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Andrea Damic: "The more I write, the more I feel liberated"

  • samszanto2
  • 59 minutes ago
  • 9 min read

How would you describe ‘All the Losses’ in one sentence?


Sam, this is such a difficult question, ugh. I come from a background where people monopolise conversations and get philosophical about anything and everything, so I can only say that one-sentence answers are not in my DNA.

I think Red, the EIC of Alien Buddha Press, put it well when he called my collection a wound and a palette. I suppose a child in me is still trying to make sense of the past and her place in this world, while an adult is trying to find ways to make peace with what’s happened to me and my generation, with all the layers in between.

How did you come to choose Alien Buddha Press as your publisher?


There are a few reasons, actually. One is—though not necessarily in this order—that I didn’t want to wait years for my chapbook to be published. From other authors' comments, Alien Buddha Press (ABP) tends to respond quickly. I figured I’d at least get a fast reply. After Red’s affirmative response, everything happened pretty fast. Another reason was that ABP was willing to publish a hybrid chapbook, and by ‘hybrid’ I don’t mean only poetry and prose, as many publishers do. I needed my artwork included as well, and my research into other indie presses and their guidelines didn’t show many accepting art as part of the hybrid work. The few that might have been open to it still haven’t responded to this day. This brings me back to my concern about not wanting to wait years for my chapbook to see the light of day. If a publisher couldn’t respond to a simple question with a "yes" or "no”, what else could I expect? As a result, I didn’t dwell on this much. ABP reacted very quickly, and after seeing the amazing blurb on the back cover that Red wrote about my collection, I knew I’d made the right choice. I wouldn’t have described it better myself.


How did you come up with the title?


That was the easy part. The collection focuses heavily on the losses: childhood, youth, innocence, homeland, friendships, my dad, my grandparents on my dad's side, etc. But there is hope, so it’s not all doom and gloom, ha-ha.

What was the inspiration for the book?


As you know, English is not my native language. When I started on this writing path five years ago, I never imagined I’d have a chapbook published. With no prior experience and no formal education in creative writing—I am (or was) an accountant by profession—I was just happy my pieces were good enough for publication. When I realised I had a hundred publications and had been anthologised almost a dozen times, I thought I might have enough for a chapbook. The theme presented itself, as most of my stories centre on loss or have it as an underlying subject. It was just a matter of choosing the right ones. When you witness the world crumbling around you early in life, you realise how fragile ‘today’ can be. I often think of Charles Babbage’s idea (early 19th century) that every word ever spoken leaves a permanent trace in the air (for better or worse), so having something tangible to hold onto has always been my main driver.

There are several pieces in the book inspired by other works, including art. I wonder, in a book which is (for me) so much about feeling unsafe through displacement, if there’s a sense of safety in working within an already contained structure?


Great question. I have to admit my mind goes blank when I need to free-write. I admire people who do it so easily. When your muse decides to phone it in, you need a starting point, and for me that’s being inspired by others’ work, including art. It gives me the boost I need. The best I can describe it is a lightbulb flashing above my head, like in cartoons. For example, my prose poem ‘The Road Once Taken,’ included in ‘All the Losses’ (not previously published), was written almost in one breath after coming across Peter Howson’s artwork (UK, London), which is extremely powerful and heavy (for lack of a better word); specifically his ‘Snow Road’ image (https://peterhowson.co.uk/bosnia/4-snow-road/). I have only recently discovered the name of that particular artwork. Reading that he was appointed an official artist of the Bosnian war added another layer—I related to the emotion depicted in his artwork even more closely. I cried while writing this prose poem because, while the initial trigger was his artwork, it made me remember my own experiences. Not everyone can pinpoint when their childhood ended, but even then, at almost twelve, while waiting to board the last bus leaving Sarajevo, I knew—subconsciously—that my childhood was over. Looking at his artwork, I remembered the petrified faces of children and people around me pushing and shoving to get on that bus, my father’s silhouette waving from afar. I remembered stories from family members who stayed in Sarajevo during the war. Sometimes the trigger can be so powerful that it feels like I’m on autopilot when writing. While a contained structure might feel safe to start with, it’s an illusion. There is nothing safe about putting all these memories on the page. And often, what’s unsaid speaks volumes. Others’ art or words, if I feel them deeply, can be a powerful trigger for my own experiences. I suppose the only safety I feel is in calling a piece of writing fictional, even though it’s 90% nonfictional, because I am not yet ready to call it for what it is. The more I write, the more I feel liberated. Who knows, maybe a day will come when my writing becomes pure fiction, which is something I currently struggle with, in poems as well as prose.


How did you structure the pieces?


As you know, ‘All the Losses’ is my debut chapbook. Before this journey, I didn’t even know what the word meant. I did my research and learned that it should be kept small, on average between 15 and 30 pieces (there are slight variations depending on the publisher), and that the main focus is to make it a well-contained, cohesive work. It’s also important to avoid slowing the pace too much, which is apparently a trap new authors occasionally fall into. In my case, the idea was to break the words with the artwork and mix poetry and prose, allowing readers to pause, reflect, and perhaps continue reading the next day. Since some pieces are longer, placing artwork or shorter poems after those pieces would allow the reader to ‘rest’ a bit. One of my friends recently pointed out how busy she has been with work, with no time to sit down and read my collection all at once, and how she welcomed the way I structured it, as it provided her with just that—to take it in and reflect on it throughout the day by reading a piece or two a day. I understand not everyone may feel the same, but that was the overall idea.

