Paula Houseman thought her life was, well, meh. Until she started fiction writing. What gushed forth onto the page made her realise her existence had not been mundane after all; it had been ridiculous!
Sure, she has a serious side. The concept of ‘identity’ had fascinated her for some time, and she exercised it as a graphic designer creating them for others through imagery. Then, at university (majoring in linguistics and sociology), she explored how word usage constructs our identities and realities. Paula applied her findings to an essay on women’s subjectivity, even won the 2007 UNSW United Association of Women Prize. And her honours thesis examined the archetypal significances in the words that shape our collectively authored cancer story. But while she was digging around in ancient mythology where the archetypes live, Paula developed a kinship with a butt-ugly, potty-mouthed goddess, one who embodied a holy kind of dirty, showed her the absurdity of the human condition, taught her about the value of laughter, and is responsible for the bawdiness in her book, Odyssey in a Teacup.
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