Purple Prose - March issue 2026
- Jacaranda Journal
- 23 hours ago
- 14 min read
Updated: 19 hours ago
Monthly Recap and Reminders
Hello and welcome to the 2026 March issue of Purple Prose—Jacaranda Journal’s first monthly online newsletter instalment! We are officially branching out (forgive the plant pun) to create a regular platform for our readers, a place to talk about all things writing and arts, book recommendations, feature local creatives, and glimpse behind the curtain to see what the Jacaranda team is up to.
In this issue, we feature a deep-dive essay in our new column The Writer’s Rant on class barriers to careers in the arts. We have an interview in our Creative Spotlight with a shortlister for the Aurealis Awards to find out how new writers can create award-worthy pieces. There’s recommendations for all things media from our Jacaranda team, a review of 2025 romantasy title The Knight and the Moth as part of our Behind the Scenes Bookclub, and a sneak peek of the piece Self-Disassembly from JJ Online.
March has been a busy month for us. Between onboarding new team members, advertising submissions for our upcoming journal, and organising this year’s first salon, there’s been a LOT to do. As April looms, we are keen to announce some new things coming to your favourite creative and literary journal.
First, a quick reminder that submissions for our upcoming print issue Breaching Boundaries are still open! We’re looking for writing and visual art that dares to push, to break, to unabashedly stand out—please send us your best short fiction, memoirs, essays, poetry, and visual art. All accepted fiction and nonfiction pieces will also be considered for our Jacaranda Writing Contest in collaboration with renowned publisher UQP. The winner will receive $100, a 1-on-1 mentor session with UQP, and a UQP book bag. Additionally, all accepted visual art pieces will automatically enter our Jacaranda Cover Art Contest! Submit your best art, photography, and visual pieces to see your work on the cover of Breaching Boundaries. You’ll also win $100, along with a UQP book bag. Writing submissions close 11:59pm April 1st, but our visual art subs have been extended so you still have time!
Our first Jacaranda Salon for 2026 has now officially been confirmed. Join us on May 8th at Echo and Bounce for an evening of select in-person readers (plus a mystery guest), exhibiting local artists, drinks and ramen! Jacaranda Salon is our contribution to Magandjin’s (Brisbane) ongoing tradition of live reading events. We invite local emerging as well as established writers to submit their works of short fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. The theme is completely open. Should you be chosen, the stage shall be yours.
This month, that stage is Echo and Bounce, an independent café, arts and community space nestled in Woolloongabba. Alongside readers, we’ll also be showcasing local artists by displaying and selling their works. There will be time before the event along with an interval for you to let the readings sink in, soak in the atmosphere, mingle with Brisbane’s creative communities, and feast at E&B’s signature ramen night.
Please read our submission guidelines before submitting your work. As an in-person reading event, by submitting your work you are guaranteeing you can attend, ahead of reader selection.
To stay up to date on all things happening at Jacaranda Journal and in the broader creative community, please follow us on TikTok and Instagram, as well as share and subscribe to Purple Prose!
The Writer’s Rant
Wuthering Lows: Class Barriers to Arts Careers
By Jemma Green
Before the February release of Emerald Fennel’s Wuthering Heights, I was very skeptical about whether the film would be any good. I saw online criticism at every stage of development. Leaked images of the historically inaccurate wardrobe. Fennel’s choice to cast a white man—former Aussie private-school kid, Jacob Elordi—in the role of Heathcliffe, the book’s main male lead, who, in the original text, is distinctly a man of colour. I felt it was unlikely I would enjoy the film. But there was only one way to find out.
I bought $8 tickets online for myself and a friend and sat down in the squeaky faux-leather seats of Southbank’s Cineplex, sharing popcorn in a midday theatre filled with old ladies and teenage couples wagging school. Wuthering Heights was advertised as a love story, something intimate and erotic, with dark posters of loosened corsets and a tagline that promised viewers would come undone. Instead of being enamoured with the codependent toxicity of Cathy and Heathcliffe’s on-screen affair, I found myself feeling disappointed as the movie played out. This is what passes for art, now, I thought—high budget gratuity. A mistold story, harvested for its name, with any complexities gutted and polished over to make it marketable, trading nuance and meaning for shock factor.
Not to say that those from wealthy backgrounds can’t make good art, but when the movie industry—when all arts industries—are dominated by those who can create without having to worry about how they’ll afford to pay their way through arts school, or rent a workspace, or even buy dinner, then the stories we see are reflective of those people. We get nepo-babies like Emerald Fennel recreating the world the way they see it from their mightily high pedestel—removing people of colour from the screen, replacing them with private-school white boys. We see complex novels that explore real-world issues—racism, classism, cycles of abuse, intergenerational trauma—reduced into commodifiable sexcapades dressed up as love stories. There is a definite class barrier to working in the arts, and there is a ceiling to how high you can climb without money.
