How I write Memoir

 

...automatic writing

(redirected from Free writing)

'...Writing performed without conscious thought or deliberation, typically by means of spontaneous free association or as a medium for spirits or psychic forces...'

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/Free+writing


Writing is a place where my voice is freed.  It’s a place where I see things in a new light.  It is in this place that I can see things, sometimes for the very first time.  It’s a place that speaks my truth to me.     

     Words build the sentences of my life.  Inside the sentences are hidden secrets, messages, signs, gut feelings.  Many of these are benign, and though interesting, are of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. Others reveal the cancers, the cracks, the poison cup.

      My writing emerges from my memory.  I hold the memory in the crevices on my face, on the scars of my body and in the beating of my heart.  When I locate it, a picture illuminates in my mind, and plays before me like a 3D movie. My brain sends words down my arm, past my wrist and into my hand and fingers.  The dance begins.

      I am taking dictation it seems, following the voice until the music finishes, and I sit down and read what I have written.

It is here I discover who I was. It is here I discover who I am.


Since I began writing this memoir, the structure of the work has changed from a linear narrative structure, to a multi-linear project.  This has come about as a result of feedback from my peers, and also through intensified reading of other’s works.

     Free writing exercises penned  throughout my degree, have contributed a great deal to the writing of my work so far, and are easily adapted in a multi-linear structure such as the one I am using.  One-line 'starters' have resulted in fully detailed chapters. 

     Free writing takes me to surprising and unexpected destinations where I never intended to be. This in turn has brought up characters and events that I never intended to include.  For example there is one small scene at The Nest the children's home where my sister works when I am eleven, with a group of boys who stay there, that details a picture of sexual abuse.  This scene was pretty much borne from free-writing and remains largely unedited and unchanged.

     
      I have been lucky with the writing of this memoir to have alot of useful resources available to me, regarding research.  I have made research trips up to the North Island to interview relevant characters and I intend to travel further afield to Australia in the coming months to gather material for the second part of the trilogy, which will focus mainly on the ten years that I lived in Australia. 

     I have a collection of letters I sent from Australia, that were kept and held, including some from the period where I was using IV drugs daily, which I currently use.  I have pages of doctor's reports from a few years later in Australia, when I had an undiagnosed condition for two years and my weight plummeted to 45 kilograms.

     I have three large volumes of file notes by ACC, and psychiatric reports. These have helpful in recalling my life events and chronology, but are even more useful to me in the writing of the third part of the trilogy, which takes the reader deeply into the world of mental illness - Post Trauamatic Stress Disorder, Bi Ploar Disorder, depression, anxiety, and suicide.  It shows the swift transition from functional though flawed, to incapacitated and unstable.  The experience of being medicated with various different psychiatric medications is visited. 

     When I write I like to recrate mood and atmosphere by listening to old records and music that has been familiar and relevant to my life.  Everybody has a soundtrack. 

     These are all great stimuli, and a fantastic resource, but one of my greatest resources in this journey has been Facebook.  It is the world's ultimate time machine...


But that is a story on it's own.

A Healing Process - The Blenheim Sun

Here is a link to a full page article on page ten, written about me and the writing of my book. Published in The Blenheim Sun, March 2012:http://issuu.com/blenheimsun/docs/march_7lr

Extract - The drugs

    '....Brendon and Saul met me at the pub on the Saturday following my first experience with speed.  Saul asked if I wanted to go thirds with them in a bag again.

      ‘For sure,’ I said, instantly aroused.  ‘But this time I want to do it like you guys do.’

     Saul looked at Brendon, a slight frown on his face.  Brendon took a deep breath then sighed.

     ‘It’s your choice, man.  It’s the best way to do it, but only if you’re careful.  We’ve never told you to do it this way though, it’s your decision.’

     They took me to a house in the seedier part of Wallsend.  Two huge Rottweilers bounded up to the corrugated iron fence and barked ferociously, slobber drooling from their meaty lips, before a tall thin man emerged from the house and called the dogs off, letting us through the gate.  After looking me over suspiciously, he invited us inside. 

