Governor General's Literary Awards·Personal Essay

Li Charmaine Anne considers how our hobbies shape identity in new short story

Rock Star Dreaming and Comfortable Shoes is an original story by Li Charmaine Anne, winner of the 2024 Governor General's Literary Award for young people's literature — text. It is part of Mirrors, a special series of new, original writing by the 2024 Governor General's Literary Award winners.

Rock Star Dreaming and Comfortable Shoes is a story by the 2024 Governor General's Literary Award winner

An illustration of a character sitting at a table and seen from the back as they are facing shadows of silhouettes doing different hobbies
Rock Star Dreaming and Comfortable Shoes is an original short story by Li Charmaine Anne, winner of the 2024 Governor General's Literary Award for young people's literature — text. (Tenzin Tsering/CBC)

Rock Star Dreaming and Comfortable Shoes is an original short story by Li Charmaine Anne. It is part of Mirrors, a special series of new, original writing featuring work by the English-language winners of the 2024 Governor General's Literary Awards, presented in partnership with the Canada Council for the Arts

"[It's] a personal essay about the urge to define yourself through hobbies. We often associate certain hobbies with certain personalities, and young people like trying different hobbies to 'try on' different identities. 

"Hobbies can be seen as 'mirrors' we use to assess who we are (or at least who we want to appear as). I also loosely explore this theme in my book's Author's Note section, so I think it ties in nicely,'" Li Charmaine Anne told CBC Books

CBC's Radio One will host an episode featuring participants from this original series.

Li Charmaine Anne's YA novel Crash Landing won the 2024 Governor General's Literary Award for young people's literature — text. 

You can read more works from the Mirrors series here.


Rock Star Dreaming and Comfortable Shoes

When you're an only child, hobbies become your sibling playmate and I had many such siblings. In the beginning, there was drawing, reading and modelling clay. Then there was guitar, martial arts, skateboarding and snowboarding. I spent my teen years tabbing my favourite guitar solos by ear so I could become the next Guitar Cover Sensation. Or practicing (and failing) longboard tricks because I wanted to film and edit the Ultimate Longboard Cinematic Experience. (Yes, YouTube was a big influence on my Millennial upbringing.)

I never progressed to more than a beginner in these pursuits, but I'd stare out the car window with music videos running through my head. Those videos painted a far-off future in which I was a rock star playing lead guitar in some groundbreaking feminist outfit. But in reality, I pursued my teenage hobbies just enough to wear skinny jeans, skate shoes and Obscure Band T-shirts in good conscience. Because to be fake is to commit a cardinal sin in school hallway politics. Dress as a skater without skating and you are a Poser. 

Our preoccupation with these rules at that age is intriguing. I was often pursued by the anxiety that my hobbies were "inauthentic" expressions of identity. Looking back, I wonder what exactly I was aspiring to. I assume it was a better, "cooler," more punk-rock version of who I felt obligated to be: the A-getting, piano-practicing, Good Daughter of immigrant parents. In contrast, punk rock board sports people take risks, swear and go on the adventures I read about in the books I adored as a kid. So I adopted their uniform, their mannerisms, their "that's gnarly, bro!"

Then, over time, skinny jeans got loose. Skate shoes hurt to walk in. I went to university and became the archetypal hipster typing on a MacBook in an overpriced café. My organic identity — more independent of what my parents and peers influenced — gradually emerged: not as a van-camping, singer-songwriter, ski hill rat, but as a practical 9-to-5'er whose main concerns were the price of tofu and what podcast makes good house-cleaning music.

Looking back, I wonder what exactly I was aspiring to. I assume it was a better, "cooler," more punk-rock version of who I felt obligated to be: the A-getting, piano-practicing, Good Daughter of immigrant parents.

I think a big fear people in creative fields face is that of not being interesting. And so authors like me adopt personas like the characters we write about in our fiction. We yearn to be as brave and unconventional as the protagonists in our story arcs. I sometimes wonder if the real reason we write is to live vicariously through our characters … because we are afraid of living that way ourselves.

I type this essay in a café wearing comfortable hiking boots whose waterproofness makes them practical perfection on a wet Vancouver day. I imagine my fifteen-year-old self walking through the doors, feet proudly plugged into her rain-soaked, special-edition Chucks. She walks up to me with her nose upturned and asks me to describe myself as if I'm the protagonist of a book. I say, "I don't feel like much of a protagonist today, but try again tomorrow." She scowls. "I still skate, though," I say, smiling. "Started again recently. That's cool, isn't it?" She crosses her arms. "Can you kickflip?" "Not yet." She looks bored, but I can tell she's a little jealous of my banana bread.

One aspect of being a writer is the ability to imagine yourself in different lives. Maybe there's a universe where I'm an up-and-coming indie artist. But in this universe, I only hope to pursue my hobbies for as long as I'm able.

One aspect of being a writer is the ability to imagine yourself in different lives. Maybe there's a universe where I'm an up-and-coming indie artist. But in this universe, I only hope to pursue my hobbies for as long as I'm able. Not to fulfil some character ideal but because playing songs around a campfire with your friends satisfies a primal yearning I can't articulate in words. Someday, I'll become my teenage hero. Not because I'm Good At Stuff but because I figured out a way to enjoy my hobbies despite capitalist structures, social media algorithms and the price of tofu.

And to be honest, I think that's pretty gnarly.


About Li Charmaine Anne 

Crash Landing by Li Charmaine Anne. Illustrated cover shows a girl in the air on a skateboard. Headshot of an East Asian woman in a checkered shirt.
Crash Landing is a YA novel by Li Charmaine Anne. (Annick Press, Edward Chang)

Li Charmaine Anne is a writer with a BFA from the University of British Columbia in creative writing and English literature. Crash Landing is their debut novel. 


About the series Mirrors

An illustration of a silhouette staring at a mirror with two reflections looking back
Mirrors: A series to help us reflect on our lives, understand ourselves and see the world in new ways. (Tenzin Tsering/CBC)

The English-language books that won the 2024 Governor General's Literary Awards demonstrate how stories help us reflect on our lives, understand ourselves more deeply and see the world in new ways. 

CBC Books asked the winners to further explore the power of reflection in original works. The special series, themed around the theme of mirrors, challenges how we see ourselves and our society — unearthing hidden truths, exploring alternative identities and blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.

Rock Star Dreaming and Comfortable Shoes was Li Charmaine Anne's contribution to the series. 

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