'Signs'

“It’s a sign!” “I was blind but now I can see…oomph!” “He’s not the Messiah, he’s just a very naughty boy!” OK, enough with the ‘Life Of Brian’ quotes but I must admit, I’ve always put a lot of stock into the idea of signs. 1

I guess so did the director M. Night Shyamalan when he made one of my favourite movies appropriately named, ‘Signs’. Sure, ‘Sixth Sense’ was clever and dramatic but seeing Mel Gibson play a widowed pastor who lost his faith (perhaps a sign of things to come in Mel’s own life) was heartfelt. Then to throw in the threat of alien invasion amidst single-parenting; it touched me. 2

Poking fun of the movies ‘Signs’ as well as ‘The Ring’ (another favourite) was one of the funniest comedies aside from ‘Life Of Brian’ I had ever seen, ‘Scary Movie 3’. “Jamal over on 98th Street, watched that tape last night and this morning he woke up dead.” “How do you wake up dead, fool?”3

Generally speaking, I would say taking notice of signs has worked for me. Stop signs minimize car accidents and funnily enough red lights are remarkably handy for that too. When you grew up, your parents taught you other warning signs such as not accepting rides from strangers. Similarly the Trojans also taught us not to accept large, wooden horses. My father had given strict instructions not to leave the markets when I was 11 years old and shopping for cheap ‘Cabbage Patch Kids’ clothes. A strange man offered me fifty bucks to help him look for his cat in the car park and although the money would have bought a whole new ‘Cabbage Patch Kids’ wardrobe? I remembered the warning signs, politely declined and bad luck for my parents, I lived and they had to put me through University.4

As an 11 year old, I was the most uncoordinated kid you could ever meet. Alright, so I still trip over flat surfaces but these days I can blame alcohol consumption for that. But back then, I literally couldn’t catch a ball to save my life. In the days where popularity depended on either looks, sporting prowess or who your best friend was? I flat-lined on all three until one afternoon the teacher announced he was about to read the best story in the class. Thank god it was mine, as I raised my eyes to the heavens above and thought, “finally something I’m good at, as dolls aren’t getting me very far.” It’s just a pity the Oscar’s don’t have the category for best dramatic Barbie scenario. 5

My Dad was in the R.A.A.F (Royal Australian Air Force) which meant we moved around a lot. The good side was I got to see Australia, Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand; the bad side was perpetually being the new kid in school, sometimes all I had was my imagination for company. What was cool in one school was decidedly not so in another, with no warning signs until AFTER you screwed up. I even got into trouble for not calling a walkman a ‘boom box’. “Call it what you want baby, but I’ll still call it love…” Yes, I’m still a NKOTB fan which also didn’t sit well with some. 6

Straight after High School, I went into University. I had such an awesome time doing Drama in my last few years of schooling that scarily enough I tried a Bachelor of Performing Arts. I moved from Darwin to Launceston, from the top of Australia to the bottom. The signs seemed to be stacked against me, as the massive change in temperature gave me the flu once a month. However it wasn’t my health which made me chicken out and change degrees, it was my debilitating stage fright which no joke, made me stare blankly into the headlights - or the spotlight – and I would forget all of my lines. 7

The signs were there, but it took a sign as large as the one in Los Angeles that spelt out ‘HOLLYWOOD’ to fall onto my head to make me reassess my less than cunning plan. I had immaturely thought I could use acting to assist my writing but bugger it, I decided to just concentrate on writing. At least while I’m expressing myself in this manner, I can remain relatively unseen. Changing to a Bachelor of Arts in Text & Writing, I also changed Universities and moved back to Sydney where ironically, I had spent the majority of my childhood. 8

The good signs were there, I had awesome flatmates in student accommodation whom were just as whacky as I was. Once we had a two week long game of Monopoly where we ended up writing out a four page contract on who had immunity on whose property because they co-owned them. We went grocery shopping together, took turns cooking for each other so we only had to cook dinner one night a week and Sunday night was ‘Maccas Night’ aka MacDonald’s; a special treat for the student on a small budget. Then of course there were the midnight runs to 7-11 for our caffeine fixes of ‘Jolt Cola’ to assist our all-nighters that we pulled for the assignments which were due. 9

When the three years were up and I walked away with my ‘piece of paper’, life mysteriously became more complicated. I couldn’t understand it, I thought with a Bachelor of Arts completed everything would fall into place? Nope! I followed my friends from my previous degree into a Diploma of Education to teach High School, as I wondered how else could I support myself with a literature degree? I left half way through my Practical as the same anxiety I encountered with stage fright, also came up when I was trying to teach a classroom full of 15 year olds who quite frankly, saw their attendance similar to a hostage scenario. 10

I changed degrees again when I was accepted into Honours, but my supervisor and I had ‘the talk’ when she realized I had lost focus. When I started Honors, I had also started part time work to pay for the mundane things such as food and rent when my government living assistance ceased. However as I got a taste for independence, I would also come home from my shifts completely buggered where studying was the last thing on my mind. My academic transcript shows ‘Credit’ or ‘Distinction’ next to an attractive, ‘Incomplete’.11

I thought this was another sign, which was to get out of University and into the ‘real world’. I applied for full time work where I started a well paid job, however the days were long as was the traveling time to and from the city. My heart constantly raced and I felt like the walls were closing in, similar to how I felt when I was standing on a stage. I tried to blame my asthma for the hyperventilating but my GP gave me a box of antidepressants instead, as well as the contact details for a mental health team. 12