     There were half a dozen people in the lounge room, not counting the couple of toddlers.  There was a sickly musky smell in the air, a blend of pot and cigarette smoke and beer.  Each person wore a thin sheen of sweat on their faces in the warm October night air.  I stuck fast to Saul.  These people looked scary, dodgy, and I felt scrutinised.

     After a brief discussion with the man Brendon told me to go with him and Saul into one of the bedrooms, away from the kids.  Inside was a woman in her mid-thirties, with dirty peroxided hair, and dark circles that spread heavily below her sallow eyes.

     ‘It’s his first time,’ Brendon said to her.  ‘You’re up, Ivan.  Roll up your sleeves, man.’

     I was suddenly incredibly nervous.  I hadn’t expected to go first.  Saul made a makeshift tourniquet with his hand around my upper arm, holding it steady at the same time.  I looked away, fearing not only the sting of the needle, but terrified I would overdose.  This was new territory for me.  I felt the sensation like a small ant biting me before I heard her say ‘All done,’ and pressing a bit of tissue into the crook of my arm. Saul released his grip.

     Instantly I tasted the speed, again in the back of my throat, but in a much more palatable form  than when we I had snorted it.  Then my chest suddenly announced itself with an emphatic Boom! That reverberated around my body, my veins delivering the stimulant to all areas of my body in a milli-second.  The rush took my breath away and left me panting, like I had just had an orgasm.

    Five minutes later I re-emerged into the lounge, a new version of Ivan.  I was confident, I engaged with the strangers who no longer seemed so unattractive or unapproachable.  Brendon and Saul and I stayed and talked, listening to music until daylight crept over the east-edge of Wallsend.  I even made friends with the dogs. 

     I had never felt so accepted.  I had never felt so alive....'

Inspiring Voices (3)

Lorenzo Garcaterra –

Sleepers, A Safe Place

Sleepers is a story about four boys growing up in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen, where a juvenile prank goes horribly wrong, and they are sent to reform school. It is here that they are subject to cruel sexual and physical abuse by some of the Warders.

What attracted me to Sleepers in particular was how his fictionalisation of his characters through name changes absolves him of any legal responsibility. For all intents and purposes it appears that the book, although believably a true story, suddenly becomes a work of fiction and can be argued as such. As a result I have altered some of the names in my work also, not only to protect others, but in order to protect myself also.

A Safe Place is the prequel to Sleepers and tells the story of his childhood, growing up with a violent father who he discovers murdered his first wife.

Behind every powerful story is usually an equally powerful back-story. On An Isle Called Rotoroa  is my backstory.  Lorenzo Garcaterra is an accomplished writer, one I would very much like to emulate, in terms of the power of his story-telling.

Carcaterra, L. (1995) Sleepers New York, Ballantine Books

Inspiring voices (2)

A Child Called ‘It’, The Lost Boy, A Man Named Dave Autobiographical trilogy by Dave Pelzer

This trilogy tells the story of a boy who was, at the time, considered one of the top ten of the worst child abuse cases in U.S.A.., the second book detailing his rescue from his abusive mother into foster care, and the third detailing his transition into adulthood.

This is a chilling story. The first time I read it I was blown away by the incredible events of cruelty and abuse that took place in this boy’s life. But as I took a critical overview of the book and the writing itself, it helped me to focus deeper on my own writing, and what I want it to say.

I am not using Pelzer’s trilogy as a model for mine. My research into his writing left me with a feeling more of ‘how not to write mine’. Pelzer tends to overemphasise and can be at times melodramatic (in a story that undoubtedly is incredibly dramatic without the emphasis), can be overly sentimental in the telling of the story at times.

I have discovered over the years, the power of understatement, and the ‘showing’ of the story without having to always ‘tell’ so much, or without commentating too heavily about it. This is how I want to write my books.


Pelzer, D.  (2009)  My Story (trilogy)  London, Orion Publishers

Inspiring voices (1)

My trilogy was inspired by the responses I received to my portfolio in a non-fiction studio four years ago, and is an extension of that work, although far more in depth. In my collection of non-fiction stories I covered issues such as addiction, my sexuality, and the impact mental illness had on me, and my best friend.

