Books and Television

If I knew growing up, what I know now, about books, I may have been a different person. I may not have bothered with having a childhood. I may have learned how to spell, I may have thought in words, rather than vague feelings, and I may not have felt so alone.

But I was never a reader. My first love was television! As restricted and rubbished as it was by my parents, I viewed it as forbidden fruit. (Sneaking up to it and switching it from Sesame Street to some raunchy day-time soap, on the rare occasion, that my mother left the room.)


We lived on a ten acre hobby farm on the outskirts of Clifton, which is on the outskirts of Toowoomba, which is on the outskirts of Brisbane, which is on the outskirts of Sydney, which is on the outskirts of Australia, witch frankly feels like it’s on the outskirts of the rest of the world.

At the tender age of seven, my window into the rest of the world, was our small, black and white TV. No, I’m not secretly 54 years old, and my parents weren’t poor. They were just conservative hippies! Who hated everything commercial television stood for:

The sexualization of women, the consumer inspiring ads, the over simplistic morals that predictably emerged at the end of each sit-com. It was all rubbish.

“Turn the idiot box off” was the only discussion we ever had about what was on tv. I would lie awake at night crying tears of frustration in bed, because I could hear the television’s feint murmurs, yet was not allowed to watch.

At eight years of age, we moved briefly to Brisbane, and got a color television for the first time. My brother J-Rad and I flicked it on, catching Sesame Street, and were TOTALLY BLOWN AWAY to discover Elmo was red, and not blue like the rest of the monsters.

Television had such a mesmerising power over me. I still have the taboo images of Collette’s “Ring My Bell” music video (below) burned into my retinas.




Seeing a grown woman dance around in a sexy bra on television was so incredibly entertaining, and freeing for me – that I just knew - THAT was what I wanted to do when I grew up!

Our parents tried to get us kids to read, by forcing some of the most boring books in the world on us. But I couldn’t relate to them. Nothing until The Magic Faraway Tree, that I discovered while at a friend's house, ever came close to stirring my imagination.

In grade seven, after reading Playing Beatie Bow (the first novel I ever enjoyed) I got inspired. We had to write a 30 page fiction story for a class assignment, and I based mine loosely on elements from this book, and of course, The Magic Faraway Tree.

The part I borrowed from Playing Beaty Bow, was the main character’s struggle with news of her parent’s divorce. I remember thinking, how would I feel if my parents got divorced? So I wrote that.


My parents read my story with hidden apprehension. Unbeknownst to me, they had secretly decided to separate in six months time, after I’d settled into high school the following year.

So, six months later, after they had announced their divorce, they both told me that I must have known about it, when I was writing my story. But the truth is, I had absolutely no idea, and I was too ashamed to admit I had borrowed the idea from another book. Which led me to the odd belief, that perhaps, because I had written it down, and it had come true!… I had accidentally predicted the future.

Even now, I’m held hostage by this superstition. I tried writing about dealing with the imaginary death of a parent, and just couldn’t. In case I curse my self again. Even writing about it here makes me nervous!

The odd thing is, how I had imagined reacting to my parent’s divorce, and how I actually did react, was completely different. In my book, I was furious and hurt, and real life, I was just sad, then rather accepting.

***

My grade seven story, ended up winning first prize, and ten dollars, in our class competition. I thought the runner up, my best friend Franny, should really have won. She was a much better writer than me, and was the one who gave me Playing Beatie Bow in the first place.

This year, I’m mostly without a television, and so have become a belated bookworm. And these books are having the most extraordinary effect on me. I keep thinking each author knows me, and is speaking from voices within my own mind. (Narcissist much?) They inspire me, just like Collette did. And they are also helping me write more betterer.

Which, apart from dancing around in a bra and tights, is exactly what I’d like to do with my life… write stories for television! Then hopefully, one day, a curious little kid from the country, who’s wondering "What else does this life have to offer?" will open up their tv or internet connection, see something, and get inspired!… or at least be wildly entertained!