The Passage of a little salmon (2015 Archive)

This is one of many posts that was lost when I migrated my site in 2016. This post was originally published on 5 August 2015.

Like the salmon, I am fuelled by an instinctive mission that, in reality, seems impossible to achieve, but ever faithful about my safe passage upstream.
~ Bianca Bowers

I cannot aptly describe the heady mix of emotions that blossom when an author receives her first shipment of freshly penned books. It is the crossover moment from intangible to tangible; the architect standing at the feet of a 3-dimensional building having pored over 2-dimensional drawings for months or even years. It is an achievement that induces dancing, and warrants a bottle of Vintage Veuve Cliquot.

If only that moment would last…

It has been 2 weeks since I received my shipment of PASSAGE, and 2 weeks since that initial excitement exploded and fizzled, like a bottle of sparkling water that is shaken and opened.

Why, you may ask?

Two words – Impending Announcement.

Just like the architect wants her building to receive a ceremonious unveiling, so too does an author crave some type of ceremony for his/her book launch. After all, that’s the way its supposed to be. Just like Hollywood has informed our education about relationships and sex, so too has it informed us about authors and book launches. Just like the Carrie Bradshaw’s of the world, we authors are supposed to be unveiled by PR-savvy queens like Samantha Jones, who summarise our books as fabulous, thrust us into the warm embrace of industry-royalty, and promise us a spot in the author-hall-of-fame.

Yes, these are the images that Hollywood has conjured. These are the images that our romantic ideals retrieve, and our innermost selves dream to touch. But, for an independent author, Hollywood’s reality seems as futuristic as a sci-fi flick…

So, when the time comes for an independent author to announce her newly penned book, she is somewhat apprehensive about how, and even if, it will be received, without the likes of Samantha Jones behind her. Without the eyes and ears of industry professionals feasting on her. Like a movie that doesn’t live up to its own hype, she waits on the verge of an anti-climax. At the mercy of friends, family and possible-maybes that she has managed to tempt via social media, she dreads the silence that will likely follow, like a mexican wave of pregnant pauses…

Regardless, this is what I must do. Announce and move on. As an independent poetry author, these are the steps that I must take. As an individual, this is the journey that I have chosen.

I tell myself that today is the day. Come what may…

After a workout and music, I sit quietly for 10 minutes on my own. I hear the whirr of the fridge, the magpies warbling in the silver gum outside, the wind shaking the pink bougainvillea outside my window… and then I remember the salmon; fuelled by an instinctive mission that seems impossible to achieve, but ever faithful about its safe passage upstream.

The thought of that lone salmon, swimming against the tide of industry and agents and publishing giants, gives me just enough comfort to keep the doubts at bay. It reminds me that I am only beginning my journey upstream.

In spite of every doubtful voice, look, and sensation, I will keep powering upstream, because, when all is said and done, it’s not down to anyone else but me.

I tell myself this:

“You’re in this river with a bunch of other fish. Some are predators. Some are bottom feeders. Some will get in your way. Some will get out of your way. But, you little salmon. You are a salmon. And your mission is unique. Your mission is scribed into your DNA. Nobody has to understand or support your mission – only you do.

And, just as you know your unique mission, so too are you equipped with the unique tools that will help you achieve your mission. Against all odds.

Despite what the other fish say. You CAN and WILL do it, little salmon.

Other salmon have done it, and you can do it too. Stick with your mission, pay no heed to the other fish – they don’t know what you know – they can’t see what you see. Congratulate yourself, little salmon, for every section of the river that you clear and leave behind you, for this is how you will succeed, this is how you will master your mission. Navigate one section at a time. When you’re clear, rest and congratulate yourself, and use what you learned to navigate and clear the next section of the river.”

I feel much better now. This transformative act of writing is not only vocational, but psychological, emotional, and philosophical. It is the innate tool of my greater mission. I am bound to it, like I am to my body, like I am to my skin. There is no separation.

I have cleared a section of the river. Now is the time to put it behind me, rest, congratulate myself, and prepare for the next section of the river that is sure to challenge, but also reward.

I can see the water now. It rises and dips, and bends beyond view. It charges and ripples with energy. It dares me. It scares me. It reassures me. I wade in, steady at first, then the current knocks me off my feet and drags me downstream.

No matter. I can swim. I’ve been swimming for 40 years, and my mission is gaining momentum.

***

PASSAGE is my second poetry book. It marks a section of the river that I have cleared. It is available now in Print and Ebook. You can READ SAMPLES HERE and REVIEWS HERE.