Feb 2024 – Fiction Can Be Fun

Had it really happened?

That, more than any other was the question she’d asked herself in the months since it happened. And there’d been a lot of questions – many asked of her, and even more to which she’d sought the right answers.

Disbelief was one emotion she’d had to learn to live with, but yet worse has been the doubt. Doubt over whether she’d made the right decision – each and every time she’d had to make one; doubt over whether there were paths not taken, which she could come to regret in time; doubt over whether she’d been as fair as she intended to be, or whether some form of unknown bias had been guiding her hand.

Doubt was this huge wave, relentless, unforgiving and uncaring of the fact she’d barely learned to swim. Even when she’d sought shelter in the shallows, the force of the new wave coming in would combine with the previous wave pulling out, and knock her to her knees. Swallowing salt water, choking, coughing, sometimes able to spit it out, but swallowing more than could possibly be good for her. And when the waves died down, she’d lie on the shingle, too exhausted to find shelter, to seek out warmth, or dry clothes.

And yet it was supposed to be a good thing, wasn’t it? A lottery win – a mega, life-changing win at that – shouldn’t make you feel this bad, should it?

The minutes, hours, days and weeks since it happened had been a daze. She’d taken advantage of the professional financial advice available, but even one of their number had commented that her win was so large it was going to be hard not to get all she wanted done – for those she loved, for the causes she cared about, for herself.

But although there was enough money for it all, the constant decision making had been… no, she was simply too tired to find the right adjective, for those which came to mind were simply not enough to express how she felt.

She’d researched far and wide to decide which causes to support, desperate to be certain there would be no scandal, no wrongdoing, no misuse of funds by whomever she chose. She’d have not believed how much would be found by scratching the surface. That lesson had been so utterly dis-spiriting, she felt the lifeforce had been sucked from the very marrow of her bones. Ah, there it was… she hadn’t totally lost the words then.

Except once all the decisions had been made, the investments chosen, the needs of family and friends addressed and responsible bequests made, she’d no energy left to decide what she wanted for herself.

For some reason, her dreams and her bucket list, they all seemed to belong to someone who no longer existed. She’d been changed so profoundly that even though she was standing in front of a picture book property in Tuscany which ticked every single box on any dream wish list her previous self could’ve put together, she felt… nothing. No excitement, no joy, just a vacuum of emotion.

All she was left with was more questions. Should she just buy it, ‘cos she could always sell it on if it still didn’t float her boat once it was hers? If she didn’t buy it, would she regret it, if – when – she felt more like her old self?

And so she came back full circle to the questions – had it really happened?

PS: I haven’t won the lottery, ‘cos I would have to buy a ticket for that to happen! 😉

PPS: While there was no formal handing over, I do feel as if I’ve dropped something, as I’ve enjoyed a lovely break while David has slogged tirelessly.

Fortunately my fingers are twitching once more to write, so baton picked up. Not running with it, that’s not me…. but I will ~~break into a jog~~ walk with enthusiasm once more. By which I mean, I’ll post a piece of flash fiction once a week – Sunday most likely. And let’s see how that goes…

I’ve yet to decide about A-Z April, so I’d better get a move on with that too.

Check In

I don’t know about you, but this year is passing at pace.

I started off the year with an aspiration to try and get something here on the blog everyday, the unspoken part being not at the risk of my health. There have been a couple of times when the daily post has gone out with a couple of minutes to spare before midnight but on the whole, things have gone pretty well.

This last week has seen the most missed days, and I’m also aware that there are some comments that I need to catch up on.

I also mentioned that I’m thinking about doing the A2Z challenge again in April. I’d thought about doing the same as I’ve been doing this year so far and just winging it, but I’ve had a bit of an idea which I’m really excited about… it’s going to need some prep though, so it may take resource away from other writing.

That said, my priority at the moment is another big piece of writing which I haven’t really talked about here because it’s not fiction… For the last couple of years I’ve been trying to write a textbook. This is starting to come together, which is just as well because I need to deliver it by the end of the month – eeek.

Thank you for all the comments and engagement so far this year – it’s been really helpful to know that people are reading and engaging, even with the really silly and frivolous stuff. More to come, I promise, but the blog might be a bit quiet for a couple of weeks.

David

Cancer – a new Bechdel?

