Over a six-week studio combining lectures, readings, provocations, and workshops, students encounter life-writing forms through embodied practice. They consider whose stories get told, how identity shapes narrative, and what is needed to hook and hold a reader.
“My father has two sons, but he hasn’t always. Back then my name was floral and ill-fitting, and when I caught my reflection in the black of his pupils, it was never what I expected.”
For undergrad Noah, in 2023, pitching, and then having his story, What We Didn’t Catch, selected as a My Word feature meant confronting his imposter syndrome – the familiar companion of ‘minority’ writers who wonder if publication comes from diversity quotas. Noah chose to write the story he wanted to read: a narrative about father-son relationships that would resonate beyond trans experience.
When I learned we’d be pitching and writing stories to The Big Issue, I just assumed and accepted that whatever I wrote wasn’t going to be selected. So, I wrote the kind of story I’d want to see in a magazine like The Big Issue, which represents marginalised communities.
The Big Issue’s remit is well-known. It is a fortnightly, independent magazine sold on the streets by people experiencing homelessness, marginalisation and disadvantage. In its social enterprise model, teacher Peta Murray saw a chance for her nonfiction students to flex some applied practice muscle, while finding space for first forays into concepts like authenticity, subjectivity, positionality, and voice.
Describing what being trans is like to someone who isn’t trans is a task that’s generated many underwhelming, ineffective metaphors. I didn’t want to do that. I just wanted to write about my relationship with my father and a loss we shared when I was a child.
Now in its third iteration, this work-integrated-learning partnership continues to democratise access: every student receives a copy of the magazine for the semester, and every student gets the chance to pitch to editor Amy Hetherington. Amy also shares industry insights, demystifies commissioning processes, and coaches the emerging writers in ethical storytelling practices. Student pieces addressing themes of neurodiversity and cultural identity have since been accepted for publication, with new student writers seeing their work edited for print in 2025.
Most men once measured young hands against their father’s and felt an impossibility of ever being like him yawn before them. As someone who transitioned to be more aligned with masculinity, I understand that feeling in my own way.
The editing process transformed Noah’s story into something universal. Working with Amy and her team taught him the value of a good editor and the art of letting go – watching a piece evolve from personal revelation to public resonance. Later, Amy shared reader feedback.
It really stayed with me – an older man from South Australia read about a queer child’s relationship with his father and found it moving enough to write back. He called it ‘poignant and lovely’. It felt like I’d managed to write the story I wanted.
Noah’s success was celebrated across the program, but its impact went further.
The sheer surprise and delight I felt when my story was selected went much deeper than recognition or praise. It was a confirmation that stories like mine belong on the same page as anyone else’s; as everyone else’s.
For Peta, as an openly queer teacher, the publication of Noah’s story was a source of pride and validation. She is committed to fostering safe, open ecologies, so that the creative writing classroom can be a site of connection, as well as holding space for counter narratives and missing voices. Through performative approaches and playful pedagogies, her students are encouraged to trust their perspectives and hone their voices while developing their craft.
With Trump’s recent second election, it feels even more important to write stories that are true to my queerness, my transness, and the greater human experience that runs through those parts of me. Identity politics seem like the only federal politics we have right now, and I feel a responsibility to use my words to turn the rising tide any way I can.
This partnership between RMIT’s Creative Writing program and The Big Issue exemplifies how teaching initiatives can foster inclusivity. Through authentic industry engagement, emerging writers of diverse backgrounds transform their lived experiences into publishable works that resonate beyond individual identity, while reminding us that personal stories in public spaces are among the most powerful mechanisms we have for performing resistance and fostering genuine cultural change.
Noah Moon is a queer, trans non-binary writer and poet from the Northern Rivers, living and working in Bulleke-bek, Naarm. He’s currently studying at RMIT, specialising in screenwriting and fiction with an interest in local independent publishing and filmmaking. He can be contacted at emailnoahmoon@gmail.com for enquiries.
Peta Murray is a queer, late blooming academic, and writer-performer known for her plays Wallflowering and Salt and her meaningfully irreverent and queerelous approaches to performing the essay. Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at RMIT University, Peta’s research focuses on art-based activism through secular rituals based on “radical joy”, associative leaps and communal meaning-making.
Main Image: The Summer 2023 Big Issue cover