You just don't know...

Communication. Talking. Saying what you feel, what you mean. Being honest. Seriously, why are we so bloody crap at it?  I write this agony aunt column every month for Natural Health magazine (yeah, yeah, don’t laugh) and really, I could answer pretty well every dilemma in one word:  TALK!  Spit it out. Say what you’re feeling.  

Don’t be mean: say what you mean. 

Cos most people aren’t psychic.  They won’t intuit what you feel.  They won’t hear the words unspoken. You have to bite the bullet and say it. Not in an aggressive ‘you total manky bitch’ or ‘you ignorant fecking bastard’ way – but in a straightforward, honest ‘this is how I feel’ way.  Simple huh?

So why don’t we? 

I guess sometimes it’s because of fear.  If you know someone will act with anger or aggression, that’s good reason to keep schtum.  But then, I wonder, should you really be around someone who reacts that way in the first place?  Sometimes, maybe, you don’t want to ask the question because, in your heart of hearts, you’re scared of the answer.  Or you’re scared of looking and sounding foolish, of making an arse of yourself. 

And some people, of course, use silence and lack of communication as a kind of power game. 

But really, all of it drives me crazy.  So much misunderstanding. So much time, so many opportunities, lost through lack of words. So much hurt and pain sometimes.  Through lack of truth and honesty. 

The mind, left to its imaginings, can be an inventive beast. It can come up with all kinds of scenarios; all sorts of hurt and paranoia.  And thought is creative.  How we think can affect how we feel.  Magicians would go one step further and say that how we think can affect matter – because, really, it’s all just different forms of energy.  So we should be careful with our words, with our thoughts, with what is said and what is thought.  With what is unsaid.  Can something be unthought though?  No.  Only pushed away or buried or – better - replaced with something new.

Anyhow. Let’s be honest (ho ho), I’m not always great at the communication stuff myself.  I’m not one of life’s great splurgers.  Generally I don’t talk a whole load, truth to tell. I love silence. And silence loves me. And, yes, sometimes there can be too many words banded about. I once spent a car journey pondering the maths on how much Adrian speaks in comparison to me – I think it was a ratio of 750:1 or thereabouts.  I’m a good listener though – most journalists are. I guess it's balance again - a question of knowing when to speak and when to shut the feck up.  

Last night there was a deep and not remotely comfortable silence in the house.  Adrian and James weren’t talking.  Again.  Ye gods.  To be fair, Adrian is pretty good at expressing how he feels.  And he will readily admit if he’s done wrong.  But James is a tougher nut to crack. He’s a Scorpio, one of life’s natural silent brooding types.  I’m determined that, if I can teach James one thing, just one thing (after the self-esteem thingy of course), it will be to communicate; to be honest about how he feels.  To state his feelings clearly, openly, without losing the plot.  Yes, that will sometimes bring him heartache, of course it will, but it will also save him heartache in the long term.  So, after a suitable period elapsed (cos everyone needs to wallow for a bit), I followed him, cornered him in his lair and made him look me in the eye and talk.  And eventually he did.  And instead of launching off into ‘And he said this…’ or ‘And it’s so unfair…’ he talked about how he felt.  He spat it all out and felt – he said - much the better for it. 

As the old adage goes, better out than in.  

So, today, maybe…try being honest. Say what you feel.  Is there an elephant in the room?  Name it. Something you’ve wanted to get off your chest for aeons? Shift it. Can’t say it? Write it. Put it in a letter and sign it with a kiss (or knot).  Because, really, life can be too short for miscommunication, misunderstanding.  Yet another person I know died this week (no, no, please no commiserations – I didn’t know him well – the husband of a friend).  She heard his key in the door but he never came in.  When she went to see what had happened, she found him dead on the doorstep.  You never know how long anybody has got.  Use your time wisely eh? 

Should writers blog?

Yesterday I was scrolling through a writing forum and I read a post by an author whining about blogging. Specifically she was moaning that writers are increasingly being urged to blog, to tweet, to engage in social media. Did writers really have to write blogs, she said?  My answer was pretty simple:  if you don’t like blogging, don’t do it.  Doh.  Horses for courses and all that. 

But then I thought a bit more about it and I started to scratch my head.  This is a writer speaking. A WRITER. Someone who uses words; who communicates with words; who presumably loves words. And I was really puzzled. 

