I try all things, I achieve what I can

I had a day off from my day-job yesterday (yesterday being, in this case, 12/1/16) you know… A lot of you won’t recognise the enormity of that statement – But those who have met me face to face (or face to any part of my morphologically improbable body) will know that I don’t take time off.  In fact, I often get reminded by my colleagues, in the latter part of the year, “Oi, Dandy, you know you’ve still got 22 days holiday left to take in the next two weeks?”

But anywho, I was off work yesterday and that was the important thing.  Initially, it was because my daughter had her last meaningful parents’ evening at her senior school and I wanted to see if any of her teachers had suddenly become less ineffectual (some had, some hadn’t, as is the way of things) – Please note, I wholly appreciate that Secondary School teachers have a set of problems all their own, mostly that they’re no longer allowed to punish, discipline, chastise, castigate, reprove or otherwise beat senseless their charges, who are often taller, wider, spottier and not beholden to any kind of government ratified rulesets that tie their hands firmly behind their backs – But then some are just namby-pamby twig-eating liberal hippies (My name’s Ben Elton… Goodnight!)

Ah no, don’t go… I haven’t finished yet.

Where were we? Ah yes, day off.  As luck would have it, it was not long after Mrs. Dandy had told me that my presence was required, and then reminded me – a mere fifteen or sixteen times, that I should book the day as holiday, that I was contacted by the massively popular, Norfolk based mixed media artist, Caroline Hack – whom I’ve known, via a plethora of mutual friends on social media, for a number of years, who requested a ‘meeting’.

N.B. Aren’t commas brilliant?

If you’ve not heard of the hugely talented lady in question, then it probably means that you’re just not that into historic whaling or wildly inappropriate Scandinavian songs about whaling, or whaling shanties, or fabric sperm whales, or Moby Dick, or maps, or the scientific study of the actual ratio of Polar-bear head size to polar bear skull size (Did you know, the Inuit name for the polar bear is ‘Nanook’? – I know I didn’t) – If you get the chance to visit her at one of her many residencies, you totally should – She’s very educational. The Memsahib even described her as incredibly passionate (Which is odd, because I only left them alone long enough for me to get the teas in – Earl Grey they were, very nice… I hugely recommend the Coffee House at the Central Museum & Art Gallery in Derby – Good staff, very clean.)

The brilliant Nature Gallery at Derby Museum

We met up in the Nature Gallery of my local museum (see above) – Being two people who had never met ‘in the flesh’ – We agreed that, to make things easier, she would wear a badge featuring a whale and I would wear a bow-tie, as I often tend to in every-day life.  We found each other with not too much bother, as most of the other patrons were less than four feet high and we could see over them – It was a visiting school party, rather than the organised outing for morally corrupt dwarves that you lot were no doubt imagining.  

The reason for this somewhat cloak and dagger meeting was that I’d received the honour of being invested into a world-spanning art project that Caroline has masterminded.  She has produced a limited edition of exactly 100 numbered, hand-made, foot-long, fabric whales that she provides to the great and the good (and myself, and the famous author and mental health Champion James Josiah, and my good friend Nathan – whose wife Victoria has the patience of a saint – trust me) on the proviso that they ‘have adventures’ and are photographed doing so – It’s a sort of global, movable art installation you see, in a ‘here is one of my whales at the top of the Empire State Building.’ or ‘This whale is posed, ironically, on an authentic James Durfee harpoon from 1862.’ Or ‘Here is a whale being held by Russell Crowe on the set of Noah.’ It’s a sort of a big deal you see, made me genuinely proud to be a part of it, and all it cost me was the basing of a character on Caroline in my new book – The fact that I chose to base a Goddess on her didn’t enter into it at all of course. *cough*

I was also introduced to the thoroughly wonderful Andrea Hadley-Johnson and her colleague, Rachel Atherton, both from the museum. Who, apart from being stupendous people in their own right, let us surreptitiously, but very reverently, fondle a real, live (well, not live, obviously – That’d be bloody silly, we’d have drowned and/or gotten horribly gored and eaten or something probably) narwhal tusk.  They’re funny old things you know - quite heavy, hollow, and almost freakishly smooth – Which is due to all the ceaseless fondling I should imagine – And yes, I’m talking about the tusk, not the nice ladies from the museum – I don’t know them anywhere near well enough to be able to say whether the same description applies.

Mrs Dandy, a Narwhal tusk, and half a Rachel Atherton

There was a tiny amount of pomp and a smattering of ceremony, photos were taken, words were said, the Pangolin-whale was introduced to the real Pangolin who resides in the museum’s Nature Gallery and then passed into my greasy clutches with whispered washing instructions and threats that my ownership was merely a ‘Fostering’ relationship and the artist retained the right to instantly repossess it if she suspected any kind of foul-play was on the cards.

Pagolin Whale meets Pangolin (Tweet via Derby Museum Nature Gallery)

At one point, Ms Atherton asked me if I was a ‘Naturalist’ – which is a damn fair question under the circumstances, and she was politely taken aback when I replied, “No, I’m just an idiot, who sometimes names his books after Pangolins.” – Which is, from now on, how I will introduce myself to dignitaries of any type.

On the whole, it was an excellent day, I met some wonderful people, visited a truly brilliant museum (Support your local museum – Both by attending regularly and donating if you can – They are under threat), drank some splendid tea, and I became the owner of a whale, who amongst you can say that you’ve spent a dull Tuesday doing all those things?

For those of you who would like to know what number my whale was, of the strictly 100 whales involved in the project… well, It was number 101, obviously.

