"The Story"

Before I begin this blog entry I will preface it with a little back story. When I was in grade nine; a mere freshman in high school; I met someone who has become one of my dearest friends. Rachel and I met via another friend, but not before I had heard for months other people speaking her name. I was curious who this person was, and one day...very unexpectedly our paths crossed. A mutual friend introduced us - she remarked on a folder cover I had that had a Duran Duran photograph on it and a friendship was struck, over Duran Duran. And that is where this story, about "The Story" begins.

Once upon a time; back in a year known as 1985; one of the biggest bands known as Duran Duran were hitting the airwaves and climbing the music charts. Five strikingly handsome young men, all unique in their appearance and with an abundance of talent. Each with their own ability to make women swoon, scream and have a sexual awakening. With the likes of Simon, John, Nick, Roger and Andy - I can assure you they were for many their first love, their first sexual self exploration. And I was no exception.

Before "fan fiction" had an actual name (as far as I am aware), people were writing stories about those actors/musicians/people they fantasied about. I was one of these people. Having decided that someday I (among several hundred, even thousands of others) was clandestined to meet John Taylor of Duran Duran (and the rest of the guys of course) - I decided I was going to write a story about meeting them, falling in love, getting married and in great, vivid Technicolour detail about a mad passionate love affair or affairs (in somecases...) or Ménage à trois, quatre, etc, etc, etc. We met, had affairs with, married, had kids, entered rehab, left rehab, got divorced and got married again...not to mention murders, rapes, blackmail and intrigue. But...not just involving myself and Duran...I decided to bring Rachel along for the ride as well.

Rachel was one of my few friends who enjoyed Duran the way I did, and I remember when I first wrote my first chapter (where my passion for writing truly began). I showed it to her with great trepidation and hesitancy. What if she thought it sucked? What if she thought it was stupid and I a moron for even having the notion of writing such a frank, blunt and very graphic detailed story to begin with. Although it didn't start out that way...in fact...for the first 4 or 5 pages it was all quite innocent and it was us meeting Wham! at first and then progressively meeting Duran. And then....it all got very interesting, convoluted and in some cases a might perverse. To my thrill and surprise...Rachel not only loved what I wrote, and more importantly how I wrote...but encouraged me to write more.

So I did. I wrote so much more that it consumed me. I wrote during classes, during lunch, before and after school, while watching television, while driving to piano on Fridays, while at my Dad's...it didn't matter. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Some asked what I was writing, some people I told, others I didn't dare. Some were intrigued, others didn't care. At one point I felt it was being shoved too much too the limelight and people wanted to be a part of it. I didn't want that. I wanted only Rachel and I to know about it...so I said I had quit...just like that...cold turkey...and like a hidden decadence I stowed it away in my hiding place in my room under my dresser. Until one day, I came home and it wasn't there...it was sitting in plain sight on my bed which had freshly bought and laundered sheets and a new comforter. It was obvious my Mom had been in my room and thought she was being "helpful" and cleaned and vacuumed my room to go with my new sheets and comforter. She confronted me about my deviant little secret; which she had read; cover to cover (that was now upwards of 300+ pages at that point) and her only pearls of wisdom was "I'd be careful with that if I were you".

I coveted this journey I had taken myself and Rachel on. I lost myself within it's pages and fantasy. It was my own little coke habit, and in retrospect there were parts of the story that were very true (from what I understand now) of the life and times of Duran Duran from that era. Knowing what I wrote, and how it all actually played out for Duran Duran...its very surreal actually.

It all came to a screeching halt however. I had managed in 2 years time to write upwards of 600 pages, until one fateful weekend my sister and I went to our fathers house. He had been away on business, come home on the train for a week, rented a car and was on his way back to Montreal at the end of the weekend when he dropped us off. I got out of the car, took my stuff inside, said good by to my Father and waved goodbye as he drove away. I went to take my stuff up to my room and in that moment realized that my entire life, my entire story, my entire work was gone in the backseat of my Dad's rental car. I hope whomever cleaned out the car upon it's return enjoyed the saga of my writings.

I'm thankful I wrote what I did, I'm not embarrassed by it (Although I likely would be if any member of Duran Duran ever read it - it was quite explicit) and I know that there was writing in it that for my age was damn good story telling. It was my "grass roots" so to speak of the passion and fire I have now for writing. So I'm thankful and glad that I had that experience. Without it, I wouldn't be where I am now.

So, there you have it Hazel, since this entry was for you...that's "The Story".

One Last Glimpse,

~K