I really admire creatives who produce art and poetry, as I can only produce the latter. This may be an impossible question, but I wonder what inspires you to create a piece of art or take a photograph versus what inspires you to write about it? Do some subjects lend themselves more to one or the other?


Photography is something I have always done. I still remember the early days of using my grandpa’s camera with a flash cube. I suppose that, having lost so much early on, I have always felt the need to freeze moments in time. That has always been my way of keeping a distance from what unfolds in front of me. Initially, it was people, my family, friends, and events we attended. This is especially true of Croatia, in the early years when we first fled, because I have very few photos from my time in Sarajevo, and capturing those moments was extremely important to me. Understanding that about myself has helped me approach others’ work. If I find something that stimulates me in a work of art, it’ll probably manifest in my own expression. And it doesn’t always happen instantly. The idea can simmer in my mind for a long time before taking shape on a page, or I can write something completely unrelated and then remember something I saw or heard that would perfectly fit the piece I’m involved in. In general, other people’s work, whether writing or art, can be great stimuli when you stare at the blank page. The subjects I relate to most are those of loss. Pain is such a deeply primal emotion that it often demands expression, but sometimes it’s sufficient to freeze a moment in time without the need to explore it further. I do admire people who produce humorous stories and art. The world needs them now more than ever.

Which authors or artists inspire your work?


I grew up reading Tolstoy, Poe, Voltaire, Cervantes, Ionesco, Proust, Hemingway, etc. Then there was a long period when I read nothing, focusing on my studies, living in London for a year, and moving to Australia, where I felt I was starting my life from scratch. And I was—from learning to hear and speak the language to trying to fit in as much as possible, getting to know the culture and people, finding a first job, then a second, then… and so on; always working with numbers. Not much time for artistic expression of any kind (or so I thought). The first novel I read in English after moving to Australia was Ayn Rand’s ‘The Fountainhead’ (my husband is an architect, and he thought that was something I needed to read, and he was right). I remember it being so hard to understand. I used the dictionary a lot back then, but I persevered. Then there was ‘The Kite Runner’, a novel by Khaled Hosseini that blew me away. Then there was a period when I read a lot of sci-fi, such as 'The Lost Fleet' by John G. Hemry (I am a huge fan of the sci-fi genre), and fantasy fiction. Lately, I’ve been reading more art books than ever, like ‘Regarding the Pain of Others’ by Susan Sontag (not for the faint-hearted), “Annie Leibovitz At Work” by Annie Leibovitz, etc. After my daughter was born, I started reading children’s picture books. I can honestly say I read hundreds of them. They are actually so similar to microfiction and flash fiction, as they say a lot in fewer words. Nowadays, as an editor and writer myself, I read a lot of short pieces while reading several chapbooks at once. Sometimes I feel like 24 hours in a day aren't enough for everything I’d like to do, as if I am trying to make up for lost time. There are so many authors I admire, especially in contemporary fiction and nonfiction. I have a great writing community. I am sure they know who they are, as I have told them many times that I find their art and writing inspiring (including yours). After all, I learned so much from all of you, and without this community, my chapbook wouldn’t see the light of day.

What’s your writing process? i.e., do you work at a particular time of day / in a particular place? Do you need silence, or can you work in a café?


I cannot write in a café. I need silence, but if people could be muted while out and about, it wouldn’t be a problem, ha-ha. Occasionally, if a thought strikes on public transport or in a crowded place, I write it down on my phone so I don’t forget, because believe me, you forget. But in general, I need quiet. The majority of my pieces were written late at night, when everyone was asleep. Lately, I write in the morning while my daughter is at school. I write in our dining room, next to the balcony door overlooking trees and rooftops. Sometimes you can see rainbow lorikeets chatting away. Writing is a solitary business, which is why I love attending workshops whenever time permits.


Do you write in any other genres?


I have written a few sci-fi stories that have been published, but I generally write contemporary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. I am starting to lean into speculative fiction more, and I am loving it.

Have you any readings or other events planned to promote the book?


‘All the Losses’ has been out since 1st February 2026, and it’s been so overwhelming that I haven’t had the chance to think about readings. However, I’ve been focused on spreading the word through social media as much as possible without overdoing it. I don’t want my peers and friends to get sick of me. But I do have some news I’d like to share. I recently reached out to libraries across Australia, and I’m still waiting for most of the responses. Having said that, I heard back from the National Library of Australia (I’m still in disbelief). NLA collects books by Australian authors to build the national collection, which is preserved for future generations. In doing so, they help researchers, scholars, and audiences understand the Australian experience. When I got an email saying they would like to acquire my book, I almost fell off my chair. I never expected to hear from them, of all the libraries. The idea that, in decades from now, someone might still read my tiny collection is out of this world; assuming humanity survives that long. But not to end on a negative note, I’m so grateful to everyone who has already purchased and read my chapbook, and to those of you who have already reviewed it or are in the process of doing so. While promoting myself doesn’t come naturally to me, and I know many authors feel the same, I do hope you'll leave a sentence or two on Amazon and/or Goodreads about what touched your soul, if anything. It would mean a lot.



 
 
 
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