What are the odds

What are the odds–no question mark–was the caption under an image posted on March 5, 2022. Just a few moments before it was posted, I was in a heated discussion with my friend, Mish, talking about Namjoon. I had said something along the lines of “what are the chances?” likely pondering on the chances of me meeting him and all my literary dreams coming true. I was getting frustrated. You see, for the past four years, I had been attempting to write my way to BTS, in particular their leader RM aka Namjoon. Many goals were made, but the one highest on my list was getting the opportunity to write a book with the group. A book, a whole book… with the group, the whole group (to those not in the know, this is a simple statement, but as the acronym I only recently learnt goes IYKYK–this is no easy feat at all). That was the goal that I set the instant I laid eyes on them. It was one of those encounters where my mind most definitely had left my body and I was transported somewhere far across the metaphysical plane. So the fact that I became resolute in that moment to write a book with a group I had only just comprehended for the first time was rather odd. By which I mean to say, it might seem odd to you… but to me, it was all part of the cosmic flow. I filed away this goal and went about my life, slowly but surely doing what I could to ensure my path would align with theirs. Korean classes were had, articles were written, thoughts were thunk and a plan was eventually devised. First: I had to become the author. Then: I would become the coveted Korea Wallea (Who? What? Why? All in good time, I promise). Lastly: I would hop skip and jump my way over to getting BTS’ and their company’s attention and be on my merry way to Korea to write a book. My logic was as follows: Become the person who would be invited to write a book with BTS, then notify the group and their company of my existence. They would, naturally, be intrigued by who I am and what I do and inevitably invite me to work on a book project with BTS. Simple common sense, surely. Of course, I wasn’t naive enough to think that those few steps would be enough, or that it would be straightforward, or come quickly. I just knew that from the outside looking in, my book deal with BTS would appear very much like that. A well-known and respected indie author has written an experimental, poignant and bold book with BTS. It really does get to be that simple. But my journey there… perhaps less so. 

Over the course of 2019, I slowly and surely became the writer and by 2020 I had become the author. Alongside this journey to fulfilling my lifelong dream of being published came another mantle I didn’t expect to pick up until much later in my career: Publisher. Writing my own books about BTS and their fandom, ARMY, wasn’t enough, I wanted to publish books on the group from authors all around the world. I wanted to publish all things ‘revolutionary’. This served many purposes apart from those of passion and reason for being on this planet. Mainly it added to my legitimacy as an author and an entrepreneur in the eyes of the world and, of course, Hybe, BTS’ management company. I wasn’t just an author. I was a visionary looking to revolutionise the publishing industry and radicalise some minds–mirroring Hybe’s sentiments, albeit with more evocative phrasing. Soon after, in the midst of my upwards swing in 2020, I added another unexpected word to my ever-evolving bio. I was a writer, a published author, a publisher, and I was chronically ill. I’ve got to say, trying to launch a career and build a company and become Korea Wallea all while constantly positioning myself to be a desirable book writing candidate to Hybe was not a mood. If I were being dramatic I’d say it was a bit of a shit show, but it’s 2022 and I’m framing everything as a learning. I digress.

So here I was, March 5, 2022, sometime late in the evening. Feeling frustrated that my trajectory toward BTS looked messy. I didn’t think it would be easy, but I also didn’t think I would experience the worst two years of my life. Ambition has always been a double-edged sword for me and during that moment I was hoisted on it, desperate for an answer to my question: What are the chances? Truly, I wanted Mish to tell me the chances. Was there a chance? Was I completely off the mark with my dreams? Were they foolish? I wanted something, anything to hold onto. No pressure Mish, but you need to tell me the validity of everything I’ve done since 2019 as well as my hopes and dreams, and identity. Easy, right? The conversation moves on and 30 minutes later I see a starred post at the top of my Instagram feed, posted half an hour earlier. A post from him, that guy, the one that I wrote a book about, Namjoon. This in itself was still a slight novelty to me, as he had only started posting to Instagram a few months prior. He was sitting between two tables with his legs crossed, giving off what’s commonly referred to throughout the fandom as boyfriend vibes. But that’s not what stood out. It was the caption: What are the odds. It stood out because right before he hit upload I was asking Mish “what are the chances?” A synchronicity. I claimed it with a lot of capitalised spam and exclamation points to Mish saying something along the lines of “HE KNOWS!!!” (we say this a lot). I took solace in that moment. It felt reassuring. I wrote it down in the notes app on my phone and pinned it to my home screen so I’d see it every day. 

Fast forward seven months and 12 days later and I’m with Mish in Seoul, South Korea. A pivotal step in my journey, going to the place it all began for Bangtan and the place I wanted to be. There was a catch, though. I wasn’t there to work with BTS. I was there to see them perform in Busan. Even then, we couldn’t secure tickets to the show. I felt like it was a continuation of my messy trajectory. Nothing was quite working out. Everything felt disjointed. Or rather, I felt disjointed. I felt numb, detached, disconnected. I was having a major identity crisis in a foreign city far away from home. After arriving back in Australia it took me many weeks to recalibrate and understand what happened. A process that is still unfolding at this very moment. But in writing this I can now appreciate what was taking place. 