People often ask me why I blog.  After all, writing is my day job.  I’m a journalist and an author. Words pay my bills. Well, in theory. J So why on earth would I want to spend my spare time writing for free?  Er, because I enjoy it.

This blog is my place:  the place I can rant, moan, emote, pontificate, whine, laugh, throw all my toys out the pram, whatever… There is no editor telling me to cover this and that; no marketing department asking me if I'm reaching my demographic.

A blog post – 500 words or thereabouts - takes probably half an hour maximum to write.  It’s a limbering up exercise, if you like, before I flex my fingers and start on the usual writing work of the day.

Hmm, maybe not a good reason...

‘But what should I write about?’ say the reluctant author bloggers.  Holy crap!  Look around you. What excites you? What interests you? What flirts with you? What tugs you by the shirt-tails?  If I had the time I could probably write four or five posts a day.  Seriously.  Because life is interesting. People are interesting. The world is interesting.  Isn’t it?  Surely, I wonder, it should be, and above all if you're a writer. 

I think maybe the problem comes because writers feel they should write about writing (yawn). Or they should be reviewing books (which is all well and good but it’s bloody time-consuming) or interviewing other authors (which can be interesting and is something I do occasionally – but not all the time).  But why?  Why should you limit yourself to anything? 

Blog alpaca! 

Some people are very focused in their blogging.  They write purely about parenting, or food, or pets, or fitness, or politics or knitting or gardening or…hell, I dunno.  Alpacas or juggling.  Niche.  And niche is nice if you can do it.  Niche can be madly commercial.  A guy I knew made a tidy living out of baseball mini-league or whatever it’s called.  And all power to his bat.  But you have to be one of those single-minded people, someone with a particular hobby or a focused passion (or, alternatively, your blog is your business and so you’re talking work).  Personally I can’t do that.  I get bored staying on message. 

But let’s think about writers and blogging again.  What purpose does a blog serve a writer?  Why might a blog be a “good thing” for a writer?  On one hand, it’s a showcase. Firstly, it shows the raw state of your writing, without any editing.  Trust me, the copy of even some of the most famous writers looks a bit ropey round the edges before it’s knocked into shape by editors (I would name names but, having been discussing  Online Defamation Law with some lawyer friends, I’ll be cautious…) Secondly, it shows you’re flexible, that you can write up a storm on any bloody thing you choose.  I’ve been given journalism work via my blog. I’ve been approached by agents because of my blog.  I’ve been taken on amazing trips (giving me huge inspiration for my writing) because of this blog.

Connect with your audience...

On the other hand, it’s a way to connect with your readers.  A lot of people who read my books also check out the blog. At first I worried that my honesty, my fallibility, would put them off.  But it seems not.  I think blogging is maybe a way of giving a bit of yourself; of showing what makes you tick; that you’re approachable, human.  Of course, as an author that might be exactly what you don’t want to give away.  In which case I’d say, why not share other aspects of your work – poetry, short stories, character sketches. Or share some of your inspiration – music, other people’s words, images.  If people love your writing, they will want to know more. Why not be generous?  Oh how I wish more of my favourite authors would blog, or be more generous in their blogging.  

And then, on the one foot (having run out of hands). Blogging as sales ploy?  Hmm.  Do people buy my books because of my blogging?  I doubt it.  I don’t mention my books that much.  Maybe I should.  But then, see, blogging becomes just a form of marketing and that’s boring again.  However I’m sure that some people’s blogs encourage readers to buy their books. Why wouldn’t they?

Can I squeeze out another fecking poem?

Then, the argument continued, aren't there too many blogs out there already? Aren't blogs just self-indulgent waffle, word-wanking?  Well, maybe.  But then again, you could say that about a lot of writing in general, couldn't you?  Someone said that they would rather spend their time writing their fiction, or coming up with a poem or whatever. And that's a good argument. Providing you are writing those things.  I dunno about you, but I have a limit on sustained creativity of the novel-writing kind. And I sure as hell couldn't sit writing poems all freaking day. 

Anyhow.  I ask myself again.  As a writer, should you blog?  No, of course not. No should about it.  Do what you bloody well like!  Should you want to blog? Well now, that’s a different question altogether.  What do you think?   

What should you teach your child?

And my third (or is it fourth?) night without sleep. It’s getting insane, it really is. But I realised I couldn’t do anything about it so I meditated (which some say is equivalent to sleep) and worked on fixing my back. When 6am came round, I wouldn’t say I bounced out of bed but the stabbing pains in my back had vanished and I felt a curious clarity.

