blog 4: In which I reveal how I was rejected by Paul Hogan

Posted on May 7, 2011 by mgbauer

Doing Uni reading for 4 English Lit. subjects per semester.

I know quite a lot of people who have dreams of becoming published writers and who struggle at times to remain positive and optimistic while on that noble quest. I know just how they feel.

I made my first attempts to be a writer when I was at Uni. I wrote some poems for a poetry magazine and I also wrote a comedy sketch for a television program – the Paul Hogan Show. I didn’t show anyone what I’d written because I was a bit shy and embarrassed about trying to be a writer, but I sent them both away and I waited. Anxiously.

Eventually I received a reply from the Editor of the poetry magazine. He took the trouble of writing comments and suggestions on one of my poems but then ended with something like, ‘Your poems show some nice touches, but unfortunately they are not quite up to the standard we require at this stage. Best of luck with your future writing.’

I didn’t send any more poems away after that.

Then I got a reply from the head comedy writer of the Paul Hogan Show which went something like this. ‘Dear Michael – Paul and the whole comedy team have read your sketch. We think it’s quite funny, but as we write most of our own material, we won’t be using your work in the show. We wish you all the best with your writing.‘

That was the last comedy sketch I ever wrote.

Looking back, those replies seem quite hopeful and encouraging. But back then, when I had little belief or confidence in myself or my writing, I figured those two people were just being nice and what they were really saying was, ‘Stop kidding yourself. You’re not a writer. Only other people get to be writers.‘

These days when I talk at schools I sometimes tell students about my first two writing attempts and my reactions to them. And I say, that if they have dreams about what they want to be, then they shouldn’t be as pathetic as I was when I was young, and just give up when they get some knock-backs.

I know now that I should have kept writing back then. I should have kept sending things out there. Even if  I’d kept being rejected, I would have been doing that I loved, I would have been practising my craft, I would have been learning and improving and getting valuable feedback, and maybe, just maybe, each rejection would have been taking me one step closer to that magic acceptance.

In the end I was lucky. I went on to do teaching which I loved (and sometimes dreaded) but eventually I had another shot at writing and that changed, and at least figuratively, saved, my life.

So to my friends and fb buddies and those people I meet from time to time who are aspiring writers, here’s the message I give to the students:

‘Some people claim you should follow your dreams, but I think that sounds a little passive; sort of like you’re tagging along behind all the time, never quite catching up. So I say you should STALK your dreams. Stick close to them. Track them down. Corner them. And don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.‘

Cheers
Michael

ps I should add that when I say that to students I always take pains to point out, that while ‘stalking dreams’ is fine, stalking people is definitely not! I explain to them that such behaviour is both frowned upon and illegal.  And that personally, I found it to be very time-consuming when I could be writing. 

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blog 3: In which I explain how my first publishing success was on cotton.

Posted on April 27, 2011 by mgbauer

Yes it’s true and it all came about like this …

For years while I was teaching, I’d been planning to write a short-story and send it away but I never seemed to find the time to get around to it. Then in 2003 the Brisbane Writers Festival held its inaugural Writesmall Short Story Competition. To enter you had to write a micro-story of 100 words – not 99, not 101, but exactly 100 (excluding the title).  This was my sort of competition! I could do this. After all, I knew a hundred words – possibly even more!

From some dark and disturbing recess of my brain I got this bizarre idea of writing a short-story about a short-story writer who was also short – a short short-story writer. (Yes, I know and I apologise in advance.) Also I thought it would be great if my short-story about this short short-story writer could reveal his character in some surprising way while at the same time saying something useful about the art and structure of the short-story writing genre itself. All in 100 words. Easy-peasy!

So I sat down at the computer to write the story as succinctly and concisely as I possibly could, paring it back to the barest of bare bones. Some time later I eagerly hit the word count button and … … …  953 words!!!!!!!!! I couldn’t believe it. I had to somehow get rid of 853 words and still have a story left.

