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As I write I am recalling that younger self, the one finishing a law degree, dancing in a random assortment of contemporary and commercial gigs and about to leave the country, ostensibly to teach dancing in India. The classically trained Kathak dance teacher at the school I was posted to didn’t think much of me teaching dance however.  As I’d turned up with a guitar, I ended up teaching singing instead. I didn’t know it at the time but that experience was good training for the life I’ve lived ever since.

A rich life makes rich work

I had gone to law school because I enjoyed the twist and stab of legal argument. It seemed a legitimate career, one that my family encouraged. But while I was living in Wellington, I also danced in a range of shows and realised that I wasn’t ready to make joining the black-suited-throng on Lambton Quay my end game.

My Mantra: Dream. Write. Read. Repeat.

When I realised that I could use words instead of bodies in a theatre to tell stories, it was a revelation. It was all on me. Alone, dreaming my dreams and getting them down was bliss.  Highly preferable to having to be on show and cajole money out of the back end of a sofa to put on a performance. I had always written songs and stories for friends, but I learned to sit, alone, quiet and see what came out. I learned to dream and write and read and repeat.  That became my mantra and I think my younger self needed to learn that.

Mahi i te Mahi – Doing the work

Writing has muscles that need working, as much as a ballet leg needs barre work to get warm, strong and supple. So I’d remind myself to do the work. Get in the room. Get the words down. Let life intrude enough to be interesting. Enough to give juice to drink from. And then ignore it. Dream and then write. Then read. Everything. All The Things.

Finding my people

I have worked with some awesome people - in the dance industry, in production and in the writing world. In each field, it has taken a team to bring work to a bigger audience.  A key bit of advice I would give is that when you find your people give them your everything, but if you don’t get their everything in return then rethink the relationship. It might have served its time. As a writer, finding a critique group or writing partner you trust completely is gold. It might not happen straight away. But keep trying. And when you have someone on your team, cherish and support them all the way.

Retrospective - scary and happy is good!

Looking back now I’d likely tell my 22-year-old self that it was okay not to sweat it. I’d tell her that a career making cool stuff happen is frustrating and hard, but at the end of it, you made cool stuff happen. I’d tell her that if she stopped every so often and checked if she’d done what made her scared as well as happy, that would be a good reminder she was going in the right direction. I’d tell her that all the experiences she was thigh-deep in now, right now, would be fertile ground to dig from when she finally got back to the page.

Making cool stuff happen counts as a career goal.

Despite training in law (or perhaps because of it), Michele has been a dancer, producer and writer across the globe, from India to Bosnia, Brazil to Edinburgh. She’s now the mother of two small, loud, boys, who seem equally obsessed with creating new worlds (mostly under their beds).
Her fiction and non-fiction have been published widely and broadcast for radio both in New Zealand and the UK. She was the 2010 Robert Burns Fellow, and as a screenwriter, currently has feature film Tenderwood in development with Firefly Films and director Alyx Duncan. ​Her latest book, When We Remember to Breathe, is about mess, magic and mothering, and is co-authored with Renee Liang. 
 

Michele will be appearing at the upcoming Auckland Writers and Readers Festival, in conversation with Adam Dudding and Sarah Lang.