What if...?

One of the key questions an author asks when writing a story is: ‘What if…?’ What if our hero met someone in a bar? What if they got lost on the way home? What if they found a treasure? Or, if we’re particularly short of ideas, what if ninjas burst through the wall?

In life, I ask the same question and, having finished my novel, I’ve been considering it from both sides: what if I am successful in my quest to find an agent/publisher? And, what if I’m not?

One time, I wrote a song, just after I’d finished recording an album:

Welcome by Martin Flett

Basically, I was tired, and on the way down from the completing-a-project buzz. I had no new material left and the last thing I wanted to do was to face writing a whole new album, to start from scratch, when I hadn’t been that successful with my previous effort.

But, I wrote the song, and my next album, Becoming Human, was born which, incidentally, remains my best musical work so far.

It is difficult facing the ‘what if not…’ question: the answer can seem to be that we’d have to give up on whatever ultimate ambition we have. For me, it might mean I can never earn my living as an author and will have to settle for writing for fun, alongside whatever average admin job I can find.

But, if we pick up the tools again and make the first step towards our next project, then the dream isn’t lost. It may merely be over the next mountain. If your dream is really worth it, then you’ll make that climb.

And, you never know: what if the second one is the best…?

Achieving life's goals.

Two years ago, I wrote this about some of the things I wanted to do in my life.

Re-reading it now, I’m pleased to see I’ve succeeded in a couple: I visited Findochty, and I’ve finished my first novel. Unfortunately I haven’t yet learned to play Johnny B. Goode Marty McFly style and I may have to accept I will never achieve this one.

Finishing my novel gave me a weird feeling: I’ve done something I’ve wanted to do for years. Now, it’s complete, on the page, out of my head and in the world. It’s finished. It feels good. 

But it brought to mind a question: what do you do when you’ve achieved your life’s ambition?

The answer is, of course, make a new one. Find something else to work towards. For example, I'm glad, even two years ago, I included ‘write another novel’ on my list of things to do. The best ambitions don’t end, they grow.

I’m proud of finishing my novel; I’ll be even more proud if I get it published. And prouder still if I end up with a whole shelf of my own in the local Waterstones.

Whatever you’re working on, keep at it. Achieving a goal is worth the time and hard work it takes. And, when you’ve done it, you’ll find a whole kaleidoscope of new ambitions and opportunities appear over the horizon.

Bring it on.

Reasons for creativity: are we 'adding to the noise'?

It’s been a year since I last posted on my blog. I stopped writing it because, firstly, I wanted to prioritise my novel (which I’ve now finished!) and, secondly, I became aware of the sheer volume of ‘stuff’ that is posted online. What made me think I had anything to add worth reading?

There’s a song I like by Switchfoot:

'Adding to the noise' - Switchfoot

I look at various social media sites and see a constant stream of, mostly banal, posts (no offence intended to anyone in particular!) and wonder: why should I add to it? What makes my musings more worthy of airtime than those of anyone else?

Eventually, I’ve realised it depends on why you’re writing/posting – or indeed doing anything else creative. If you’re doing it because you want to, because you feel you have something to offer that might be of benefit to the world then, great. But if you’re doing it because you want attention, and your work is screaming: ‘Look at me! Look at me!’ then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it when my blog-views go up, or when people comment on or share my work. My ego gets a boost and I feel validated, of course I do. But it can’t become the reason for writing, otherwise I’m just selling out.

So, I’m back. Because I like writing on here, and because I think I have something worth saying.

If you disagree and it’s just more ‘noise’ to you then, please, turn off this blog…

When 'thank you' seem to be the hardest words...

I once read that ‘thank you’ is a perfectly acceptable response to most compliments.  I try to follow the rule myself, though it’s hard as someone who is naturally inclined towards self-deprecation.

We all know how irritating it can be when someone constantly refuses to accept our compliments: the girl who won’t accept someone thinks she’s beautiful; the guy who refuses to let us congratulate him on playing guitar well.  Yet, I’ve never really thought about why it’s irritating, until now…

People sometimes compliment my writing, and it always surprises me.  It’s not that I don’t believe I’m any good, it’s more that I don’t expect other people to agree with me (or to even read my stuff!)  When someone tells me I write well, I’m therefore tempted to tell them I’m not really that good.

But that’s quite disrespectful to the other person.  I’d basically be saying I know better than them, which is odd, given my self-deprecating leanings.  Or I’d be calling them a liar, or a sycophant, believing they’re telling me what I want to hear, not what they really think. (Though I would probably dress it up in my mind as ‘they’re just being polite.’)

