Sophie Cunningham is a non-fiction writer, novelist and teacher of creative writing, working from a studio at the Abbotsford Convent. She has written eleven books, her most recent novel is ‘This Devastating Fever’. She is currently working on a non-fiction book under the auspices of a Dahl Fellowship, ‘Eucalyptus: A Story in Twenty Trees’ as well as her next novel, ‘The Whole Earth Catalogue’, and a memoir and writing guide called ‘How to Write a Life’.
Aspiring and established writers have the opportunity to learn from Sophie at a series of monthly writing workshops which will be held at Abbotsford Convent from March-June 2026.
We asked Sophie about her writing practice, her current influences and her upcoming workshops, and here’s what she had to say.
Sophie, tell us about your connection to Abbotsford Convent? Does the Convent shape your creative process?
Yes, it does, both the broader convent and the space I’ve made for myself in my studio within the Convent which has a lot of light, and is full of paintings, plants, books, and mess. I also feel a connection to the grounds (I gardened here when I first became a member of the convent community) and particularly love the very old River Red Gum by the main gate and the Separation Oak towards the back of the convent grounds. I also like the Cork Oaks.
(Editor’s note: If readers haven’t visited the recently restored Cork Oak Path, do yourself a favour and take a scroll up this treasured heritage entrance to the Convent which has been re-opened after having been inaccessible for many years).
What are you reading? What are you listening to? What are you eating and drinking?
I’m reading Every Living Thing: The Great and Deadly Race to Know All Life (2024) by Jason Roberts. I’m listening to The Necks.
I’m eating a lot of leafy greens, tofu, fish, fruit, noodles and rice. I’m drinking a lot of water. If I’m feeling dangerous I add a splash of lime cordial. I’m aware this makes me sound very boring, but it’s more a case of getting older, which I’m discovering turns life into a series of negotiations between one’s appetite and one’s body.
What does an ideal writing day look like for you? And what does a more honest, imperfect one look like?
The best writing routine for me is to have a cup of tea, in bed, then pick up the computer, and work on my writing (not research) for two hours or so before my brain has really woken up. After that, I’ll get out of the Soft Office (aka. Bed) and start my engagement with the broader world. This means answering emails, doing exercise, carer duties when I have them, going to meetings or doing book research.
Ironically, I only managed to have this much control over my day during COVID, when I was locked down in the country. So, in the world in which I live today, I work in bursts of about a week on one project, then move onto another. Those other projects include intensive periods of teaching, board work, or simply moving from one book to another (I’m currently working on three).
This kind of controlled leaping all over the place is not a dissimilar feeling to catching a wave. Ideas build, or I have a dream, and then I’m off. I manage to get a lot done on these writing jags. Then I run out of steam and catch another wave. Or, alternatively, I get sent emails telling me a response is expected, or I’ve missed a deadline, and I must drag myself back to the ‘real’ world.
Tell us about your upcoming writing workshops? What can participants expect?
I’m a big believer in guided discussions as a form of teaching. A kind of crowd sourced approach to learning. I think writers learn as much from each other as they ever do from a teacher. Certainly, I learn as much from my students as they do from me.
I also like a quick and dirty exercise. Something that’s over before your super ego, or bossy consciousness, or whatever you like to call it, kicks in and creates feelings of self-doubt and insecurity.
Basically, I’m extremely interested in this idea of creative process. What is it? How do we learn to recognise it and the vitality it offers? How do we follow rules that are useful at the same time as ignoring rules that are irrelevant to us. How do we tend to, and support ourselves in a way that our writing practice thrives? How do we keep catching the waves? This idea of identifying the feelings associated with a positive creative writing practice, learning to trust in ourselves and the process, and learning how to capture and develop these moments to ‘grow’ our novel or memoir or whatever we’re writing is the thread that will run through all the workshops, no matter what the different focus of any particular class might be.
Sophie’s writing workshops run monthly from March — June 2026.