In conversation with Charles Firth, Co-founder of , one of first tenants.
Sydney Writers’ Room was founded in 2007 and the non-profit organisation now calls Haymarket Creative – a space for eligible arts, culture and creative organisations and businesses to develop their projects – its home.
Writer and comedian Charles Firth is one of four founders of . Firth is best known for his work on The Chaser and most recently, , which enjoyed a sell-out season at the 2024 Adelaide Fringe before touring nationally and internationally. Firth will also be among the panellists on the nightly After the Fact program for . When he’s not performing, he works alongside other respected essayists, novelists and historians who are producing an ever-growing list of published books, screenplays, television series and literary works in the city’s new cultural hub, .
Create NSW spoke with Charles Firth about the importance of creative space, collaboration and why AI chat bots are no match for creative writers.
Charles, you’re one of the founding members of Sydney Writers’ Room, which now has a dedicated space at Haymarket Creative. What inspired you to start the organisation?
Sydney Writers’ Room is based on the New York Writers’ Room, which is this amazing, long running non-profit writers’ room, that takes up a whole floor in a historic, beautiful building on the Lower East Side. It’s where I wrote my book American Hoax while living in New York. The idea behind the writers’ room is a concept of shared solitude: that the best writing environment is somewhere that is totally quiet, but everyone else is also writing. In New York, you had this beautiful environment where you could walk past somebody writing a New Yorker article and another writing a script for a Hollywood movie. It’s really cool.
What’s the vibe at Haymarket Creative and how do you collaborate with other writers in the space?
You get into these casual conversations you know, as you’re microwaving your lunch or whatever. It’s the sort of completely serendipitous moments that actually lead to a conversation. You’re chatting about their work, and end up solving each other’s problems.
There is a process to writing. It’s a craft and there are principles that, if you follow, makes it much easier to navigate. Then there have been times where I just get stuck on a joke, so I’ll charge down the hall to see one of the writers, David Hunt, who shares the space and who is a very funny writer and also a bit of a genius, and we just chat it through.
We’ve got a system on our doors now, so you can be either ‘green’ or ‘red’. If your door is closed and ‘red’, you don’t get interrupted. Whereas people are more likely to knock on the door if it’s ‘green’. If you need absolute concentration, you can have it. But if you’re in a more social mood, it’s fine too.
“The idea behind the writers’ room is a concept of shared solitude: that the best writing environment is somewhere that is totally quiet, but everyone else is also writing.”
What are you most proud of achieving with Sydney Writers’ Room?
There have been some amazing books produced since we started Sydney Writers’ Room in 2007. Hannah Richell wrote one of her novels. David Hunt wrote his bestselling Girt Nation and two more books in the series.
I have often said we should compile a list of the sheer creative output but it’s almost uncountable because we’re talking about dozens of books a year, screenplays, podcasts, it just goes on and on. There’s just a huge amount of creative output that comes out of Sydney Writers’ Room.
What does it mean for you and other writers to have this dedicated space to work on projects?
It means an enormous amount. Sydney Writers’ Room is now 17 years old – the longevity of that as an institution shows that it’s something that’s obviously necessary. And it’s growing. Other tenants in the building, like Sydney Youth Orchestras are also growing and thriving. When we have to rehearse for our live events, we use the orchestra’s rehearsal space. When you go to pick up the keys from them, during their rehearsals, you could just sit there for 20 minutes listening, enjoying a performance by a full orchestra! It’s amazing being in the same space as other talent.
An intangible part of it is just being in the proximity and seeing the craft in action, seeing how the sausage is made, day after day in a way that has to be sustainable and professional.
How important is it to have access to spaces like Haymarket Creative?
It’s interesting how we rarely regard space as a factor in creative processes. Whereas in actual fact, often it’s completely key. I’ve long held the theory that themost important thing for creative endeavours is space. And not just physical, or geographical space, but the concept of space. The space that time gives you, and in having a blank canvas of space. It allows you the ability to dream whatever dreams you want.
Part of the benefit of Haymarket Creative is that space and the cost of the space are linked. If you’re having to generate thousands of dollars a minute in order to pay for that space, then you don’t have space, you just have confinement.
There’s a lot of discussion about how AI is changing the landscape for a lot of professions. Have you seen it impacting writers and what role do you think it’s playing?
What I think we should do is replace all the writers in the writers’ room with a chatbot so the next great Shakespeare will keep costs low! [sarcasm]
I can understand how AI-written content could replace transactional writing that doesn’t really add much to understanding the human condition because if you really want to understand the human condition, you’re never going to ask a robot. It’s not the point of art.
Art is a human form of play, between the creator and the audience.
AI-generated content doesn’t hold any meaning behind its creations. There is no possibility of going, what did that human think? Even if it creates really funny or interesting or dramatic scenes, it’s actually not the point of art. Human creatives will naturally drift away from whatever AI can do well. They’ll always stay above AI because it’s just a tool.
I don’t write because I want to make a living. I write because it’s a wonderful thing to do. It’s a process and it’s a form of expression. I’m sure the bean counters are going, ‘we can eliminate writers from the budget’. What’s the point of life if that’s what we’re gonna do?
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