I gave a copy to my then-psychiatrist, who was so impressed that he ordered fifteen copies, followed by more orders, for him to distribute to his patients as well as his entire team of mental health workers. Very quickly I began to receive requests from other corners. This was when I realised that my private sales were being spurred on by something more than the sympathetic charity of friends or family, because almost all had been to strangers.

I had a story. A story of trauma, addiction and mental collapse.  A story of all the indicators that he brought me there.  A story, of stories which I had struggled with in my head for many many years. But ultimately a story of recovery.  Confessional memoir writing is an enlightening experience - suddenly I was seeing answers to the many questions in my life, being answered by me on the page.

I began reading more, looking for inspiration from other writers. One writer in particular that made an impact to my approach is Mary Karr, author of The Liar’s Club – A Memoir by Mary Karr

The blurb on the back cover reads:

‘…Mary Karr grew up in a swampy East Texas refinery town at the epicentre of a family full of fierce, volatile attachments. To sort through dark household secrets she looks back through a child’s eyes - and shows us ‘a terrific family of liars and drunks…redeemed by a slow unearthing of truths’ in language reinvented with raw authenticity and brilliant energy…’

This book does not demand sympathy, and slides episodes of sexual abuse into the mix as though it is not the dominant story, just a piece of the puzzle.  It is an honest and inspiring read.




... The Liars’ Club, Karr’s 1995 memoir of her Gothic childhood in a swampy East Texas oil-refining town, won the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for First Nonfiction, sold half a million copies, and made its forty-year-old author, who was then an obscure poet, a literary celebrity. (The book takes its title from the motley collection of men with whom her father, an oilman, used to drink and tell tales.) Karr has been credited with, and often blamed for, the onslaught of confessional memoirs published during the late nineties. Though many of them matched The Liars’ Club for grotesque subject matter—the young Karr is raped, molested, and made to witness her mother’s monstrous nervous breakdown—few were as unsentimental, as lyrical, or as mordantly funny....
http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/5992/the-art-of-memoir-no-1-mary-karr


Karr, M. (1995) The Liars Club New York, Penguin Group

The truth will set you free...

In this first book from the trilogy I investigate and relay different versions of the truth – what I had always believed to be true as a child, what actually was the truth, and of course what the management at rehab expected me to portray as true, with regards to concealing the true nature of my sexuality from the other patients. 

As time passes on the island and I listen to the stories of others, I find myself drawing closer and closer to the core of my own traumas.  ‘The Major’ becomes concerned and refers me to one of the other staff for more intensive counseling.   This triggers an intense depression and a visiting doctor prescribes me with anti-depressants. 

My new counselor has credibility that stems from personal experience of addiction and he shows a non-judgemental approach to my homosexuality.  But the more he encourages me to face my demons, the more frightened of exposing them I become.  I find myself propelled back to a horrific night when I was fourteen but I am so ashamed, I find it impossible to relay the experience to the counselor.   Instead, I concoct an alternate scenario of sexual abuse.  I do so with the hope that any advice he gives me, can be applied to the real scenario, but without me having to confront the true story of what had actually happened to me.

My experience of rehab is rapidly becoming a cacophony of untruths.  Given that it is expected of me by management to lie about my sexuality, the burden of lies is not one I must carry on my own – the management are also guilty of hiding the truth.

I learn more about the chequered history of Rotoroa Island, from a patient who is also called Ivan.  He has been ‘held’ on the island for over twenty years under ‘The Act’.  He tells me  more about Rotoroa’s past – fires, escapes, a sinking of the ferry which resulted in the loss of lives, and relationships between staff and patients. 

But my biggest discovery is that Craig McCafferty, the former Super-intendant of the island (who interviewed me for referral to detox in the first place) was guilty of dipping his hands into the patient’s funds.  Though it had cost him his position, and he was stripped of his uniform, this issue was dealt with internally and swept under the carpet.

I consider my own experience of growing up as a child of Salvation Army officers, and sift through the many lies and deception that took place behind the scenes in our household.  What we presented from the front door as a family was in stark contrast to how the family truly presented behind the safety of closed doors.


Truth is like the town whore.  Everybody knows her, but nonetheless, it's embarrassing to meet her on the street.
Wolfgang Borchert - The Outsider

Creative Writing Practices – What kind of work is this book?

