Risen From Prison. Bosco H. C. Poon

full time with the help of Miss Mary after graduating high school. Without a whole lot of musical background besides the violin lessons that I took in primary school, I was definitely going to be swimming upstream. Since I wasn’t going into any recognized music college, most people thought the whole thing was a joke.

      However, my parents responded differently. They were ecstatic that I was distancing myself from the rough crowd I’d been hanging around with at the end of high school and was setting my sights on a concrete goal. While many parents would consider shooting for a career in the music industry a longshot—like trying to make the NHL or something—from my parents’ perspective, it was way healthier than hanging out with guys who spent their time organizing parties and getting high, so they were very supportive. They decided that they would provide for me financially for the full duration of the 18-month program that Miss Mary had tailored. The program included vocal training; body gesture and modelling training; physical training; dancing and on-stage training; and audition training.

      In order to focus on my work, I would have to completely withdraw from the party scene, which, at the time, represented a sacrifice because I knew that this would alienate me from my closest friends. But I had to do it—this was my one chance, and there may never be another window of opportunity. Furthermore, I needed to sober up and embrace a fairly disciplined lifestyle because I would have to get up early and work all day in the years to come. I needed to look good too, so this meant exercising regularly as part of a physical training program. There was no room for goofing off anymore.

      At first it seemed to be a huge personal sacrifice to miss all the fun. For a while, my friends would continue to call and ask me to join them, but after I had said “No thanks” a few too many times, the calls petered out, and the phone was pretty much silent. Compared to my former life, I felt like I had entered a monastery or something—to bed early, up early, working all day, structure, discipline, and practice—and all this while daydreaming about getting high, especially on the weekends, when I knew all my buddies were out clubbing. I would stare at the microphone on its stand, the symbol of all that I wanted to be and become, and with that meditation I would find strength to resist the party scene. Gradually I overcame it completely and defeated the feelings of loneliness by fixating on the promise of a brighter day ahead.

      Even though I wasn’t endowed with the kind of undiscovered angelic voice you might see on a viral YouTube video, I strived to learn how to become a professional performer and to create a unique style that would capture the interest of my audience. During that time, not only was I working on music, but I was also working very hard on physical fitness because it is part of the work of a live stage performer. I woke up bright and early in the morning to run laps and went swimming in the afternoon. I took dance classes, went to stage performance boot camp, and three times a week worked out in the gym. I had vocal lessons once a week with Miss Mary and practised vocals all week at home. I worked fairly unrelentingly, and there were many days when I just wanted to sleep in ’cause it was pouring rain outside. But every time a voice from within would pull me out of bed and remind me that I had a goal and I wanted to achieve it. My imagination was not going to make my career. I had to do it.

      Everyone around me knew about my plans too—because it was nearly all I talked about—and I wanted to show them that I wasn’t all talk. I wanted them to see my drive in the efforts that I was making. In the back of my head, I would hear all of those questions of self-doubt: Who do you think you are, some kind of prodigy? Do you really think you’re going to be able to do this? What if you’re a total failure? You will have wasted all this time and energy, and you’ll look like some kind of idiot wannabe to all your friends.

      I struggled a lot. While many of my schoolmates were either studying at college or finding a job that could provide a substantial living, I was chasing after my dream without an income. But I would tell myself that if I didn’t try, I wouldn’t succeed, and somehow I just kept chipping away at it. Training myself day after day, fixing my eyes on the goal, hoping that one day it’d all pay off.

      Eventually, Miss Mary thought I should give a crack at a public performance. It was a talent show hosted by the Yaohan Centre in Richmond, BC, and the radio station AM1470. All the local Chinese media were advertising this event, so my master-teacher Mary wanted to put my newly acquired skills to the test. I was so nervous!

      “Listen, kid, don’t let it get into your head. There are going to be a lot of people there, but the more aware that you become of them, the more they will be aware that you are nervous. Audiences like confidence, not nerves. Even though you may be trembling inside, never show it on your face. Remember everything that I taught you.”

      “Yeah … but how do I make myself confident when I’m not?” I replied.

      “Are you nervous in the studio?”

      “No.”

      “So you have to make yourself feel like you are in the studio. The way to do that is to imagine the people as just part of a backdrop—like they were painted on a big tapestry or something. They are just scenery. You need to turn them into scenery in your head.”

      “I’m not sure it’s that easy.”

      “Trust me, you will get there, and the more confident you are, the better time your audience will be having and the better time you will be having. Remember, this is what you want to do. This is your dream, so go get it!”

      The pep talk didn’t really work. My hands were shaking so badly that I ended up stuffing them in the pockets of my yellow hoodie. Not only that; I was just soaked in sweat. It was dripping down my forehead, and I could feel the beads piling up and running down the small of my back. I’m just glad I wasn’t wearing a dress shirt, because it would have been soaking wet and sticking to my skin. No surprise, I didn’t place in the competition, but I had conquered my first public performance, and that gave me some sense of accomplishment.

      As time passed, I got to perform more often. What used to be a very nerve-racking experience began to feel quite comfortable, and as this happened, I began to fall in love with the stage. The whole thing became addictive—the spotlights on me, the sound of applause, the larger-than-life feeling. I loved it all.

      _______

      Sitting by the windows of the Fairways Grill & Patio up at the Westwood Plateau Golf Club on a hot summer day, I felt a dark cloud hovering over our table. We had just received a call early that morning from our management overseas to arrange an emergency meeting. Our downcast faces stood in contrast to the spectacular view of the sunlit ridge visible from our seats. After months of training and relentless practice, our record deal had all but evaporated.

      “What’s going on? This is crazy! I thought we were going to sign the contracts next month? I thought everything was in place.” Joe was getting really angry.

      “I know! What the heck? He promised us everything. First album coming out before Christmas … all lies! All this work we’ve done—all for nothing? This is BS!” James lit up his smoke.

      “This is ridiculous! I can’t believe it …” I was trying to digest what I’d just heard over the phone.

      “He even told me I should drop out of university. Good thing I didn’t listen to him. I’d be so screwed otherwise!” Joe hit the table with his fist.

      “And luckily I still have my business running. He told me to give up everything here too. Well, what are we going to do with this group now? It’s over, right?” James picked up his lemonade.

      “I don’t know, man … We still need to tell the other three what’s going on. I wonder how they’re gonna react. But before we do anything, let me make a follow-up call and see if this deal is really over. Maybe there’s still hope.” I sighed.

      In 2001, an agent from MTV Taiwan came to Vancouver in search of young talent for a new boy band. They wanted to form a Chinese version of NSYNC. I was selected at the interview along with Joe, Kenny, Abraham, Wilson, and James—all my music friends. This experience gave me confidence that we were really going to make something of ourselves.

      The agent promised us a lot of things. However, after