Eight years of therapy and four types of medication later, I’ve gone from Anxiety Disorder to Depression, then to Bipolar and my latest label is Borderline Personality Disorder which involves all three. I don’t mind, my illness is manageable as I still follow the signs. When I feel frightened or sad or even angry, it’s a sign for ‘time out’ which writing is a remarkably meditative tool. I work part time and am able to support myself whilst still indulging in the odd DVD and pizza night. In University, two-minute noodles became almost a currency let alone the staple diet for many a student. My old Uni flatmates whom I catch up with are now married, mortgaged with ‘rug rats’ and we’re a little more inventive now with the ‘cheap and cheerful’ approach. 13

I’ve been writing books since I was 13 years old and I can talk about writing until the cows come home. I see writing not just as a life raft, but it’s a pleasurable addiction. When I’m ‘in the zone’ and my characters are all chattering at once? I’ve literally felt an adrenaline rush as I speedily touch type to madly keep up. I’ve had boyfriends become jealous of my writing and I’ve made a public declaration that I don’t want children as writing is my vocation instead. My maternal instincts extend to a pet rat, as it’s legal to keep those ‘rug rats’ in cages. 14

It was dumb luck my first book ‘Circulate’ was published in 2005. Since then, working on ten sequels at once keeps me happily occupied. With writing, you try to observe the signs doubly so if you would like to meek out a living from your words. I’m humbly grateful to Eclectica Press for publishing my sci-fi, supernatural, young adult novel. However so far it’s “don’t quit your day job.” Eclectica Press have graciously offered if I find a bigger publisher to get my book in bookstores, they’ll release the copyrights. But finding the ‘bigger’ publisher is another matter. I’ve started a collection of rejection letters as I attempt to follow the signs.15

I send a manuscript to an Agent or Publisher and they reply that they don’t do sci-fi. I submit to a sci-fi Agent or Publisher and they advise that they don’t do young adult. Meanwhile the cost of sending out the manuscript with a reply-paid envelope is so expensive, I can only send out one at a time. One Agency said that they rarely accept material over 200,000 words long when the person said in a condescending tone, “if you know science fiction there aren’t many books that size.” I took a deep breath as I used my sweetest customer service voice, “oh really? Wow, that’s interesting as books like ‘Eccentric Circles’ are relatively small, but the Traci Harding novels in the ‘Ancient Future’ series are lengthy.” This was met with a moment of silence. 16

As all of this is happening, I’ve been posting my drafts of the Circulate series online. I’m ecstatic that I’ve made friends on Writing.Com as well as Storywrite. I’ve had a positive reaction from people reading ‘Scent’ and I get a thrill when it prompts them to seek out my other work. 17

‘Scent’ appears to be an appealing bait, so I thought what if I push myself to complete this one and try again? I thought the signs were right, especially when I had to make requests not to write fanfic based on my characters. The final straw which got my arse into gear was when an online ‘friend’ copied my ideas and writing style and tried to plead ignorance. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I learned the downside of being read a little too well. After the experience, I removed most of my drafts from online. Ironically after speaking to an Agent, they too advised the same as I guess they pictured this kind of thing happening. 18

I often get into trouble by my mother who sometimes acts like an unofficial Agent. It’s because I would much rather lend my copy of ‘Circulate’ to somebody rather than they buy it, which to my mother defeats the purpose. It’s the same with posting my chapters online, I’d much rather you read the drafts first like ‘try before you buy’. The same stage fright that chased me away from acting, comes out when I feel anxious about somebody buying my book. “What if they don’t like it? What if they absolutely hate it? What if they want their money back?” 19

When I received my first couple of rejections, I admit that I took them personally which almost made me quit again. Now occasionally I have a giggle as I compare the templates used. My funniest rejection came from an Agent who said something along the lines of, “it doesn’t do it for me”. 20

There’s a rumor that J.K. Rowling got thirteen rejections before ‘Harry Potter’ was accepted. I also heard that she was so broke when she wrote the first book, she had to write in a café because she couldn’t afford her heating bills. I bet the castle she now lives in must be way more expensive to keep warm! But it’s stories like this that turns the negative signs into positive ones. 21

My flatmate is a musician and over many a drinking night, he’s commiserated with stories about how bands he’s been with over the years have tried, failed, tried again and almost succeeded with recording companies? But then something happens like a fight over ‘selling out’. He works with another musician in a call centre who used to be in a successful band but left over creative differences. Yet another musician who also works with them, his band has been trying for years for that ‘lucky break’. We may not be able to give up our day jobs yet, but just as long as we don’t give in, right? “Never give up, never surrender!” As quoted from another hilarious comedy called ‘Galaxy Quest’.22

Of course I’ve considered that my writing is crap and the rejections are right. But which sign do I follow, do I turn left or do I go right? In the last two days, I’ve received two new rejections for ‘Scent’. This is the second time I’ve used this writing site as group therapy. In my first ‘confession’ I apologized for my addiction but in this session, I’m ‘thinking aloud’. My flatmate’s cunning plan for ‘Scent’ is bypassing Agents and try for a Publisher again. A couple of other people recommend self-publishing. Hmm… it’s something to think about while I use my Werewolves’ regenerative ability to lick my wounds. To borrow one last quote from John Cleese who did a hilarious quit smoking add; he turns to a giant teddy bear in his closet, “oh Brucie, I need you!”