On an Isle Called Rotoroa, and indeed the complete trilogy of books that make up The Sound of Broken Voices is first and foremost a memoir.

Definition of memoir

noun     - a historical account or biography written from personal knowledge or special sources: in 1924 she published a short memoir of her husband

  - (memoirs) an autobiography or a written account of one’s memory of certain events or people...

http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/american_english/memoir

 

This work falls under the postmodern banner, as a piece of Gay Literature, although this is due mainly to the fact that the narrator of the story is gay, not because it is a gay story. 

Gay literature has become a powerful voice in very recent years and is making a mark as a distinctive form of cultural expression in the world.  Historically, writers of gay literature have traditionally been shunned, and  rebuked.  They have been arrested, charged and convicted in obscenity trials around the world.  They have been labelled and protested about, as deviants and perverts.  They have been  forced to write in coded fashions.   Gay literature for many years, in many corners of the world, has been censored, banned, burned or destroyed, and punishable by prison, or incarceration in mental hospitals.

     It is theoretically correct to look at gay literature under the wider umbrella of post-colonialism, in the context that homosexuals (and homosexual writers) have for centuries have been disenfranchised members of society, disadvantaged and discriminated against.  In my writing I show the differences in pre-law reform New Zealand and post-law reform.

 My work also falls under that category (Postcolonialism) as it offers a Pakeha (non-Maori) child’s perspective of growing up in Postcolonial New Zealand, in stories that illustrate a context and environment which is at times almost as colonial in its attitudes, as it is post-colonial.   To me perspective is a key feature of memoir writing, and this must always be taken into account by the reader.

The role The Salvation Army play in this work, is also reminiscent of the days of early missionaries in early post-European Aotearoa-New Zealand.

Funding hurdles

A disappointing blow to my project today.  The Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand has opened this year for applications for $16000.00 worth of media grants.  Unfortunately, unlike previous years, this year the grants are not available to creative writers like myself, but are set aside for journalist projects exclusively.

      Writing a book is bloody hard work.  I have spent the last four years of my life studying for my degree in creative writing (two years full-time, two years part-time), so I could learn the craft and deliver my story in the most effective way.  In that time I’ve funded myself by getting up at 3.30am five days a week to sort mail, and have taken on second jobs, which means I am taxed at the highest  rate and pay full repayment rates on my student loan, irrespective of the fact that my two jobs put together do not even come close to meeting the average income in this country.  But there is much more to writing a book than the physical funding of it. 

     There are endless hours of research, of gathering information, or interviewing others in order to make sure that you are accurate with dates, settings, etc.   There are sleepless nights, where it seems you can’t turn the words or ideas off, no matter how late it gets or how badly you need to sleep.  There are times when the subject matter and memories can reduce you to tears, and other times that leave you laughing or feeling warm with nostalgia.  There are the days we yearn to return to, and other days we had vowed never to revisit.  There are the difficult questions and the sometimes even more difficult answers. 

     But there are the rewards.  There are those moments when we see evidence of growth or learning staring back at us in words we have written.  There are the times when our words connect with a stranger and moves them, and has an impact in their own life.  There is the reward of knowing that the story has a happy ending and important messages to tell, to those that may still be stuck in the mires of depression, addiction, or abusive situations. 

    While there was never a guarantee that I would be awarded a grant, I had been preparing for this opportunity for several months, and more intensively in recent weeks, securing letters of recommendation etc and had identified areas where I could make use of the money if I had it.  First and foremost would have been the purchase of a laptop.  I have a (now very outdated) computer, on its last legs, which has never been connected to the internet.  Sometimes I wonder how I have managed to get this far through my degree, relying only on library computers.  Secondly I had hoped to make a series of research trips in coming months to interview people and visit locations that are more pertinent in the later books, but will have to come up with new ideas to generate the income to do this.

     To all the people who have helped and supported me with the writing of this trilogy so far, I give my commitment to seeing this project through regardless of any impediments that may come along.  I thank everyone for believing in me and this project, and rest assured – to the first one hundred people who have liked my page ‘The Sound of Broken Voices’ – you will not be the last one hundred people to like it.  I have an important story to tell, and I am going to tell it. 