Well, have you got one inside you?

Christopher Hitchens, Political commentator and columnist for Vanity Fair (amongst other famous publications) once famously said:

"Everyone does have a book in them..."

And he was right, we've all got a story to tell.  It could be factual, maybe things that have happened to you that you think other people might find interesting, The sort of things you say when you've had one pint of Creme-de-Menthe too many and you suddenly stand up, throw your arms wide and shout "I once painted the CND symbol on a sleeping pig using a spray-can of orange icing and a wallpaper brush!"

Or, they could be made up, you could have an idea for a great story about a talking weasel called Chip McFlinders who can wave his little fingers and create a mirror, that can take him back in time to visit historical situations... But all the people have been replaced by other, improbably named, time-travelling weasels.  I don't know, although I think "Chip McFlinders and his waving mirror fingers." might have been the working title for one of John Grisham's books... Think it was The Pelican Brief if I remember correctly.

Fact or fiction, funny or serious, uplifting or horrifying - It's the germ of an idea that eats away at you. The more people say "You should write a book." the more you start to agree with them.  And you really should, it's wonderfully theraputic.  Whether you choose to cram it all down in a spiral-bound notebook that you've managed to liberate from work when the person with the key to the stationery cupboard wasn't looking, or tap it away into a hookey copy of Word that was on a CD that came with the laptop when you bought it from eBay.

Both equally valid, and I know people who call themselves 'Writers' that do both quite happily (Not at the same time though... That way madness lies).

But you, the people reading this, the ones that don't even call yourselves a writer, certainly not an author, will look at that blank piece of paper, or that snowy-white screen with the slowly blinking cursor and go a bit dry in the mouth, or a bit pale, or a bit cold.

Then your mind'll go blank.  Then you'll wonder what you were thinking ever imagining that a snot like you could ever write a book and you'll slam the lid/cover of your chosen writing media, make yourself a coffee and watch Jeremy Kyle, whilst all the time looking at your laptop/notebook as if it's in some way its fault.

This is the point where a lot of people give up.

The trick to getting past this point is simple, just DON'T stop! Write something, anything...

Write 'Once upon a time.'
Write 'It was a dark and stormy night.'
Write 'Though brilliantly sunny, Saturday morning was overcoat weather again, not just topcoat weather.'

Write 'We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert.'

Write 'Call me Ishmael.'

(There are people who might think you weren't taking things particularly seriously if you used the last three though in fairness)

But the fact is, once you start, it's difficult to stop - It's addictive, like snorting cocaine, having tattoos or collecting Pokemon.  You'll find yourself sat on the train, congratulating yourself for remembering to charge your laptop so that you can write a few hundred words.  You'll find yourself on the bus, wishing that it wasn't too bumpy a journey for you to write anything and wondering whose still warm urine is sloshing against your new Manolo Blahnicks.

Most of all, you'll be kicking yourself for not starting sooner.  The sooner you start writing, the sooner you finish the book.  The sooner you finish the book, the sooner you can get it published.  The sooner you get it published, the sooner you can print out your sales figures and customer reviews from Amazon and rub them all over your body like a literary hippopotamus bathing in a sea of Kindles.

"But getting a book published is difficult and what if it's not any good?" You think to yourself when your initial euphoria has died down.  It's true, not everyone's good at everything... I mean, I am, obviously - But then you all knew that already, you read this blog.

But there are a plethora of people around and about that are more than willing to help...

*Take a deep breath and hold on to your bear-skin balaclavas, there's an advert off the starboard bow!*

People like The Penguin's Head, a group that I'm proud to be able to say that I have some small stake in.  It's three normal guys (Well, two normal guys and me... Actually it's one normal... Thinking about it, it's three pretty odd guys) who love writing and think that more people doing it will drive standards up.

We're probably monumentally wrong about that, but its gotta be worth a punt, hasn't it?

TPH will try and help get your idea out into the big, wide world.  We'll take your first-born manuscript, take an look at it and give you some feedback FOR FREE! And what do you get for free nowadays? (apart from that notepad you nicked in the fourth(ish) paragraph above) I'll tell you... Bugger all! That's what you get for free nowadays.

Once we've given you the feedback, and we've all decided whether we want to work with each other, then we talk about the services we can provide (editing, proofreading, formating, design, publishing etc.) and how much it's likely to set you back.  You're still under no obligation at this point obviously.  We haven't done anything except read a bit, and who in their right mind would charge for that?

If you carry on the relationship from that point, eventually the world officially becomes your lobster... You're an author, you'll have a book you can hold in your hand, or a series of electrical impulses you can read on your Kindle at least.

And you'll feel smug.

And you can tick off another thing on your bucket list.

And you'll never have to think "I wonder if I could write a book?" ever again, because you will have done so, and it doesn't matter that your significant other used it for swatting a fly and it's got a greasy smear on the back because it's got your name on the spine, and that is a pretty immense feeling.

But don't take my word for it.  You should ask this lady... She's 'Gone through our mill.' and come out the other side reasonably unscathed.  You should go to Amazon and buy her new poetry book right now.

It's available in both good old-fashioned paperback and for the new-fangled Kindle HERE 

You should buy it, it's great.

Then you should buy a couple of my books from HERE

Then you should review them all (favourably) and settle back into your favourite reading chair and give yourself a big hug... You've just made an independent author feel good about themselves.

And THAT'S what life is all about.

(P.S. Christopher Hitchens finished his quote with, "...but in most cases that's where it should stay."  I chose to gloss over that part.)