In the end this challenge was a great learning experience as far as writing goes. It made me really focus on what was the essential essence of the story and discard the rest. Then it made me work out how I could say the same things with fewer words. Finally, when the word count got lower and lower, it made me weigh up each word like they were rare and precious jewels. These days I try to remember all this every time I write.

Anyway, to cut a long story about a short-story, short, there were over 600 entries for the competition – and I won!

As the winner I received a stack of books, some clothes and a weekend holiday for two at a beautiful coastal island resort here in Queensland.  (My wife was pretty impressed with me – at least for a weekend) But even better than those prizes, I was told that my story was going to be printed on the back of the official Brisbane Writers Festival Volunteers T-shirts. Brilliant! I was finally going to be a published author – on cotton!

However what I didn’t know, was that the organisers weren’t intending to print the whole of my story on each shirt. What they decided to do was to cut the story up into 3 or 4 word bits and just print one of those little random phrases on each shirt. That meant that unless around 30 volunteers lined up in the right order there was no way you could actually read the story or even tell it was a story in the first place. (Not sure why they did this, although maybe it was because the story is a little controversial).

The other thing was, that apart from the 3 or 4 words in a black box on the back of the t-shirts, there was no explanation at all on the shirts about where those words came from or what they were doing there in the first place. So for example, my story was called, The Dos and Don’ts of Short Story Writing. I was given the first t-shirt. In a box on the back it had the opening three words of the title, ‘The Dos and’.

Despite all that, as I wandered around the Festival that year, it was still a huge thrill to see the scraps of my story on the backs of the volunteers’ shirts. In fact, whenever I spotted a volunteer I’d eagerly duck around behind them to check which bit of my story they were wearing. (This turned out to be quite disconcerting, especially for the female volunteers, and I eventually ceased this activity rather than be ejected from the Festival for stalking, or worse.)

But on one particular occasion that day I was waiting in line to buy a book at the bookshop, and the volunteer who was serving there turned around to get a purchase for another customer. On the back of her shirt were emblazoned these three words plucked from the middle of my story – ‘and to the’. Beside me I noticed two women looking at the words then frowning at each other in confusion. So I leant across to them, pointed to the T-shirt and said proudly, ‘I wrote that!’

I learned a valuable lesson that day about being a writer. It was this: ‘Not every reader will be impressed by your work.’

These days when I visit schools I sometimes give workshops on short stories and occasionally someone will ask me to read out my winning 100 word short story. I hardly ever do it. It’s not that I’m not happy with it. It’s just that on the rare occasions I do read it out loud, people generally stared at me like I’m Ivan Milat expounding the benefits of bush-walking. I can’t blame them. I guess the story is a little bizarre.

Anyway, for what it’s worth, here it is …

                          The Dos and Don’ts of Short Story Writing 

Clifford Frelock was a short story writer. It was in his genes. Not only had his body refused to grow beyond one hundred and thirty centimetres but his manner was as clipped, condensed and to the point as the genre itself.

One Christmas, Clifford sank his pudgy fist into the angelic face of an eight year old girl who had, in her excitement, mistaken him for one of ‘Santas helpers’.

The judge branded his action ‘utterly reprehensible’, but the short story writer in Clifford Frelock saw it merely as a fitting and satisfying climax to a rapid escalation in tension.

8-(    

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT FOR?!?

 

PS Two days after I was told I’d won the Writesmall Comp, I received a phonecall from Dyan Blacklock of Omnibus Books offering to publish my first novel. It was quite a week.

PPS The volunteers told me that the two T-shirts that were the most highly sought after that year, were the ones that ended up with the phrases “utterly reprehensible” and “satisfying climax” on them. 

PPPS This was the picture that appeared in the paper about my win. (They used it again the following year to advertise the 2004 Comp) The photographer who came to our house took around 50 shots from all different angles and locations. Wisely they went with the photo that didn’t show too much of my face. Also as one of my teaching colleagues at the time thoughtfully pointed out, “It looks like you’re pissing in the corner”. Marcus Zusak, eat your heart out!