Settings in the book

Rotoroa Island, New Zealand, is the dominant setting in this book, but there are several other settings that give background and context to the story.  Some of these include:

Hamilton, New Zealand

-          Te Kowhai – a small community west of Hamilton where I live from the ages of 9 – 17.

-          I am living at my brother John’s house in Hamilton City prior to my entry to rehab.

-          The Nest,  a Salvation Army run orphanage where my sister Mary works during the early 80’s, and where I spend an unforgettable weekend at age 11.

Newcastle, NSW, Australia

-          It is here I develop an IV habit to Speed.

-          It is here where I finally accept my sexuality (I leave NZ at 18 to hide from my family)

-          It is here where I meet my first boyfriend

-          I am living here when Newcastle experiences Australia’s only recorded earthquake that has casualties, 27/12/89

 

 

Other locations from my childhood (all in New Zealand) include:

-          Woodville 1971 -1974

-          Oxford 1975

-          Wellington 1976

-          Kerikeri 1976

-          Waipukurau 1976 – 77

-          Waipawa 1977 – 79

These are towns in which my family live during the first ten years of my life and will appear in flashbacks.  They are evidence of an unsettled childhood and reveal the reasons for the continual change of locations (escaping from my mother’s numerous extra-marital affairs as well as a shameful withdrawal from the Salvation Army).

Characters (3)

Craig McCafferty: In the book Craig conducts my interview for me to go to rehab. After a short period of time on Rotoroa I discover he was the former Superintendant of the island. It was alleged that he had been caught dipping his hands into the patient's funds. He was stripped of his post and his Salvation Army uniform... But his indiscretions were dealt with internally.

The 'Major': The Major is the Program Director, and my Group Therapist on the island. He calls me to his office on my first day on the island and requests that I keep my homosexuality a secret from the other patients as they might feel threatened by my status. In turn, I go one step further, as I begin the charade of 'editing' my life. In order to manipulate the staff and management, I claim to have found my Higher Power, I join 'The Rotoroa Island Singers' who perform in chapel every week, I play the organ for chapel services, attend Bible class, and become the President of the Patient's Committee.

Hippie Andrew: I meet Hippie Andrew in detox in Auckland, on the mainland and we share a dormitory with two others, for the first few days. He is artistic, and a Vegan, and he has a clash of ideologies with the staff and the religious flavour of the treatment. We form a close bond. He does a home-made tattoo of magic mushrooms on my shoulder as a birthday gift in the first week we are on the island.

Leon: Leon is the first person I meet upon arrival in detox. He is also in our dormitory. At detox, Leon takes me under his wing. He organises cannabis for the boys in our dorm to take to Rotoroa Island with us. He is detected upon arrival and is taken back to the mainland to face charges.

The Stutterer: The Stutterer is a member of my therapy group, and has harrowing stories of what led to her alcoholism. She displays a remarkable quality - her stuttering ceases whenever she is either crying, or singing (she is in 'The Rotoroa Island Singers' alongside me.

Characters - (2) Ruth

My mother is a key character in all parts of the story. An unconventional co-dependent and dysfunctional relationship between my mother and myself is displayed throughout.

She is an alcoholic, and addicted to copious prescription medications. Ruth survives several medical emergencies, including a couple of suicide attempts.

My early memories of her describe a capable and respected Corps Officer (Minister) of the Salvation Army alongside my father, an accomplished columnist, orator, and a creative and artistic woman. This book will relay the story behind our withdrawal from the Salvation Army, as a young family (Ruth was having an affair with one of the congregation), the development of her alcoholism from that point..... and it’s far reaching impact).

Characters - My family

My family will appear moreso in the flashbacks while on the island, in stories that give light to an unsettled childhood, but will also feature 'in the now' of the book.

EXTRACT:

'... I was the youngest of three children. Mary was the oldest and seven years older than me. She was big, tall and clumsy and had worn thick rimmed glasses for as long as I could remember. She had always seemed like an adult to me.

...But it was Mary who carried the most responsibility being the eldest. She helped Mum at home the most, as though she was practicing for her own stint as a housewife. Mary was delegated with lots of chores. She prepared vegetables for dinner but it didn’t excuse her from the dishes. She assisted with the washing and ironing. She had helped with the changing, bathing and feeding of me when I was a baby.

