The Joy of Incompetence

At the end of 2010 I made some resolutions. I planned to write in longhand more often, to listen to audiobooks, and to use ‘dead time’ more productively (by which I mean writing or reading in all those valuable moments that drain away while I’m waiting for other people to get their act together.)


I was successful at longhand, a failure at audiobooks (I tend to zone out the voice within a couple of minutes) and the dead time has mostly been filled by the engrossing narratives of the Mumsnet relationships forum. But there was one resolution that really made a difference to my life. I took up Lindy Hop dancing.

Lindy Hop is a 1930s/40s swing dance that has enjoyed a revival over the past 30 years or so. I didn’t realise when I started, but it turns out that Lindy Hop is actually quite cool. At least, it’s a way for uncool people to find a niche of coolness. It’s a way of having a big night out in London while wearing sensible shoes and drinking nothing but water because the dancing is more important than boozing. It's a way of socialising with friendly, well-dressed, intelligent people. It's a way of going to an event called 'Saturday Night Swing Club' without the merest hint of anything dodgy going on.

Another advantage of Lindy Hop is that it's like exercise, only fun. I’ve been dancing once a week (often twice, sometimes three times) since January 2011 – I lost a stone in the first couple of months and have actually kept some of it off. This stopped me looking quite so much like a hamster and inspired me to get a proper haircut and smarten myself up a bit, which is probably a good thing.

There’s only one potential problem with my new hobby. I am, not to put too fine a point on things, absolutely shite at dancing.

Strictly Writing now has its very own Ann Widdecombe. Lindy Hop is admittedly complicated to learn, but after more than a year of lessons I ought to be a bit less, well… shite… than I am. Other people who started learning at the same time now look to me like something out of Hellzapoppin’, while I’m still just trying not to fall over. Added to which, I'm no spring chicken compared with many London Lindy Hoppers – so on the social dance floor I'm the inept old saddo with whom only the most kind-hearted or equally inept people will dance.

But the heartening thing is that this doesn't matter. I find dancing fun and worth doing for its own sake. My new motto is: feel the incompetence and do it anyway. As someone whose writing life has been characterised by the thought ‘I’ll never be any good at this. I might as well just GIVE UP NOW’, it's so refreshing to revel in doing something badly. It's made me realise that uselessness is not a good reason for giving up.

Whether you caterwaul 'I Will Survive' at the local pub's karaoke night, or whether you decorate cupcakes that look like someone took a pink dump on Jabba the Hutt’s head, there’s really a lot of fun to be had in doing things badly.

With my dancing, there are no publishers to impress, no rejection letters, no agents turning me away while trying to flog their own book. I will never enter some Bridport dancing competition; never appear on Strictly Come Dancing; never hope for a six-figure advance for my awkward attempts at the Charleston. But I'll enjoy myself, that's for sure, and I'll keep in mind that maybe writing, too, is worth doing regardless of success.

What is it that you like doing... badly?

To See You - Nice!

So it’s back again. That show which cheekily took its name from the Strictly blog. With a new set, a new format, and a cull of several of the most popular pro dancers.

But some things never change: Brucie’s back – albeit only for the Saturday show – and Tess towers over him as ever, resplendent in aqua. The four judges -Bruno ‘Hyper’ Tonioli, Len ‘The Charm’ Goodman, Alesha ‘Extensions’ Dixon and Craig ‘Char-char-char, dahling’ Revel Horwood - are ready with sharp eyes, tongues and nails, poised to pounce on any mistakes (rather as the sadly-missed Arlene Phillips used to pounce on the hunky male dancers).

And where would the show be without its contestants? This year’s haul includes Pamela Stephenson (self-styled Hollywood sex psychotherapist and wife of Billy Connolly), the ubiquitous magician Paul ‘Not A Lot’ Daniels , the actor Felicity ‘Good Life’ Kendal, Peter ‘Hand of God’ Shilton and Patsy ‘Oasis’ Kensit.

And then there’s Ann Widdecombe.

Yes, the politician. The pocket rocket. Diminutive of stature, giant of mouth. Writer of four novels, participant in Celebrity Fit Club and changer of image extraordinaire. Who, you might ask, would be a worthy partner for Ann?