                                                    

Cheers

Michael

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blog 2: In which I respond to ten infrequently asked questions (IAQs)

Posted on April 21, 2011 by mgbauer

British International School Jakarta

Whenever I hop on the internet or check my emails or go about my daily business or even when I’m just walking down the street, I’m constantly bombarded by people asking me questions. (All right that’s all a blatant lie, but let’s just pretend it’s true for the sake of this post ok?)

Many of the things I’m asked are fairly predictable like –  ‘Michael, what’s the meaning of life?’ ‘How do you manage to stay looking so young?’ ‘What were you thinking?’ and ‘Do you seriously think that shirt goes with those pants?’

But over the years there have been some less expected and certainly more interesting queries. So for your edification I’ve recorded below ten of these INFREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS along with my actual responses at the time.

QUESTION 1. From a Year 8 boy in a class that had been studying my book Don’t Call Me Ishmael!

Yr 8 Boy: Did you write Moby Dick?

Me: No. That would be my good friend Herman Melville.

Yr 8 Boy: Is he coming to our school too?

Me: I certainly hope not.

QUESTION 2. From a Year 10 boy in a class that had been studying my book The Running Man.

Yr 10 Boy: How come when you wrote this book, you like, didn’t put anything, you know, interesting in it?

Me: I don’t know. I guess just so I could annoy you and make your life miserable.

Yr 10 Boy: Yeah well, it worked.

QUESTION 3. From a helper at a writers’ festival.

Helper: Would you like to set yourself up at the book-signing table next to Shaun Tan?

Me: Sure. I’m right into public humiliation.

QUESTION 4. From a Yr 9 student at a German school.

Student: Do you like AC/DC?

Me: Yes. And guess what, back in Australia I live next door to Angus Young.

Student: Cool!

Me: Actually that’s a lie.

Student: Cool!

QUESTION 5. From an older German student.

German student: Is it true that in Australia you all came from the prisoners and in the Outback they use beer for money?

Me: Wow! Those Australian Tourism Ads are really working a treat!

QUESTION 6. From a Grade one boy after I’d read and talked about my chapter book You Turkeys! for around half an hour while seated beside a prop of a stuffed scrub turkey in a sealed glass case.

Grade One-er: Is that thing alive?

Me: (shaking the case to make moth-eaten stuffed bird wobble) No look, it’s just been asleep the whole time!

Result: Three classes of innocent and angelic grade ones faces filled with shock and horror. Too easy.

QUESTION 7. From a teacher as we make our way through a school playground narrowly avoiding riots and food fights.

Teacher: Michael do you ever miss full-time teaching?

Me: Would it be rude and insensitive if I just laughed hysterically about now?

QUESTION 8. From a Careers man when I was in grade 6 or 7 at school.

Careers Man: Michael if you could be anything in the world, in your heart of hearts, what would you be?

Me: Anything? Ok I wouldn’t mind being a Ninja if I could!

Careers Man: (Looking at my report card) Well I think I can safely say that you’ve probably taken the wrong subjects to be a Ninja.

Me: Oh …

Careers Man: How you ever thought about being an Accountant?

QUESTION 9. From Yr 9 students in an Adelaide school after I’d just finished a talk.

Adelaide students: Can you say ‘school’ and ‘pool’ for us?

Me: Sure, schooooool and pooooool.

Adelaide students: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Apparently my Queensland accent is amusing to some people, eh.

QUESTION 10. From a teacher just before I’m due to give a talk to a theatre full of students.

Teacher: Will I introduce you or do you want to do it yourself?

Me: No, that’s fine you can do it if you want.

Teacher: Great. And sorry, who are you again?

I think that probably clears everything up you could possibly want to know but if you do have other pressing questions on any topic feel free to send them in and I will attempt to give you the benefit of my lack of knowledge.