You never quite know what is being reported in other countries, unless you assiduously follow their news media. Tucker Carlson has made the news in the UK for claiming that the Western press hasn’t been talking to Russia or reporting fairly on the war in Ukraine, but as someone who has been watching Stephen Rosen of the BBC trying to get access whilst reporting on events in Russia, this is a claim that really doesn’t hold water.

The recent announcement that His Majesty King Charles III has cancer has been a bit of shock, and whilst it hasn’t overwhelmed the media, it is a story that has certainly had it’s fair share of air time and column inches. It’s been mentioned that it has made the news in other countries, but I’d imagine it’s a bit less of an issue elsewhere.

Still, the announcement, which comes off the back of another royal medical story, represents a change of pace from the traditional approach to the health of the monarch, which was to downplay things as much as possible. This change was probably occurring over much of the late Queen’s reign, but certainly even up to the 1950s the rule was radio silence about health.

I greatly enjoy the Today podcast with Amol Rajan and Nick Robinson, where they take a deep dive into some of the news items that don’t usually get as much airtime as they deserve on the Today programme, just because there is so much to fit in between 6 am and 9 am everyday. This week they had Stephen Fry on because he too has had cancer. The whole episode is moving and informative and referenced the Turnbull-Fry effect which occurred when Bill Turnbull and Fry announced they had cancer at about the same time, leading to a big uptick in men going to seek help for symptoms that they’d been ignoring. The announcement that the King had been treated for a prostate condition (which incidentally had led to the cancer diagnosis) similarly led to an uptick men talking about their health and seeking help and advice.

A week or so ago I referenced the Bechdel test in a story. This started as a tongue in cheek comment, but is starting to become something of a yardstick when it comes to gender balance in story telling. Essentially, the test asks whether two named female characters have a conversation where a man is not mentioned. Listening to the Today podcast, it made me wonder whether writers need to take more responsibility for informing people.

Reading and writing is supposed to be enjoyable, and getting bogged down in moralising is not something that you want to see turn up I’m everything you read or watch. Whilst the A Team were early proponents of recycling, you wouldn’t want to have a five minute monologue from James Bond on sustainably sourced nuclear missiles. But I do wonder if there is the potential to trigger Turnbull-Fry effects for a range of health and social issues by having our characters role model.

The stoic action hero needs to start taking care of themselves, and the driven cop needs to stop eating badly and drinking too much and start talking to someone. The old cliches have served there purpose and now it’s time to stop being lazy and living off the shorthand that was created in a different time. We can still give our characters bad habits to show how damaged they are, but we can give them some good habits too…

I’m tempted to call my test the TF2R, based on the inspiration, but it’s not very catchy. Perhaps it should just be the Health Check? If you’ve got any suggestions, write them on the back of health questionnaire and post them in the comments below.

Copper

Name?

Merer. I was here last year, remember? And the year before, and…

*scribble* Purpose of visit?

Like last year, I’m here to purchase copper and turquoise.

*scribble* Country of origin?

Still Egypt! Can we move this along, please? I need to be getting back.

*scribble* Purpose of purchase?

Exactly the same as last time, to make tools.

*scribble* what sort of tools?

Chisels, drill bits – you know, tools! We’re working a lot of stone and the copper just doesn’t last, but it’s all we’ve got…so…

*scribble* Ore or refined metal?

Bit of both. Look can we just move it along, please?

*scribble* And how much ore are you looking to purchase?

Seven deny of copper, forty-nine deny of ore.

*teeth-sucking* That’s rather a lot of ore. Are you sure it’s just for tools?

YES! I’m building a bloomin’ pyramid!

Leave it Merer! It’s the same every year -he’s not worth it!

#SecondThoughts: Cultural Appropriation

Being a writer has all too many opportunities to be the target of people’s ire. It’s easy to offend people with overuse of semi-colons or pretentious words like, well, pretentious. Of course, it’s not just limited to writers, but writers get all the issues associated with the subject they’re writing about, as well as comments about the pacing of the story, the unbelievability of some of the characters, and even, that a beloved character ‘wouldn’t act like that’. Against that background, there have got to be some perks to being a writer, right? The fun of creating your own world, of delving into a subject, of creating a problem that will be solved as you read through the book, of writing beautiful, coherent prose, of…well, there are lots of good things about writing, and perhaps the best advice is to just avoid reading the reviews.