Enter Anton du Beke. Born Anthony Beke. Shares Brucie’s humour – and, unfortunately, his profile. Oldest dancer in the show. Dances the foxtrot like Fred Astaire, and the latin like, er, someone who hates latin dancing.

Already, Ann and Anton are generating more column inches than any of the other more glamorous couplings. Already, Ann’s refused to dance a particular move in the group dance, because she considers it improper. She has banned any clothing that might be considered 'immodest' and has refused the use of fake tan. Stately as a galleon, she will sail through the opening round of the competition purely on the basis of her wry wit and her X factor. Eccentricity factor, that is.

Not for me the size zero soapstar beauties with their chest-waxed, spray-tanned partners. For pure entertainment, give me the Ann Widdecombes, the John Sergeants, the Julian Clarys of this world. Which leads me to think about character, and odd couples in fiction. Eccentricity, for me, is the defining factor. I’d rather remember a character for her rapier wit, her difference from the crowd, than for her beauty and grace. Jo in Little Women was always more interesting to me than Amy or Beth, just as Katherine Hepburn was infinitely more entertaining than Marilyn Monroe.

And when you couple them up, you really start cooking on gas. Who cares about Romeo and Juliet when you can have Othello and Desdemona? Where’s the charm of Cinderella and her Prince, set against the darker enticement of Beauty and The Beast? Jane Eyre and Rochester beat Catherine and Heathcliff hands down, in my opinion, just as Homer and Marge Simpson tower above Fred and Wilma Flintstone and Bill and Ben fade into insignificance against Kermit and Miss Piggy. And Tom and Barbara Goode (sorry, Felicity) were pygmies compared with Basil and Sybil Fawlty.

The defining thing about eccentric couples seems to come down to conflict. Nicey-nice couples do not great literature make. Whilst in real life, being of one mind may be the stuff of golden wedding aniversaries, in fiction it’s the differences that make the reader read on – even if it’s just to see whether they’re ever resolved.

So dance your heart out, Ann and Anton, and ignore the barbs. Because one thing’s for sure: it’ll be you that the nation remembers, long after the spray tan’s faded and the glitterball’s twinkled its last.

Top Tens

For those of you who remember Top of The Pops, I need you to get into the mood. Remember Dave Lee Travis? No? Just me then…

Imagine the countdown music. It goes something like this:

Na Na Na Na – Nah, Nah, Nah! Na Na Na Na – Nah, Nah, Nah! (Repeat repeatedly)

Top Ten Tips For The Unpublished Writer

1. Never lose faith. You are a great writer.
2. Read – preferably with your favourite snack on hand.
3. Know what you’re writing about – your story. Be able to answer the question ‘So, what’s your story about?’ in a couple of snappy sentences.
4. Know your audience.
5. Know the difference between writing and editing.
6. Choose your preferred agent and don’t give up.
7. Write what you want to write – not what you think is trendy or commercial.
8. Avoid people who do not support your dreams. They don’t have to ‘get’ them but they do have to support them.
9. Join a writers group for feedback– real life or online.
10. Write something every day, remembering to use your senses…
    
    Ready again? And now…Cue the music. Na Na Na Na – Nah Nah Nah!

Top Ten Tips For The Published Writer

1. Remember all of the top ten tips of the unpublished.
2. Keep in touch with your agent and editor. Remember their birthdays.
3. Never read Amazon reviews. I mean NEVER read them and in the event that you do - NEVER respond to them.
4. Do not ask your agent to explain the term ‘returns’.
5. Ignore the ‘bestsellers’ unless of course you are listed. Then feel free to embrace them. In print. In public. In Trafalgar Square.
6. Don’t obsess about whether your agent/editor will like your current WIP as you’re writing it. Do you like it? You’re a published writer. You count.
7. Sell yourself! Sell yourself! Sell yourself!
8. Don’t stick your fingers in your ears and ignore the fact you have a deadline. Not a good plan.
9. Write even when you don’t want to because YOU ARE PUBLISHED. You have an audience waiting for your next work of art.
10. Limit internet activity and by this I mean blogging, tweeting, facebooking etc etc. to max of one hour a day. Try not to cyber hop. It’s distracting.
    (This should really be in the above list too, but that would have made it eleven top ten tips which would have been odd at best.)

And now cue different music. Something less jaunty. Like the Death March?