Cheers,

Michael

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blog 1: In which I explain the debilitating symptoms of richard dreyfuss syndrome.

Posted on April 19, 2011 by mgbauer

The character of Ishmael from my book Don’t Call Me Ishmael! suffers from Ishmael Leseur’s Syndrome which causes him to do embarrassing things in public. I sort of know how he feels. I suffer from Richard Dreyfuss Syndrome. Maybe you do too.

Do you ever come up with what you think are brilliant earth-shattering ideas only to suddenly realise that they’re a load of rubbish? Do you ever make bold, confident statements only to find out almost immediately that you are completely and utterly wrong? If so, then like me, you might be suffering from ‘Richard Dreyfuss Syndrome’ – RDS for short.

And why do I call it the Richard Dreyfuss Syndrome I hear you ask?

Well the answer is because the American actor Richard Dreyfuss was at the centre of my most embarrassing and humiliating attack ever. It happened like this:

One day Adrie and I were watching an old movie that was supposed to have Richard Dreyfuss in it. We’d been watching it a while but he hadn’t been sighted. Now, I know Richard Dreyfuss. I like him as an actor. He’s been in many great movies – Mr Holland’s Opus, Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, What about Bob?, American Graffiti etc. So we’re watching the movie and this young boy appears and the following conversation takes place:

Me: There he is! That’s him!

Adrie: Who?

Me: Richard Dreyfuss. That kid, that’s him. That’s Richard Dreyfuss as a boy!

Adrie: Are you sure? He’s really young. I don’t think that’s him.

Me: What, are you mad? Of course it’s him. It’s an old film. Probably his very first role.

Adrie: I don’t know …

Me: What is wrong with you? Are you blind? It looks exactly like him. And what about the voice? No one else talks like that. Of course it’s Richard Dreyfuss! Who else could that be but Richard Dreyfuss?

Then at that moment on the screen the young boy character answers a knock at the door and when he opens it, standing there is … RICHARD DREYFUSS!!!!!!!! … and to make matters worse he looks exactly like he does in all his other movies.

Now here’s the thing. Yes I was wrong. Yes I made a complete jackass of myself BUT if the roles had been reversed and my wife had been the one who made the mistake I’m sure my reaction would have been something like, “Oh look sweetie, there’s Richard Dreyfuss. Who would have thought? He wasn’t the young boy after all. But hey, that was a mistake anyone could have made. The resemblance really is uncanny!” I certainly wouldn’t have shrieked in hysterical laughter and pointed at the other person and called them names like ‘dork’ and ‘dag’ and other ones beginning with ‘d’!

Naturally that teeny-weeny error of judgement has haunted me ever since. Where once I used to enjoy seeing that a Richard Dreyfuss movie was going to be TV, now if one is programmed I hide the TV Guide from Adrie so that she doesn’t know. Not that it makes much difference. I still get reminded regularly of my bout of RDS. Here are just 4 examples of many over the years:

1.

Me: Ard what’s the name of the guy who won the Olympic gold medal in the high jump?

Adrie: Was it RICHARD DREYFUSS?

2.

Adrie: Mike you’re wanted on the phone!

Me: Whose is it?

Adrie: Not sure – sounded a bit like RICHARD DREYFUSS.

3.

Adrie (while watching a wildlife documentary where a great ape is nursing her new-born baby) : Am I mistaken or is she holding a very young RICHARD DREYFUSS?

4.

Me: Ard, what’s a seven letter word for ‘biting humour’?

Ard: Would it be RICHARD DREYFUSS?

So you see I have a great deal to put up with which is why I am widely regarded as a saint. But anyway as I said at the start if you also have a tendency to blurt out bold statements and then find you’ve made a complete jackass out of yourself, then do what I do. Blame Richard Dreyfuss.

You are also encouraged to share your stories of personal humiliation on this blog where they will treated with the utmost confidentiality.

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