I can remember how Mary spent hours reading to me before I started school, teaching me how to write and showing me how to colour in pictures without going over the lines. I loved having her for a big sister. I knew that I would always be safe and looked after by her. Sometimes though, when she had to take me to the shops with her she’d pretend to be Mum.

‘It’s rude to stare, Ivan. Stop that!’ she’d say in a posh and pious voice. I’d look up at her puzzled. I hadn’t been staring at anything.

‘I wasn’t,’ I’d insist.

‘Don’t answer back or I will have to smack you! I am in charge and you were staring - I saw you. And now you’ve just told a lie as well. Now stop arguing, stop dawdling and hurry up! Do you want a smack for walking too slow as well?’

I’d button my lips. There was nothing I could say that would shift Mary from her role-playing. All grown-ups were bossy at times. Mary was no different....

 

My parents, and my sister, brother and myself 1972

Landmark moments in New Zealand

Dear friends. A milestone was passed in New Zealand parliament last month. The Marriage (Definition of Marriage) Amendment Bill passed its first reading with 80 MPs voting for, and 40 against. The Bill, if it becomes law, will afford the same marriage and adoption rights to same-sex couples in New Zealand. I watched the debate live on Parliament TV, and shed tears as I remembered the road we have travelled to get this far. As a forty three year old gay New Zealander I long remember the ugly days of our past. 
Last year in a writing class I was asked to come up with a lsit of landmark moments in New Zealand's history, and then to write about the one which affected me the most.  Here is what I came up with: 

Twenty landmark moments in NZ history

Amongst many other landmark moments...

1) 1769 – Captain Cook maps the entire coastline of New Zealand

2) 1840 – Te Tiriti o Waitangi / The Treaty of Waitangi is signed

3) 1893 – Women get the vote (a world first)

4) 1894 – Elizabeth Yates becomes Mayor of Onehunga, the first woman mayor in British empire.

5) 1898 – the Old Age pension Act came into effect (A world first)

6) 1899 – Introduction of eight hour working day (a world-first)

7) 1931 – Devestating earthquake in Napier, 7.8, killing 256 people

8) 1953 – Edmund Hillary conquers Mount Everest (a world first)

9) 1953 – New Zealand’s worst rail disaster killing 151 people on Christmas Eve

10) 1960 – Television comes to New Zealand

11) 1967 – New Zealand’s currency goes decimal

12) 1967 – Bars extend their closing time from six o’clock until ten o’clock, ending a period referred to as ‘six o’clock swill’

13) 1968 – Wahine disaster. 51 people drown when the interislander ferry sinks at the entrance to Wellington harbour

14) 1974 – Prime Minister Norman Kirk dies in office

15)  1985 – The Rainbow Warrior is attacked by French terrorists.

16) 1986 – Homosexuality is decriminalised in New Zealand amidst huge opposition.

17) 1987 – New Zealand becomes nuclear-free

18) 1993 – Mixed member proportional representation (MMP) voting system is introduced

19) 2004 – The Civil Union Act provides processes by which two people of the same or of different gender, can be officially recognised as being in a civil union

20) 2011 – A powerful 6.3 earthquake in Christchurch kills 182 people and decimates the city.

nations and judgments - the Salvation Army and Rotoroa Island have their own stories to tell. While the title of the book suggests that the book is about a stint in rehab, (and it partly is) the rehab narrative is largely a vehicle to relay the story of my childhood and adolescence. There are embedded narratives in the main body of the work that are told in the form of flashbacks, prompted by things that trigger memories.
'The truth will set you free' is an oft-used slogan on Rotoroa Island. But on my first day, the Program Manager takes me aside and insists that I don't disclose my homosexuality to anyone while I am on the island. In a place where we are expected to face our demons I find myself having to edit my life from the start. This is the beginning of many lies that are told during this book, in order to protect the truth.