That’s certainly one of the bits of advice that’s given in Yellowface by RF Kuang. Without getting too bogged down in a specific book, that advice is harder to deal with when the author who is the main character in the book is accused of cultural appropriation. The book is an interesting exploration of the publishing industry, the sharp practice that might be found in some corners of that industry, and more especially the impact of social media and the witch hunts that can brew up over a whole range of issues. I’m pleased to say that the little corner of the writing community that I occupy on X, formerly known as Twitter, is pretty supportive, but the issue of ‘cancelling’, or a good old what I suppose we must now call an X-storm over a disagreement.

In Yellowface, the cultural appropriation is pretty egregious, but what counts as appropriation and what is just background interest? If I were to write a novel about the navvies who built the Victorian sewer system under London, would that be appropriation on the basis that many of the navvies were Irish, and I am not? Would the work that I’ve done in the water sector give me a veneer of respectability in this area or would it just seem like a desperate fig-leaf?

Nick Robinson, presenter of the Today programme on BBC Radio 4 and of the Today podcast, was practically chortling with glee, over the idea of the Tartan Wall, a logical extension of the idea of a the Red Wall. The Red Wall has traditionally been applied to an area of Northern England where voters always returned Labour MPs, which was famously smashed during Boris Johnson’s premiership. After a significant period with the Scottish National Party in charge in Scotland, there is a view that Scotland will need to turn away from the SNP and towards Labour, if Labour is to win the next election. Of course, there is some debate about whether this is the case, or not, but still, the idea of a Tartan Wall is a neat one…except that when Nick presented this idea to Ruth Davidson, former leader of the Scottish Conservatives, she very politely tore a strip off him for cultural appropriation – it’s not his place to label anything Tartan. Yes, the Tartan Army is abroad, supporting the national side in various sporting endeavours, but it’s their prerogative to call themselves what they do.

What to do, what to do… Writer’s need to have the freedom to write their stories, but there are multiple ethical issues to be addressed too. It’s hard to work out if someone is trying to cash in on an unexplored niche, or jump on a suddenly popular band wagon, but if they’ve put the effort into doing the research, shouldn’t they be able to capitalise on it?

Perhaps, whilst we can’t necessarily determine intent, we can at least review the use of language. Nick Robinson’s use of Tartan in that context, could be considered patronising, possibly even pejorative. There’s definitely a block of constituencies in Scotland that are currently controlled by the SNP, and it makes sense to talk about them, and compare them to the Red Wall, but perhaps the name needs some thought.

Final thought. If you are in a minority, and you see your culture being appropriated by another group, it’s only natural that you’d be quite miffed, and want to have a word with the writer. But the minority in question doesn’t just have to be religious, or based on race, or some other obvious answer that has it’s own tick box on a questionnaire. It could be something like, oh, the cultural appropriation of science. Everyone knows what science is, right? So we’ll have the scientist come in wearing their whitecoat and safety specs and carrying a bottle of something that is a funny colour and giving off smoke. What do you mean they’re not a chemist? Does that matter?

I don’t like laying down rules, but I’m going to throw out a few and see where it goes.

If someone can find it without too much difficulty in the public domain, it’s fair game.
Don’t make up names, nicknames, or other sobriquets, for something that you’re borrowing from someone/where else.
Double, triple, quadruple check that you know all the sides of the story you’re telling – one person’s freedom fighter is another’s terrorist. Don’t be the person that canonises a cad or demonises a decent person because you didn’t get your facts straight.

What do you think? Any rules you’d add? Anything that I’ve said the can’t work?

Cheese

Inspector Alnager sighed and pushed his plate away. One night, one measly free dinner, and he hadn’t even been able to get through the cheese and crackers without someone getting bumped off.

Several of his bette noires, and it says a lot about a professional detective that he should have more than one, were scattered about the room, but it was not that surprising since it was a crime writers awards dinner. And who should have keeled over in the midst of his speech but the Chief Judge of this year’s awards panel.

“‘E was, how you say, le grand fromage?”

Alnager was an affable man, mellow in outlook, and with a strong constitution. He needed to be, against this sort of provocation. A lesser man would have had multiple stomach ulcers by now.

“Sergeant, we’ve got our work cut out here. I’ll secure the scene, you secure the attendees. And be careful, I wouldn’t trust this lot as far as I could throw a ten-foot barge pole, especially that gaggle of amateur detectives – something smells off and they’ll be all over it given half a chance.”

“I reckon that’d be the cheeseboard, sir. Lovely bit of stinking bishop, not to mention the stilton, and the…”

“Yes, thank you sergeant. The witnesses?”

To be continued…possibly.