In Australia, that class barrier is upheld at an institutional, governmental level. We’ve seen this illustrated already this year, with the defunding of Writers Victoria, ‘one of a national network of centres providing crucial support and employment to writers’ (The Conversation, 2026). Without funding, the survival of this centre is in freefall, and the loss of it ‘would make Victoria (whose capital, Melbourne, is a UNESCO City of Literature) the only mainland state without a state government-funded peak organisation for writers’ (2026). By defunding places like writers centres, access to working in the arts is left only to those who can fund their creativity themselves. It’s a fact that people ‘with greater household incomes have stronger rates of participation’ in the arts (Creative Australia, 2023). That those from lower-income and working-class backgrounds often forgo artistic activities as simple as creating and reading because they are ‘too expensive’ (2023).
Since Covid, we’ve also seen the dramatic nation-wide rise in the cost of studying arts degrees (Western Sydney University, 2020). At the University of Queensland (UQ) for instance, where Jacaranda Journal is headquartered, a Bachelor of Arts costs $14,615 per year to study. Comparatively, popular STEM courses cost far less. A Bachelor of Computer Science is $8,355, a Bachelor of Engineering $8,255, and a Bachelor of Maths only $6,830. This cost difference is not because STEM degrees are necessarily more employable—although the federal government’s Job Ready Graduates Package does reduce the cost of certain degrees to drive employment in preferred industries, this program has limited background in actual research—but rather, is indicative of an elitist cultural attitude towards the arts as a whole. I distinctly remember being an undergrad student and attending a coffee catch-up for high achievers across all disciplines to meet and make friends. I remember the disinterest and looks of judgemental pity from the STEM, business, and law students when I told them I studied creative writing.
It is this exact attitude that allows the class barrier in the arts to exist. Because when we don’t take art seriously, we don’t fund it, we don’t care when the prices to study it go up, and then we don’t notice the cultural rug being swept out from under our feet. The art we love so much—movies we go to the cinema for, tv shows we watch while eating dinner, video games we play with friends, books we pick up, paintings we admire, songs that we scream in the car on the way to work—becomes a homogenous reflection not of us, but of those above us.
It is easy to take art for granted. But it is not easy to live without it. I feel the film Dead Poet’s Society (which I heartily recommend watching over Wuthering Heights) puts it best.
‘Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.’
Access to the arts, to seeing yourself reflected in a song or in a poem is a human right. All voices matter, not just the rich ones. Because when we devalue the arts, we are only devaluing ourselves.
References:
Australian Government Department of Education. (2020). Job-ready Graduates Discussion Paper. https://www.education.gov.au/job-ready/resources/job-ready-graduated-discussion-paper
Creative Australia. (2023). Widening The Lens: Social inequality and arts participation. Creative Australia. https://creative.gov.au/research/widening-lens-social-inequality-and-arts-participation
Glindemann, A. (2026, January 23). Writers Victoria has been defunded – but writers’ centres are ‘fundamental’ to literary culture. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/writers-victoria-has-been-defunded-but-writers-centres-are-fundamental-to-literary-culture-273704
Western Sydney University. (2020, June 25). Future of arts in Australia: experts call for policy changes to overcome crisis. Western Sydney University news Centre. https://www.westernsydney.edu.au/news-centre/stories/2020/future-of-arts-in-australia-experts-call-for-policy-changes-to-overcome-crisis
Jemma Green is an emerging writer and editor based in Magandjin/Brisbane. She has a BFA in Creative Writing from QUT, her work featured in multiple publications, and she currently works as both an intern with the publisher Riveted Press and as the Co-Head of Social Media and Marketing at Jacaranda Journal. Artistically, her focus lies in exploring humanness and connection.
Tiktok: @jemmaawritess
Instagram: @girlinhertwentiess
Check out more of her writing here.
JJ Recs
Our theme for the March issue of JJ recs is, as per the theme of our upcoming issue, Breaching Boundaries. As such, we’ve compiled a list of the Jacaranda teams’ favourite media with the guts to go against the grain.
Cinderella's Castle by StarKid—recommended by Kiv, Subeditor
A 2025 musical production of a gritty and witty retelling of Cinderella as a revenge story. With actors of colour and a majority queer cast, this is a theatre kid's dream lowkey. Catchy original songs and excellently stupid dialogue from the same team that made The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals!
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver—recommended by Niamh Wood, Assistant Publisher and Editor
I recently read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. It’s about a missionary family who goes to the Congo right before it gained independence from Belgium. It’s narrated from the perspective of the 5 women of the family and they’re not aware of the racist colonial implications of what they’re doing. The story deals very insightfully with issues of racism, colonialism, and religion without being heavy handed or didactic. The writing is really good, I recommend.
Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder—also recommended by Niamh Wood, Assistant Publisher and Editor
I also read Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder which is very breaching boundaries. A woman grapples with her sense of self and loss of independence after becoming a mother. Struggling with how to adapt to her new reality, she embraces her impulses and begins to morph into a dog.
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski—recommended by Josep Grew Figuerola, Production Assistant
Quite literally breaching the boundaries of what a book can look like. Big fan.
The Wall by Pink Floyd—recommended by Jemma Green, Co-Head of Social Media and Marketing
This album is incredibly nostalgic for me. It’s my dad’s favourite and when we were kids, my sister and I listened to its CD every morning in the car on the way to school. A revolutionary mix of psychedelic rock, human vulnerability, and the cycles of loss, violence, and drug abuse. The tracks connect seamlessly and the bold, experimental use of songwriting makes for a listening experience unlike any other.
Creative Spotlight
New year, new us. The first issue of Purple Prose brings a fresh segment built around what’s most important to us as a literary and arts journal: you.
Without creatives—our zine makers, our notebook poets, our desperately talented arts students (and our newsletter writers!)—Jacaranda would not be the publication it is today. As such, we want to dedicate part of our journal to showcasing the brilliance of our local community one creative at a time.
In our March newsletter, we’re shedding the spotlight onto Brendan Cottam: a contributor to our last issue, 12.2 Memento Mori, whose published piece What We Sew was recently shortlisted for the Aurealis Awards under Best Fantasy Short Story. Cottam describes himself as an ‘accidental writer’ who, like many in our industry, ended up pursuing this passion without ever planning to. We emailed back and forth over several days. I grilled him with pointed questions from the comfort of my cotton pj’s, instant latte in one hand, laptop in the other. I asked him to explain how exactly someone could fall into writing and land on the shortlist for, as he puts it, ‘about the biggest honour there is for Australian speculative fiction’.
JJ: How would you describe yourself as a writer and creative?
Cottam: A few years ago, when I saw my 40th birthday rapidly approaching, I was making some decisions about a new direction in life. I kept imagining career choices that I would have liked, if I had only started down that path a couple of decades earlier. Then it occurred to me that I’d [been] writing recreationally—on forums, for role playing games with friends, for my own little projects—for about twenty-five years … I’d accidentally been practicing for most of my life.
JJ: How did you react to the news you had been shortlisted?
Cottam: It was definitely humbling. [I was in] disbelief at first. I’d checked their website for updates and found none … two minutes later, my friend (and fellow writer) Dani Frost checked the site, and then sprung the news on me. I don’t think I ever believed I’d win (just as well, because I didn’t!) but going along to the event at GenreCon and being in that room full of Aussie creatives… certainly changed me. I went in with the normal amount of writers’ imposter syndrome. I came out feeling like, “Oh yeah, next year I’ll submit to the other short story categories, too; I’ll get one of those trophies if I keep at it.”
JJ: What were your goals in writing your piece, ‘What We Sew’?
Cottam: I had been thinking about an idea for a story I’d tossed round years ago … [and] when Jacaranda launched the Memento Mori prompt, I decided to scoop out that idea and refit it in an Australian historical context. I wanted… monster hunting… to honour something real and tragic. The smallpox virus that came with the First Fleet was absolutely devastating to the First Nations people, who had never encountered it and had no resistance to it at all. I wanted to build some of that awfulness into the story: the horror and suffering that can follow a stranger.
JJ: And how would you define your creative process?
Cottam: Typically, I start with an interesting idea or a premise and then I think for a long time about ways to stress it, bend it, and reframe it. That doesn’t sound like a revelation, but there’s no getting around it. Good ideas require you to think about them. I try to do about 70% of my thinking in my head, and 30% on the page. Then I whine to some of my writing buddies to give it a read-through, which is important. Good proofreading friends are indispensable!
JJ: So, what’s next? Do you have any other projects on the horizon?
Cottam: Dozens! But a dozen projects you don’t complete are worth less than one you do, so I’ll have to scope-in a bit. I set myself a goal of getting 5 short stories published, and I’m going to try to hit that goal by the end of the year. But I’ve also got this four-year-old nephew who is my favourite person in the world, and I can’t shake the desire to write something for middle-grade boys. That way, in a few years’ time, he might be able to check out a book from the school library that is written just for him. I think that’d be the best gift I could give him.
Brendan Cottam is forty, has lived in Magandjin/Brisbane his whole life, and is blessed with many friends. A former Baptist Pastor, he is a current history nerd, writer, and future novelist. He has a Bachelor of Theology from Queensland Theological College, a Master of Writing, Editing, and Publishing from UQ, and is currently studying a Masters of Teaching (Secondary) at QUT.
