, but they are there to make the story better. Going back to my early published work, I was afraid of feedback, worried that my stories and writing weren’t good enough, so I was reading too much into everything. Only to learn that some feedback are only suggestions, and it is ok to stick to your gut in some instances.

    
    

12. In your experience, what makes a supportive and inclusive writing In your experience, what makes a supportive and inclusive writing environment?  

    So far, I have been lucky with the WA writing community. I have been part of programs with Centre for Stories, KSP, and Westerly Magazines, and all these experiences enriched me and my work. I met great people who are passionate about storytelling and are not afraid to make space for others to be part of the community. Because I live in country WA, it is easy to feel isolated, especially with so much on social media, it is easy to feel you are being left behind or missing out. But technology is also great in the sense of keeping us connected. Often, I have video chats with writer friends and mentors who I find instrumental to my achievements to date. When a community understands they will gain by making space for others, that is exactly what happens.

13. How do you balance solitary writing with the collaborative aspects of the writing world? 

     I am just starting to understand this aspect as a reality of my work. Recently, I have been invited to multiple collaborative works here in Margaret River with creatives from different sectors. I never thought something like this could happen to me. And I realised that this nature of collaborative work brings immense benefits to the creative practice. For one, you meet different creatives and learn to work with people from other schools of thought. You get a different sense of accomplishment; it feels bigger than yourself. On the other hand, limiting how much to collaborate so I can allow my other creative work to happen is a lesson in time management. I don’t want to run the risk of having creative burnout.  

14. How do you know when a piece of writing is finished—or ready to submit? 

    That is a tricky one. I had moments when I thought, ‘yes, ready – click send,’ only to realise it was a bit green still. In my experience, I learnt to give it time, to work on it a little more, and show someone I trust for feedback before I do more work or send it out. It can be intuitive, but I learnt to let it sit for a few days before I do anything with it. Have another look and decide then. Through writing and submitting, I learnt to be patient. In saying that, I haven’t been sending much work lately because I was so focused on finishing my manuscript.

15. Do you revise as you go, or do you prefer to get a full draft down first and then edit? 

     I think it is a personal preference. Mine is to finish – review. I hold the story closely when I am working on it, and if I stop to edit/review, I run the risk of losing the flow. Besides, there is some satisfaction in looking at a whole manuscript and starting another draft knowing that it can only improve from there.

16. How do you juggle writing with research, especially when working on complex historical topics? 

     Great question. For that, you need to attend my workshop (just kidding). I only did one deep research to date; in previous works, my research was done ad hoc. However, this time, I was solely concentrated on gathering information for the three weeks I had available to complete the research. My routine was intense, but I had a clear vision of where I wanted to get. I would research during the day, gathering the information I was out to gather, while keeping a journal nearby in case something sparked an idea/scene/character etc. At times it was difficult material I was reading or discussing with experts, and I had to find a way to balance it out, maybe going for a walk or talking through it with my mother, who is a great listener.

17. Are there any writing exercises or techniques you return to when you need to refocus or experiment?

    Yes, I like to fall back to a book I used while writing my first manuscript, The 90-Day Novel by Alan Watt. It has some great questions on character, plot, scenes, and I like to use it when I feel a little stuck. Also, if there is research, consulting it, looking at pictures, reading some material, works for me. And if everything else fails, walking.

    
    
    
    

A massive thanks to Ana for answering our questions.

The Caruso Writer-in-Residence Program has been assisted by the Australian Government through Creative Australia, it's principal arts investment and advisory body.