The Hungry Years

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The Hungry Years

By Paul McCann

Writing songs came to me as a gift in the beginning of the 1980’s . I could hear melodies in my head with lyrics already there . Usually 4 or 8 bars was what I received which was enough to get me started on the song . So I could write the lyrics around the melody I had in my head . I often wondered if everyone had this kind of jukebox in their head and still do I suppose . At this time I was in my early twenties and still living with my parents and sisters however I decided to make the break to venture out on my own . I felt I needed my own space where I could write and play the guitar without me interfering with and without anyone interfering with what I was doing .

I found my own little place in Pendle Hill and moved in there . I had a job as a car salesman at performance vehicles yard on the Parramatta Road in Granville which helped to pay my regular bills paid each week . I had my own office space there and on my lunch break I would always be writing some song lyrics . The owner of the car yard Bill Nicolson said to me one day ,

“I always see you writing on your lunch break .“

I told him I wrote songs and he asked if he could have a read .

He took what I had wrote that day and brought it not his office and after a while he asked me to come into his office .

I sat down in front him and he began talk .

“You know what I think you are a good writer and have what it takes . I would advice you to give more of your time to song writing. “

No one had ever gave ne any encouragement before so was slightly at a loss for words but replied .

“I would love to do that but I need to work to pay my bills “

He said ,

“All artists have had to suffer for their talent and I think you have at talent their. “

I thanked him for his appreciation and returned to work .

Over the next few days I gave a lot of thought to what he had said and made a decision . It made a lot of sense to me and so I handed in my resignation and left the job at the car yard and began writing full time at home.

Weeks turned into months and my collection of songs were growing . With most of my savings gone I resorted to busking my songs to make some extra cash .

Some evenings I went out to the local community for a little company . There was always something on every Friday there . I met an elderly lady who was an Irish   nun and we started talking about poetry and song . She mentioned she had been an English teacher before she retired and I told her I wrote some poems and songs .

She asked me if  I  would  let  her  read my  work and so I told her I would bring some of my material the following Friday . After  reading  them she asked me to take them to Patrick Meehan another English teacher who lived in the blue Mountains .

She gave me his address and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to look hm up .

I was also given a list of venues around Sydney where I could read my poetry which I also began to do . I started to meet a circle of people who frequented those venues and some of them worked on various radio  stations . They invited me on to their programs which was a platform for me to read  my  poetry  on  air . 

I  became a writers member of various group and organizations such as APRA , CAL  The  Poets  Union and the  Australian  Society  Of  Authors .\My material was being published in overseas magazines and I had a number of poetry columns in newspapers around New South Wales .

I started to win some awards and yet I never had earned a single dollar for any of my work . I hadn’t worked for a while and with little money in the bank I moved out of my little home in Pendle and stared backpacking around New South Wales .

The good thing as a write about that was I got to meet different people and see different places all the time .

I had sold my car and most of what I owned to continue this nomadic lifestyle as a writer .

I  did this for about three years until the poverty of it all started to get to me and the necessity of life became the mother of invention that pushed me back into thw rok force . I secured a job in a factory that made furniture . 

Father Tony Reynolds was a priest I had met and he offered me a room in his presbytery where he lived . I stayed for a little while there and saved some money form my job . Months passed and I had enough songs to fill a suitcase and decided to get away from Australia . With stars in my eyes and nothing to tie me down I travelled to London to try to get a break as a songwriter .

It was important  for  me  to  at least give it a  go so with a pocketful; of dreams off I went .

It was October 1989 when I landed in London and within a week I had become homeless due to the fact I had been robbed . Someone took my suitcase from the hotel room and in that was all my money , my passport and all  my clothes .

I was unable to pay my hotel bill and told to leave . With no family and no friends to support me I was in a hard place .Days passed without shelter or food . I found refuge in doorways and eat from garbage bins . I was really amazed at the food people would throw away .

Searching bins around take away food joints always provided some reward.

I have no idea of what I looked like but I knew I had lost a lot of weight . At night I slept in derelict buildings .

One evening a man lifted me from thew sidewalk and I was put into a van . The next day I awoke at the Salvation Army Refuge in Blackfrairs Road.

That morning I was given a bowl of porridge and I had a shave and a shower .

I stayed there for a little while until the wanderlust at my feet got the better of me and I left the refuge to find a job . Luckily I was able to get some work in a clothes warehouse ticketing prices on garments . I knew somehow I had to get my passport back and reclaim what was my life again .

For the next three hungry years I was in and out of homeless shelters . In and out of casual jobs . In and out of hospitals but eventually I was able to return to Australia .

In my suitcase I had reams of written poetry and songs as a kind of memento of my journey as an artist . I wonder if that was  what Bill Nicolson meant that day when he advised me to give my talent more time .

The End