When I was a teenager, I took up judo. I didn’t do this because I wanted to become a champion – I had no such ambitions, I did it so I could learn to defend myself. I think I’d also reached that extraordinary moment in the life of a sixteen-year-old where a little voice inside rises up and tells you it’s time to begin breaking out of the mould.
So, it was very fortunate for me at that time that I met an extremely compassionate and generous man who became my judo coach and a friend for life. Somehow, he believed in the power of me and helped me to develop it. That was the beginning of my own journey. One evening in the middle of randori (i.e., practice), we were all rotating partners, and it was my turn to pair with him. He was left-handed. This meant that the normal judo standing hold became extremely complicated for me – a right-hander. Jack found great humour in the challenge this presented for everyone, and his humour was infectious.
During our spar, I told him that I had a fear of a certain manoeuvre. It was a great surprise to me then, when Jack stopped the class, and everything we had all been working on, and demonstrated the manoeuvre from two different angles. In a complete break from the way our classes usually went, he then announced that he wanted us all to concentrate on this for the time we had left in the session. He made no mention of the fact that this was my problem alone. In this way, I was able to practice and practice this one move with a variety of partners, and the head left-hander, until I could do it without thinking and without fear. In my view, by this one act, he instantly taught me about generosity, about consideration for others, about sharing fears, and about practice making perfect. I love that man to this day – though he is long gone from this world.
Another great thing Jack taught me was the art of sharing knowledge. He encouraged me to go to every judo course and competition I could find. I was an extremely shy and introverted individual, and this was really difficult for me but, because he thought I could and should do it, I did. In this way, I made lots of friends and I think he must have known that is what I needed as well. Every time I returned, he would tell the class where I’d just been and then announce that I was going to share with them what I’d learned. It was a huge surprise to me the first time he did this, and I was terrified. But I did my best to accommodate this extra learning curve into my little world as I could see he was also causing others to view me differently. I suddenly felt special and lucky – and that was something I’d never felt before. Also, his strategy got me to focus more, and really pay attention on my courses, so I would be able to convey the knowledge to the class back home. In this way, I grew into the person he knew I could be.
I have never forgotten these gifts and, at the risk of becoming boring sometimes, I continue to try and pass on things to friends that I think are important. I figure that anyone not interested will simply close off or walk away – I’m okay with that. We can’t all be interested in the same things.
In this vein, and just in case it might be useful to anyone embarking on the wonderful world of writing, I’d like to share what I’ve gleaned so far from a plethora of generous writers at classes, conferences, and festivals. Here is the gist, in my own words, and in no particular order.
- Keep plugging away. One day it’ll be your turn.
- Take inspiration from everything and everyone.
- The home will always require attention and will mercilessly banjax your writing time, so try not to give in to it. Organise a quiet nook somewhere and set some boundaries for yourself.
- Read as much as you can, and venture into genres other than your favourites.
- After you’ve written something, let your manuscript sit awhile. When you come back to it, like a good wine, it’ll have matured somewhat and know what it wants.
- Don’t worry about negative comments; not everyone can like you or appreciate what you’re trying to do.
- Work out whatever time seems best for you and your writing and stick to it.
Apropos of that latter, Jack Heath got the biggest laugh at the Canberra Writers’ Festival in August 2018 when he said that the only tool you need for successful writing is the same two words you use to teach dogs: ‘Stop’ and ‘Stay.’ Hah!