 So, instead, I pause for a second, allowing my brain to process the fact this person may actually like what I write, and then I thank them. 

Even if they’re wrong, and my writing is terrible, they are still entitled to their opinion and I am grateful it’s a positive one.

Next time someone pays you a compliment, accept it graciously.  They might just be telling the truth.

(Liz Mosley, if you’re reading this, thank you!  Your compliment last weekend inspired this post.)

What it really means to 'do your best'.

100% can be a fluid concept.

‘Do your best’ is a common piece of encouragement, and it’s a good one: no-one can ask any more of you than your ‘best’.

But sometimes we think we could’ve done better.  Maybe an article we’ve written isn’t as good as a previous one, or we don’t perform as well as we’d hoped in an interview, or perhaps we don’t achieve the grade we wanted in an exam.

We believe we haven’t done our best.

But I don’t think that’s necessarily the case.  There are so many factors influencing our performance: we could be ill at the time (mentally or physically), or we could have other demands on our time.  Perhaps the cellar flooded or the car broke down, and we lost time sorting it out, or were flustered when we got to the venue.  It doesn’t even have to be something so dramatic: we could’ve needed to get the house in order, or have been making an effort to keep friendships and relationships going.

I’d argue, unless we were sat around eating chips and playing on the Xbox for 3 weeks beforehand, we still did our ‘best’.  

Doing our best doesn’t necessarily mean achieving the maximum possible result we could under perfect circumstances.  Circumstances are rarely perfect, therefore the maximum possible result is rarely ‘perfection’. 

We only get one life, and only one opportunity to do any one thing.  The way things work out is the only way they could – ‘if onlys’ don’t exist.

So don’t give yourself a hard time if you don’t quite meet your own high standards every time you do something.  The chances are you have done your best with the circumstances or resources available to you.

There is always more going on than you could possibly imagine.

I read somewhere this week that electrons do not move in a regular orbit around a nucleus as I'd always thought. (Yet more proof that GCSE Physics is a complete waste of time.) Rather, they move from one place to another without actually travelling the distance in between.

That's right, they teleport. And we thought it wasn't possible.

It wasn't a science text book that told me this, so I can't vouch for its validity (I am now reading a book on quantum mechanics in an effort to fill in some of the gaps in my knowledge), but even so, it's an interesting thought.

I realise by beginning my post with this information, I've risked losing a number of readers who don't like science (or those who do, and therefore will scoff at my primitive understanding of quantum mechanics) but, it's important because it shows there is always more going on than we could possibly imagine.

I sat in a classical concert last week and considered the vibrations of the air, carrying the sound to my ears, keeping the exact pitch and rhythm the musicians intended. I felt a little dizzy, in fact, as I tried to decide whether air was a better conductor of sound than the strings themselves.

The music was glorious but, even then, there was still so much more going on.

Often we might feel despondent: working a mundane job, or checking sales figures that don't quite match what we'd hoped, or looking at a room full of people at a wedding and believing they're all happy and we're the only ones who aren't.

But, I guarantee, there is more going on than you think. Those people might be putting off going home to an abusive partner, or one of the sales we have made could have gone to a young man who may have committed suicide if it wasn't for your inspirational book. And that job could be providing you with just the experience you need for your perfect job in five years time.

And, even if none of that is true, there are billions of electrons in your body, jumping around, teleporting back and forth (depending on whether they're being observed, apparently), without which you could not 'be'.

So don't despair, you are a marvel. And you never know what might be going on behind the scenes.

Finding good role models: thoughts from a train following a best friend's wedding.

I had the privilege of witnessing one of my longest-serving, and best, friends get married yesterday. I sat in the reception and listened to various people comment on the excellent qualities of my friend, knowing that it was an accurate representation of this man I've known for my whole life.

As I sat there I couldn't help wondering what people might say about me should I get married again. And I felt a sense of shame: I doubt my references would be as glowing. At least, not if they were to be accurate.

'When I look at myself I don't see the man I wanted to be; somewhere down the line I slipped off track. One step up and two steps back.' - Bruce Springsteen, 'One Step Up'

But the man I saw yesterday, my friend, is still very much in my life, and we both expressed a strong desire to try and recapture some of the closeness that, as so often seems to happen as life goes on, has somehow been lost, just through the passage of time and that all-powerful force: 'stuff'.

In my friend I see a true 'man', and an excellent role model. Someone who I want to emulate, not necessarily in outward accomplishments or actions, but in strength of character, in loyalty of friendship, and in a personification of love. And I don't apologise for sounding overly sentimental.

Congratulations, mate. May your marriage be life-long and full of joy. I'm glad I have the opportunity to continue to be friends with, and learn from, you.