Top Ten Things For Writers To Avoid (Published Or Unpublished)

1. Morning television. It is the devils fare, produced mostly by men for women who want to write but will watch any old crap in order to avoid doing said writing.
2. Sky plus re-runs of Ricky Whittle’s Argentine Tango on Strictly Come Dancing. It is a distraction. Worse than Facebook, Twitter and blogging combined – although far more pleasurable and very easy on the eye and good research for future sex scenes.
3. Chocolate before 11am. It just leaves you wanting more. A bit like number two really...
4. Blogger, Email, Facebook, Twitter etc etc. Pure procrastination tools.
5. Answering the phone. Let the answer-phone get it.
6. Thinking of food. Bad idea. Leaves you wanting some. A bit like number two really...
7. Answering the door. Could be the window cleaner looking for cash which you inevitably won’t have at that moment in time. All that time wasted on explanations and apologies. Unless of course it’s Ricky Whittle. Then answer the door and make no apologies.
8. Carbs after 6pm. ‘Writer’s ass’ is bad enough without adding to the problem with excess pounds.
9. Too Much Booze. It is a well known fact that it’s difficult to write under the foggy haze of a hangover.
10. Gyms. Go for a long walk instead. Much better for the brain and the writing synapse thingys. Awakens your senses. And you meet characters who walk dogs.
    

I could go on all day.

Top ten favourite snacks for writers? Top ten ways of describing a wintry day? Top ten writers blogs? Top ten tools of the trade? Top ten Strictly Dancing Celebritys?

Okay, I’m suffering from ‘Whittle-itus’ but for those of you who haven’t seen it, have a look. He’s my number one. *Sigh*

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbkLEtLJ5To

Frailty – thy name is Fionnuala…

Strictly Determined

Tonight's the night! Strictly Come Dancing, the show to which our blog pays homage, is bringing its warm, friendly glitter and glamour back to the screens.

Brucie will crack the same old cringe-worthy jokes and then say 'think about it' in case we're too thick to understand. Viewers at home will lament the ditching of Arlene. The dancers will nervously await their first moment of glory, and across the land grumpy dads on sofas will comment “never 'eard of 'im,” and “who's she when she's at home?”

Much as I enjoy Strictly Come Dancing, I have some sympathy for the view that it is scraping the barrel with its choice of celebrities. It could even get to the point where they'll be reduced to asking me to be on it. As a result, viewers initially tend to scoff about the contestants. Who on earth are they? What have they ever done? Isn't it a disgrace that anyone thin and young can get on TV these days without proper talent?

But if this series is anything like the last, we'll get to see the real reason why they are marginally more famous than us. Some of the contestants – maybe not the ones we expected – will turn out to be very, very good at dancing. Not only that, but they will spend phenomenal numbers of hours practising. They will get things wrong, they will crash to the floor, they will have moments of despair and self-doubt, they will carry on through illness or injury, repeating the steps however many times it takes to get them right. The sheer physical and emotional effort involved is incredible to those of us more familiar with Viennese Whirls than Viennese waltzes.

And where has that level of ability and determination got them so far? A minor role in The Bill or something. No wonder the rest of us aren't on the telly!

Sometimes in trying to make sense of rejection after rejection, writers look for reasons why others have got published - and it has to be anything other than the uncomfortable idea that they are talented and hard-working. If an acquaintance appears to dash off a first draft in two months, give it a quick glance through for typos and have a £100K advance by the next weekend – well, surely there must be some rational explanation for their success.

The lovely readers of Strictly Writing are not the type to whinge that others had unfair advantages, but you've probably all seen it happen in the more cut-throat corners of the writerly internet. New authors, people say, must have known someone in the business. They got published because they're blonde and pretty. Their great aunt was Agatha Christie's hairdresser's cousin; they went to Eton or did a week's work experience at Penguin in 1989.

Well, for most previously unknown novelists, the only rational explanation is that they worked outstandingly hard behind the scenes – for years, usually – cultivating their talent and practising until they got things right. That's all. Even that was never guaranteed to be enough to win a publisher's vote, but at last they made it into print on the strength of that effort and not because of what they look like or who they went to school with. We don't get to see just what it took because there was no one there to film the mistakes and challenges on the way, but we can rest assured that they happened.

Getting published might not involve glamorous frocks, glittering trophies or terrible jokes from Brucie, but it requires so much genuine work and determination that it's certainly an achievement worth dancing about!