But the truth has a way of rearing it's ugly head, and all is revealed in this gripping Memoir nations and judgments - the Salvation Army and Rotoroa Island have their own stories to tell. While the title of the book suggests that the book is about a stint in rehab, (and it partly is) the rehab narrative is largely a vehicle to relay the story of my childhood and adolescence. There are embedded narratives in the main body of the work that are told in the form of flashbacks, prompted by things that trigger memories.
'The truth will set you free' is an oft-used slogan on Rotoroa Island. But on my first day, the Program Manager takes me aside and insists that I don't disclose my homosexuality to anyone while I am on the island. In a place where we are expected to face our demons I find myself having to edit my life from the start. This is the beginning of many lies that are told during this book, in order to protect the truth.

But the truth has a way of rearing it's ugly head, and all is revealed in this gripping Memoir

'Go back into the sewers where you come from ... as far as I'm concerned you can stay in the gutter.'

'Turn around and look at them ... gaze upon them ... you're looking into Hades ... don't look too long – you might catch AIDS.'

Member of Parliament Norman Jones addressing a public meeting in 1985 LAGANZ 0080-B, Peter Nowland Collection

http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/culture/homosexual-law-reform/reforming-the-law

Here is an extract that recalls the ‘ugly’ years, when homosexuality itself was still a crime in New Zealand, and the experiences I went through as a teenager trying to process my sexuality, 25 years ago.

My book On an Isle Called Rotoroa is set against a backdrop of some New Zealand moments in history. But when I was asked to choose ONE of my identified moments from my list, and how it affected me, this is what I came out with, and now forms part of the book.

Extract from ‘The Sound of Broken Voices’ by Ivan James Miller.

‘…Homosexuality was rarely brought up in our household. In fact, in 1970’s New Zealand it was rarely spoken about at all, generally, unless it was in a negative context. My father seemed very uncomfortable even talking about it. Homosexual men were still being imprisoned. Some that may have approached their doctor, or Minister for guidance may have had psychiatric treatment advised, including electro-convulsive therapy, and aversion therapy.

I learnt from an early age that it was sick, perverse, unnatural, immoral, illegal, but above all a sin worthy of all God’s might and retribution. God had even destroyed a city full of them with fire and brimstone. I had never met a ‘real-life’ homosexual and wasn’t entirely sure that they even existed. On TV they sometimes were portrayed in sit-coms, usually as limp-wristed, flamboyant ‘Nancy-boys’, like Mr Humphries on Are you being served?

One day when I was sixteen, I had just finished a piano lesson with my teacher, Rona, when my father pulled up in his car, to collect me. Rona followed me out to the car, carrying a clipboard.

‘Mr Miller,’ she said. ‘I know you’re a church-going man. I wondered if you would like to sign this?’ Rona handed the clipboard to him.
‘What is it?’ Dad asked.
‘I’ll let you read it,’ she replied, then half-whispering, ‘I don’t like to say the words.’

Dad quickly scanned it, before holding the pen firmly and signing it.

‘You’re sixteen, now,’ he said, passing the clipboard over to me. ‘You can sign it too.

I took a quick look at the document. It was a petition to the government opposing plans to decriminalise homosexuality. I felt my face go hot, beads of sweat forming in the hair-line. I stared at the paper so hard that the words went blurry as I signed it, handing it back to Rona, avoiding eye-contact with them both.

I couldn’t discuss my homosexuality with anyone. I couldn’t talk to anyone in my family (least of all my parents). It was not covered in sex education at school, nor was it brought up in youth group at church. My guidance counsellor at school belonged to our church and knew our family so he was out of the question. There were no books that I knew of that spoke in any way about homosexuality and even if such books existed, how could I get my hands on it? I couldn’t take it out at the library. I certainly couldn’t buy anything like that.

I imagined how life for me would be - a life of being ostracised and isolated, having to ‘move on to a different town’ every time I was at risk of being discovered. I wondered when the inevitable day would come, when I would develop paedophile instincts, which everybody knew found it’s roots in the homosexual deviants. I pictured myself, old, frail, exposing myself to children in the park from behind a heavy over-coat.

Amidst huge opposition The Homosexual Law Reform Act was passed on the ninth of July, 1986 decriminalising homosexuality and discrimination on the basis of sexuality. Inwardly I rejoiced. I was no longer doomed for prison. But it was going to take a lot more than a law change for society to change it’s attitudes. It was going to take time…’


In some respects, we are still fighting the battle to reach equality and liberation. We have come a long way, but we're not there yet!