Early November I accosted my mother with butcher's paper and markers. My captive audience, she sat on the couch as I plastered the walls with what was stuck inside my head. My publishing company was all out of money, so much so that I had to pick up work at a newspaper factory. The night shift grind sent me into a funk for the first two months as I struggled to adjust. Now out of the house working at night and sleeping through the day I had little to no capacity to work on turning my company around, nor on my own writing endeavours. What my trip to Korea showed me–albeit through the many blurry layers of my own warped reality–was that as much as I had to let the dream of becoming Korea Wallea who writes books with BTS go… I was still all in. I felt like after all this time now was my chance to make it happen. I also realised that after all this time–noting that the past four years have felt more like 10–I was further away from realising my dream than ever. I hadn’t written a book since 2019. I hadn’t published on BTS for nearly a year and a half. I had stopped posting on social media altogether. I was stuck. And every time I tried to work on a book or for the company or on my socials I would teeter on the edge of a nervous break. 

Working towards an unknown future can, at times, throw me off balance. You see, although I am certain that I will write and publish books and have a wonderful career, I cannot say for absolute sure that I will get to work with BTS. So to have a dream so big and seemingly out of reach–especially when one suffers from fatigue as I do–is exhausting. It’s uncertain. It’s unknown. Of course, for that is what makes it so magical. The key tension in my life is that there is no guarantee that I will ever meet BTS, or get to work with them. My illness taught me that I cannot push the river, I cannot control my way to achieving my dreams. However, what I was learning from my trip to Korea and my newfound numbness to all that I have built is that I still have to do what I can. I have to go all in, for real. I have to keep trying, for if I do not, I become disenchanted. And I secretly fear I’ll grow complacent watching hundreds of thousands of newspapers fly overhead at 2am on a Friday. 

What I outlined to mum was my big 2023 goal and how I was going to achieve it. It’s truly the most concrete I’ve ever been. In 2023 I will be noticed by BTS or Hybe or equivalent and given an opportunity to create a book with the group. That’s it. That’s my priority. That’s what I have my sights on. Though I knew it when I was scrawling on butcher's paper, it was only as I began to write these words on this page that you’re reading right now that I fully connected the dots. What I knew was that I had to increase my chances of being seen by BTS. I had to reach a saturation point of eyes on myself and my work. What I know now is that Namjoon had a similar message for me back on March 5. Or perhaps it was a correction. You see, I was asking Mish–and by extension the universe, as this was a question I asked a lot–“what are the chances?” As in, surely if I do enough things and work hard enough and become the person who will write books with BTS, I increase the likelihood of everything falling into place by chance. Whereas what Namjoon wrote was “what are the odds”. As in, something far more statistical. Something not cosmic or divine per se. Something that is far more within the bounds of my own control. I, Wallea Eaglehawk, through the natural and organic unravelling and becoming of my own writerly, entrepreneurial self, can make specific moves and decisions to increase the odds of being discovered by BTS. Not chances. There’s nothing accidental about this. Not that I’m telling the universe to take a back seat. Rather, I’m taking ownership–very publicly at that–of my dreams and my plans. Sure, there’s no guarantee, but a small-town-writer-to-working-with-BTS-against-all-the–wait for it–odds story arc does seem awfully appealing to me. There are high stakes: I’m putting my career and company on the line. There are huge obstacles: I’m one of millions vying for the attention of BTS and Hybe, oh and they’re away on military enlistment until 2025. And at the end of the day I could make it all the way to Hybe’s proverbial doorstep only to discover that as much as they like me, they’re not interested in me writing a book with BTS. 

When I was in Korea those seven months and 12 days after Namjoon’s cryptic post, I was unknowingly standing where the photo of him was taken. I remember the day because I felt it was a rare moment of lucidity for me. I visited a bookstore made popular by Namjoon and sat where he sat, right by a piece of paper with his signature on it. I felt a bit foolish, it’s not often you’d find me doing what everyone else was doing. But walking those streets and watching the trees pass by from the taxi window I felt oddly connected to him. Connected through country, through the streets, and the buildings and the trees. I had never felt that way before. After many years–for lack of a better word–studying him, I felt like I had reached a new level of understanding. It wasn’t intellectual, it was more of a felt thing. I just got it. I messaged my mum and showed her the photo of me sitting where he sat, and a picture of him in the same place. “This is the closest I’ve come to meeting him,” I joked. But to it, I added, “I feel so grounded”. It was the day that I realised this is real, I am here, this is absolutely happening, and it’s very much now.

With that, I’d like to welcome you to the here-and-very-much-now. This is my story of going all in on my big-time dream of working with BTS. This is my story of how I’m turning my business around, generating enough income to leave my job, and creating again after chronic illness. This is my story of how I’m writing my way to BTS and beyond. This is BTS Not Guaranteed.