The first play I did was a funny one called 'The School for Wives', by Moliere. We were wearing the ugliest wigs and the worst costumes you can ever imagine to try to recreate 17th-century France in Singapore. But I got my first real pay cheque from that. I was very happy taking that cheque to the bank.

My first pay cheque was when I was a security guard in a Benetton showroom, which was Rs 900. I took all my security guard friends for a treat to eat Chinese food and ended up spending my entire salary in just three days, leaving me with no choice but to rely on my friends for food for the entire month.

I don't see my artist friends as any more neurotic or addiction-prone than the others. The roommates I have had who were into triathlons or environmentalism were just as crazy as the poets, just as prone to tears over gardening or air conditioners, just as ready to kite a cheque or binge on cookie dough.

I've tried open-ended jobs and found myself incredibly unhappy. I don't like the monomania of showing up every day and doing the same thing. I don't know where my next cheque is coming from, I don't know where my next job is coming from, I have really sketchy health insurance, but I need variety in my life.

Largely this is a class thing - writers tend to be cosseted little middle-class kiddies who think that the world owes them a royalty cheque. But just doing it - being in your room for years on end, locked in your head, alone with invented ghosts - it weakens and softens the body. And I know I can't just live in my head.

In one week, I went from being a girl who owed a guy thousands of dollars - my manager Anthony was paying for my outfits, paying for my food; I was sleeping in his parents' basement - to taking meetings with every major label in America. The next morning, I had a record deal and wrote him a cheque to pay back all that money.

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