But recently I’ve come to have an uncomfortable relationship with ideas of qualification and skill sets.

I’ve been asking who created them and who do they serve - or more specifically who do they exclude?

But I’m a storyteller, and an advocate for women embracing their own paths, and the roads that lead them there, so let me tell you how Nine Cups came to be, without the rubber-stamps and golden seals.

In 2004 I completed a Bachelor of Arts with Honours, with a double major in Creative Writing and Literary Studies. This was my passion. But as with most passions, it didn’t provide me with a career so I spent a decade working in corporate training and instructional design. I worked for some of Australia’s largest companies transitioning staff through technological change and became an expert in the field of e-learning (as it was just beginning to find its feet) and instructional design. I was intrigued by the way that adults could be active and effective learners leveraging their own unique learning styles and new emerging technologies. In the evenings and weekends, I worked on poetry and novels, blogged about writing, became the publicity officer for a local writers centre and had the chance to speak at literary festivals and radio programs. Classic shadow career story.

In 2014, with a two-year-old and an eight-month-old, I quit my job and returned to university to complete a PhD. I researched Australian female cartographers in WWII and I wrote a novel and exegesis about their important albeit forgotten work. And the more I studied women’s histories, the more incensed I got. Where were the military biographies about women’s work? Where were their stories? I also began to question formal education processes - who says these are the books we should be studying? Who says this is the style we should be writing in? I learned that storytelling and record-keeping happen as much around kitchen tables and sewing circles as it does in academic historical records. The archives lack the scrapbooks, diaries, poems and stories. I began to question why I thought I needed a PhD to write. Why did I believe that academic achievement was essential?

I was inspired by my research and lit up by the writing, but that wasn't the only thing I had going on.

I had another baby who was unwell for quite some time, purchased a business with my partner and had to learn the ropes of something I'd never done before, I volunteered my time on the school council and inevitably had to extend my PhD deadline to make up for time lost when homeschooling my kids in some of the longest covid lockdowns in the world.

Seeing my PhD to completion was no easy task.

My inner critic spent a lot of time reminding me that cooking dinner and putting on a load of washing would be a better use of my time for both me and my family of five - who would read this in the end anyway?

I was exhausted...but I wouldn't give up.

I learnt about the grit and determination that it takes to commit to a creative project that is not making you money. I became OBSESSED with ideas of creative practice - the art of getting yourself into a chair and words actually written and edited. I trialled ways to make it through when the whole world (and your own brain) is against you.

I shifted my creative paradigm and embraced a new way of working which is empowered and prosperous.

This is the new way forward that I teach to my students.

This shift led me to publish my first complete collection of poetry in 2022 while I was still working on the PhD novel and exegesis.

When I published my poetry collection in 2022 I began to get feedback from women about many of the poems resonating with them (through anger, frustration and humour). I began to see patterns between my poetry, my PhD research and my early creative work. Without realising it, I had been writing about women’s lost histories, their anger and political divide since I was 19 - and only realised at the age of 39 that these themes ran deep in my work and my heart.

At this point, I started to teach again at my local community centre. It was here that I met some amazing women, taking on the task of writing their own families' histories - stories that were rich and important, stories worth preserving. One of my students wasn’t sure why she enrolled, but she returned each week and began to write the most beautiful poetry. 

I knew that my experience in face-to-face and online learning could help other people. By removing the rigours of academic learning I could teach a creative pedagogy that was accessible to everyone. And by moving online I could reach people who may be isolated and unable to attend local classes. 

So I decided to create a community for people like you - for people who are curious about where their creativity might lead them, for people who want to write with structured guidance, for people who are already writing but need something more...  

Perhaps you want to learn more about writing.

Perhaps you’ve reached a point in your life where you can’t hold your stories in any longer. 

Perhaps you want to write but you’re unsure where to begin.

Perhaps you feel too young, or too old.

Perhaps you are a carer struggling to carve out time.

Perhaps you are ready to listen to your heart calling.

Welcome, this is the space for you.

And the name? Well, the name is a story all of its own. If you are the type of person who believes in the magic of creativity you can read about it on the blog.