There’s a different dynamic in the house when Adrian’s away. James came into my room and said he had a suggestion for the problem of the Arctic Cryochamber Breakfast Room.

‘Wear your dressing gown,’ he opined. ‘Over your clothes.’

I had to laugh. He was standing, in school uniform with a long dressing gown knotted round his waist; trousers tucked into thick socks and a pair of ankle-high furry slippers.
So I followed suit and we had breakfast looking like a rum old pair of Noel Cowards.
James switched the radio from Adrian’s beloved Radio 4 to Radio One and we danced with the dogs to the Black Eyed Peas and shook with laughter and lost track of time and nearly missed the bus.

Once again, the SP and I went over the bridge and up the hill. Shrouded in mist; fine soft kisses of moisture on the air. But the path was slick and I felt my feet slide under me. So I followed the SP up the steep rocky path, through the trees, up, up, up, feeling lighter with every step. No wulfas; no beasts at all; just bird song, rustle and footfall. To the hill fort, the fastness, surrounded by ancient ghosts and then down the steep passage known as the Chimney.

Careful walking. Walking as thoughtfulness. Thinking, thinking. Mainly about my son, my lovely son – and the man he will become. It made me ponder the principles I hope I have offered him.

I don’t believe we should inflict our ideas, our beliefs on our children. But I do think we can offer up suggestions, thoughts, possibilities. When I thought about what I would like James to take through life with him, I came down to these...

1. To your own self be true. The stormy search for the self starts young and it can be a hard path. I like to think James has enough self-esteem and self-belief that he does not need to follow the herd. That he can make his own decisions; be his own person; be happy in his skin.

2. Be independent. It’s not just practical, this one (although James is learning to cook, to clean, to wash clothes and iron them; to have responsibility for animals and his own stuff – why, oh why, do people not teach their boys this stuff?). It’s about being self-sufficient; about taking responsibility for oneself.

3. Be honest but also kind. This is about discrimination and it’s a fine line for children to learn. If your self-esteem is strong enough, there is no need to put other people down. Yes, some people are hugely irritating; bombastic; stupid; plain revolting. But hey...who are we to tell them? And that leads on to...

4. Stand up to bullies and stick up for the underdog. People who bully do so from fear, from lack of self-esteem. This chimed with James and now he stands his ground. He also stands between the bully and the bullied, even when it means going against the crowd – and for that, I am so proud of my young knight.

5. Communicate. Honestly, this is so fundamental – not just to children but to everyone. Nearly every question I answer (in my dubious role of agony aunt) comes down to this. Talk. Say what you mean. Don’t expect another person to intuit your meaning. I go over this time and again with James. He – like so many of us - imagines slights that probably aren’t there; is over-sensitive; gets the wrong end of the stick.

6. Confront your fears. Fear is the biggie; the one thing that so often stops us from achieving our potential; from being who we want to be. But, once you confront a fear, stare it straight in the eye, it often backs right down. James learned his lesson on this a few years back when he was picked for a county cricket training. Nobody he knew was there and he baulked. He’s regretted it ever since. It’s not just the physical fear either (though I must say jumping off a mountain blows away a bit of that) but psychic fear too. I have taught James how to confront his nightmares; to stand up to the monsters and ask them what they have to show him (monster comes from the Latin verb, monstrare – to show, reveal).

7. Question your thoughts. Thought can deceive. Thought can lie. Thought jumps to conclusions; turns simple dilemmas into catastrophe. ‘I got a C for English. I’m rubbish.’ ‘He looked at me funny; he hates me.’ Negative thoughts are your ego acting out of fear. Okay, so you don't need to go into that with your child but, well, you get my drift...

8. Open your heart. Ah, this is a tough one to teach a child on the verge of teenagedom as you know it will bring heartache as well as joy. But, truly, hearts are made to love. I have no doubt James’s will be broken, probably many times. But, the heart is a muscle, a spiritual as well as a physical muscle – and without breaking, it does not grow. There is huge healing and transformation in unconditional love - yes, even to those you consider enemies.  I would point out that James isn’t totally convinced on this one yet

9. Have a sense of humour. Truly, the world hates a sourpuss.

10. Know when to shut up. :-)


Sorry. Longer post than intended.
What have I missed?
What do you hope to impart to your children?
How much should we impose our thoughts and beliefs on our children?



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