Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we're told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they're given. This week he talks to Tara Moss. The Canadian-Australian author, 46, has published 13 books in 19 countries across 13 languages. Her latest is the historical crime novel Dead Man Switch. The paranormal-themed The Cobra Queen is out in March.
Tara Moss: “I love being an author; it’s why I keep going back to it.”
SEX
By the time you were having sex, did you feel adequately prepared for it?
Well, I was excited about it! [Laughs] But probably like a lot of people, I knew more about relationships and sex from movies than real life. And the movies in the ’80s were not a great learning ground.
Such as, for example, John Hughes films?
More like other pop culture films, such as Ghostbusters, one of my favourite films of the ’80s. But the Bill Murray character – whom I loved – is creepy if you look back on it now. He kind of pushes into Sigourney Weaver’s apartment, she tells him to go away, he kind of pesters her – aggressively – and eventually she falls for him. Not particularly great.
True. What about your own work? What do you need to write a good sex scene?
Research is helpful. [Laughs] Thankfully, I have a willing and wonderful husband. But I do enjoy writing sex scenes; it’s an integral part of expressing a character. The way they are when they’re being intimate with someone says a lot.
You’ve been candid about your experience of sexual assault. Have you any advice for other survivors on safely reconnecting with their sexuality as they heal and recover?
The best thing is to get professional advice. Sexual violence really is life-changing. You deserve a healthy sex life that makes you happy, and it can be difficult to return to that. My personal advice? Take your time. Know it’s okay if you don’t feel safe or trust people right away. That’s natural, that’s normal. Don’t push yourself. Make sure you love your body first before you expect someone else to.
MONEY
You’ve worked as a model, author, broadcaster and academic. Have I missed anything?
Public speaker. Advocate. Documentary maker. Just a few hats. But I like a good hat.
What’s been the best job?
I love being an author; it’s why I keep going back to it. I’ve wanted to be an author since I was a little girl. It’s my best job because it’s my dream job.
What’s been the worst?
Some modelling situations I was put in were just outrageous. Having to get changed in a stinky little car in the Reeperbahn, Hamburg’s red-light district, while people leered at me. On another shoot, the photographer brought some vodka out, even though I was too young to drink. I asked where everyone else was. He said it was “just you and me”. The red flashing signs started coming up, and he came over with this book and said, “Oh, here’s some shots I want to do with you.” They were pornographic images.
Oh god.
I said, “Nup,” and got up and started to gather my things. He lunged at me. He’d been drinking; I gave him a good right hook.
Amazing.
He hit the concrete floor with a slap and I ran out with all my stuff. I was kind of relieved when I heard from the modelling agency the next day that I hadn’t killed him! [Laughs] But the agency blew it off. “Oh, you’re so pretty, I bet that happens all the time.” I was like, “This is not okay.” The agency did look down on me for having fled that photo shoot. But I was a lucky one.
Nowadays, what do you spend too much money on?
Vintage [clothing], but I stand by my decision! I love it, and they’re such steals. I feel I need to adopt them. But I’ve ended up with an attic full of old things.
What are you a tight-arse over?
I don’t like paying for expensive meals; I find it a bit gross. I’d rather go out to a fabulous hole in the wall, I’ll have just as good a time. Another thing: hotels. I travel in a vintage caravan a lot of the time.
BODIES
Has modelling changed your relationship with your body?
There was a time when my modelling career gave me an unhealthy relationship with my body. I wasn’t raised feeling pressure about my weight or the way I looked, but then found myself in a world where you’re being weighed and measured. When I was maybe 17, I’d become “Paris thin” – as it was called at the time – and sent a picture back to my dad in Canada. He was really concerned. I had ribs showing. Cut cheekbones. It wasn’t my natural self. So I told the modelling agency to get stuffed and left them. I couldn’t have done that without having loving support from somewhere – in my case, from my dad.
How’s your health been lately?
Not great. I had a hip injury in 2016 that left me with chronic nerve pain and mobility problems. So I now use a walking stick on and off. It’s a changed body I’m living with, and my physical limitations and abilities are different.
Do you consider yourself a member of the disability community?
Yes, I’m a person with a disability now. It’s a thing to come to terms with, but one positive part of it has been finding others who’ve gone through similar things. I can’t recommend more highly, when you’re ready, to stop the urge to hide and deny, and be more open about your needs and situation. It was a very positive and powerful thing to finally realise, “So this is what’s happening now. It’s the way it is. Either embrace it or hide it.” And I’m not going to hide.
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