Behind the Scenes Bookclub
March Book of the Month: The Knight and the Moth
Reviewed by Jemma Green
Rating: ★★★★
The Knight and the Moth is the first installment of a new romantasy series by Rachel Gillig and when this book initially came out I could not stop hearing about how amazing it was. I had read Gillig’s debut series, One Dark Window and loved its gothic, atmospheric prose and unique tarot-esque magic system. But when I eventually picked up this new one, it took me six whole months to finish it—a fact which I’m sure the friend I borrowed my copy from found incredibly frustrating.
Spoiler warning for the rest of this review.
The story follows our main character Six, one of six girls called Diviniers trained to literally drown in a holy spring—once revived, they enter a state where they can read the signs and portents of their kingdom’s gods. I found this premise incredibly interesting; it was clear the worldbuilding in this story was founded upon clear rules and a level of religious fanaticism. Religion is one of those concepts I feel is wholly under-used in fantasy, always existing as a background element to lend legitimacy to a world, rather than as a central focus. To see a character and a plot wholly built around this unique worldbuilding concept was super cool.
But trying to get through those first few chapters was intimidating. As with many, this book definitely suffers from first-chapter-fantasy-syndrome. Trying to wrap my head around the names of places, characters, social norms, and general world-building was confusing at first—Gillig doesn’t hold your hand, she trusts you to pick things up quickly. And though I am a seasoned fantasy reader (and this was by no means the worst case of fantasy-world info-dump I’ve read) the fast-paced worldbuilding could definitely serve as a barrier to other readers new to the genre.
My outset confusion was quickly over though, and once I sunk my teeth into the meat of this story, I was hooked. Things get interesting in this book when the other five Diviner sisters go missing, one by one. And I was pleasantly surprised to see that rather than waiting for someone to tell her what’s wrong, or offer her help, Six gets up off her ass and says ‘I’m gonna do it myself.’ She is active and motivated, and those are qualities I absolutely need in a protagonist. She even blackmails a knight to help her search, and in doing so winds up embroiled in a plot to kill the gods and take their power for the people.
This sort of plot is very common in the genre: girl is living normal life, something awful happens, somehow girl ends up overthrowing a corrupt power system. But that’s something this book did really well: it took a formulaic plot we’ve all read a million times, and made it new. It also takes the cliche of a sheltered girl and turns it on its head, making Six experienced with lovers, able to hold her own in a fight, and often describing her as muscular, strong, and bulky—which felt like such a breath of fresh air in a genre that adheres to the Western beauty standard of a slim, short, physically weak woman in order to position her as desirable.
Even though it took me six months to push through the start, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Between this subversion of the genre, a strong FMC, cool worldbuilding, and a well-balanced plot of romance and fantasy, I give The Knight and the Moth 4 stars.
Our April Book of the Month will be Honeyeater by Kathleen Jennings—an Australian gothic fantasy. We invite you to read along with us and DM us your thoughts on Instagram or TikTok to have them featured alongside our review in the next issue of Purple Prose.
Subscribe here to read when it comes out.
Latest from Jacaranda Online
Self-Disassembly
By Caitlin Kelly
Content Warning: Body gore
When I was twenty-four, my body started to eat itself alive.
My immune system started attacking my connective tissue as though it is an invader to my body and not the very structure holding it together. It gnaws at the soft padding between my joints—my elbows, my knees, my hips, my fingers. Any point of articulation where tissue separates bone. One day, I am warned, it could leach into my body cavity and chew up my tender organs.
It is so incredibly painful.
Learning to be in pain is a strange process. Sometimes pain cannot be stopped, cannot be fixed or fully soothed. I take all the limiting measures I can. Painkillers. Medication to suppress my riled immune system. Being gentle with myself. Staying warm. In many small ways, I have moulded my interactions with the world and myself around this constant bodily pain.
And it works, to a degree. My pain is a much smaller thing than it was. My immune system is quietened like a smoked-out beehive, stingless but still humming. I am much better, and as long as the magic spell of my medications holds, I won’t get any worse. But I will likely never be ‘pain free’ again.
Before the medications, a comforting little fantasy grew from my pain. It rooted deep within my brain, mutating in the ways the pain does, moving through my body and nesting where it hurts. This fantasy is a meditation some days, others a craving, a deep bodily want. Some days it is just a wish—a wish to self-disassemble…
Caitlin Kelly is a Magandjin (Brisbane) based writer. She has recently completed her Creative Writing Masters at The University of Queensland. Her writing has appeared in Underground Writers and upcoming in Science Write Now. She has performed at reading events for Sūdō Journal, The Hearth Collective, and Jacaranda Journal.