In Conversation: Rosemarie Milsom

A childhood that included moving eight schools in 13 years taught Rosemarie to thrive in the unfamiliar

Rosemarie and Matt started their conversation by ‘writing the story backwards’, an activity we often use in the Vincent Fairfax Fellowship. Using our personal history to trace how it flows back through time, can provide clear insights into what drives us. Rosemarie’s reflection centred on her childhood as testing and chaotic, a breeding ground for resilience as the eldest of six kids. Changing schools constantly was awkward but it nurtured a practice we see mirrored in her approach now:

“When I started at a new school, I would sign up for all the sports teams, join the debating team, find the teachers who would help me. These things pushed me out of my comfort zone, but I knew that if I didn’t find my people and retreated instead of pushing myself, that I would struggle to make friends and find my place.”

In revisiting her early years, we see the fledgling signs of a leader with a tolerance for discomfort, that would bode well in higher stakes.

Skill, incentives and rewards can be the conditions for ethical slippage

Rosemarie’s professional career started as a journalist, where she quickly found her feet and gained traction in a field she would go on to work in for 25 more years. It was in this role where she became a true activist but also where her moral boundaries were tested, naming an uncomfortable overlap she experienced when her professional skill tipped into manipulation, saying:

“Journalists manipulate — that was a major realisation for me… You don’t have to barge through someone’s door to manipulate them into giving you a story, and I was very good at it.”

Once she stopped being able to ignore that she was working in an industry that rewarded traits that were at odds with her values, Rosemarie drew her line and left.

No lesson left behind

Rosemarie’s exit from full-time journalism didn’t mean her time, and craft, were wasted. Embodying a practice that all leaders should adopt, she took her learnings and morals and pointed them at something else where her principles and practice could work in harmony. For Rosemarie, this meant founding the Newcastle Writers Festival. 

The boldest decision was waiting

Rosemarie taking on Adelaide Writers’ Week is seen as a bold move but she’d argue the braver decision happened years earlier, when the opportunity first came up, at a time she knew she wasn’t the right person for it – yet. She acted by building her international standing and a community of peers she could consult with for life.

Saying no to something good, is arguably harder than saying yes to something risky. When the opportunity came back around, Rosemarie said she felt compelled to say yes, having done the work to make her the right person for the role in a time the institution needed strong leadership.

Trust doesn’t come back because you ask for it

Speaking directly about the challenges 2026 has held for Adelaide Writers’ Week, Rosemarie is clear-eyed about what rebuilds confidence after crisis: visible change. 

“Regaining stakeholder confidence is not a given… The new board was one of the main reasons I felt confident accepting the role. It sent a strong early message about how it would operate and respond to what had happened… Yes, we should give people grace, but there must also be signs that grace will be met on the other side.”

In response to Matt’s provocation about what we as a people can do when navigating controversy, Rosemarie’s recommendation was that grace has to run both ways. People can offer it, but only an organisation’s actions can earn it.