'Hell, Let's put it to a vote...' Could the EU referendum be the ultimate survey of British intellect?

As I dust off the tumbleweeds gathered on my blog, I realise the extent to which I've stayed silent on the European Union Referendum is unusual for me. Cards on the table...  I am an economic migrant.  I live in Amsterdam.  I have worked out of Paris for the last five years.  I have always regarded Europe as what it has been for people of my generation... a space within which I can move, taking advantage of the opportunities on offer in whatever country those opportunities present.

As this campaign has unfolded over the last few months, I've become more and more concerned at the divisions and, for want of a better word, weaknesses it has exposed in the supposedly 'balanced' demographically selected audiences on the many debate programmes cluttering up our screens. These were exemplified earlier this week by an audience debate on the Victoria Derbyshire morning offering on BBC News 24.  The idea was that a group of 'undecideds' would hear the 'facts' from both sides and then come down on one side or other.  It was, in parts, possibly the most depressing piece of television I've recently witnessed.  It wasn't even the ill informed shouting, or the misrepresentation of fact from both sides or even the total lack of courage in the mediation of the debate.  The worst part was this.

"How are we supposed to make up our minds when no one is explaining it to us?" This abdication of intellect... of free will... of any sort of independent thought belies our status as a developed country when a proportion of our population expect to be spoon fed neutral balanced arguments by their televisions.  This is not the 1980s.  The internet is swimming with information if we care to look for it.  Numerous explanations, for example of the difference between the EU, the EEC, the European Court of Human Rights that all get lumped together into a grey amorphous blob, particularly by Euro-Sceptics.  If our citizens genuinely wanted to know or even cared what the facts were, we could spend the time finding out.  But no, even many of those who campaigned to 'have their say' do not wish to inform their opinion if it costs any kind of effort on their part.  They wait, entitled but impotent, for some other entity to tell them how to think.  the only redeaming quality was that after witnessing the tone of the debate in the Brexit camp, a substantial number of the undecideds and even one or two from Brexit disavowed their original camp 'because of the tone and conduct of those on the leave side.' My only hesitation in welcoming this is that you should really not need to go on a TV debate to understand it.

I probably shouldn't be irritated by those who wait, professing their ignorance and supposedly, their power to change it of their own accord.  They, at least know and have a level of comfort with their lack of qualification in the matter.  Worse than that are those who espouse their dislike of the EU based on 'Too many foreigners'... based on 'We should do things for ourselves...' People who have no factual reference for their feelings other than a sense of unease at people who don't look like them or sound like them, longing for the misty eyed hangover of empire as if we are not living in a globalised, interconnected world where sovereignty is voluntarily pooled in numerous organisations, many established and championed by the British.

Hold on... I hear you say.  You're starting to sound like an elitist. That is, I assume, the reason why when an educated person such as Victoria Derbyshire or David Cameron stays silent when, even on an organised debate programme, ill informed views are not challenged.  As a nation, we like to borrow and import our culture from the USA, but I hope and pray that we do not seek to import the fear of education, the 'Ordinary Joe' syndrome that seeks to place the same validity on every opinion, regardless of what if anything underpins it. That hope is becoming forlorn.  You see it - the huge reliance in the Vote Leave ranks upon their invisible army of 'Punters' or 'The Man in the Street', or his even more stunted cousin, the 'Man in the Pub'.  As someone with an eye for and interest in language, sentences like 'Good, British common sense' stand out.  They are strategic and they are aimed at validating and beguiling those who do not want to think for themselves.

Oscar Wilde is quoted as saying that he 'would not engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed man'.  Yet politicians and even the media pander to the 'Gillian Duffy's of this world, terrified of a 'gaff' where they actually say what they really think of the level of discourse.  They will not answer narrow gut belief with fact, will not humiliate their opponent out of fear.  Whilst 'bigot-gate' was not how Brown should have responded, and indeed would not have but for being overheard, we are in desperate need of people willing to ask a follow up question to a Gillian Duffy, to a man in the pub, and if necessary, show their one line gut beliefs for what they are - paper thin and influenced by personal prejudice and a simplicity of thought that does nobody in this country any credit. Were there to be a rematch televised debate between Duffy and Brown, we know how it would turn out.

As someone who works in education, it is worth looking at education statistics.  According to Yougov, Only 15% of likely Brexit voters have anything more than a high school education.  As a university lecturer I can certainly validate the notion that a degree is not in and of itself a sign of intellect, but it rarely hurts. Remain voters incidentally are more than twice as likely to be degree educated, but the real danger is not in academic education but in levels of information, and a cultural willingness not to be informed on any subject save what Kardashians are doing.  As in America, there is a growing sense that the wilfully ignorant must be important.  When measured on national census stats, less than 27% of Britons aged between 15 and 74 have a higher education and this number falls further when the 74+ group is added.  We must be bolder in confronting this and not be shamed into believing that education is somehow an impediment to 'good British common sense'.  Incidentally, this educational curve is exactly the same as those demographics more likely to express bigoted or racist views and vulnerability to the extreme right so whilst Brown may have been off the mark, his instincts also match the curve.

So while Oscar Wilde may sound clever, the line I prefer is actually from Coen Brothers movie, 'O Brother Whereart thou' .

Pete: Wait a minute. Who elected you leader of this outfit? 


Ulysses Everett McGill: Well Pete, I figured it should be the one of us with the capacity for abstract thought. But if that ain't the consensus view, then hell, let's put it to a vote. 

'Hell, let's put it to a vote...' Those very words must be echoing around the educated brain of David Cameron right now.  They may be the last ones he hears in his political life.  The catch 22 is perfect.  Having stoked anti-European sentiment for 30 years, the more modern part of the Tory party is now reliant upon people who despise it to keep the UK in Europe.  The lack of any optimism brings the debate into a territory of 'The EU is a very frustrating organisation which I dislike but the risks of leaving are too great' vs 'The EU is a very frustrating organisation which I dislike and we should leave it.'  If that's the choice, no wonder Brexit is winning.  Leaving makes more sense if that is your choice.  If I genuinely believed that to be the case, I'd vote leave too.  But it isn't the case and here's why.

The EU is an astonishing piece of political and progressive optimism.  Big politics in a political environment of retail offers and self interest.  In a landscape where your choices are the narrowing centre of focus groups or rising extremes on either side, this is an optimistic, ambitious notion that says we can all share in the possibilities of a whole continent - the biggest and most economically powerful continent in the world, and by the way, almost half made up of southern and ex eastern block countries that are still developing.  In other words... there will be growth, because modernising, however slowly, is what Europe does.  Come to France, come to Amsterdam, to Germany - look at the infrastructure.  In a world where no system is perfect the economic, social, cultural and lifestyle possibilities are mind-blowing.  Yes, there are layers of government, elected and nominated by our elected national governments but that is to be expected in a union where pooled and nationalised sovereignty must be held in balance.  A greater sense of balance, proportionality and representation would certainly benefit our own hugely undemocratic electoral system.  The European system with its proportions and factions is far more representative than the politics of our own country where only two English parties are granted meaningful representation in Parliament and Scotland comes out as a one party state.  It is the project of those who love and live for politics.  In Britain, interest in politics has always come a poor second to what drives our politicians red or blue - naked interest in the consolidation of their own power.

It is also a bear pit.  It is a competitive, combative never ending arm wrestle for power and while we moan and threaten to take our ball and go home because the 'mean Europeans keep outvoting us' it is still against all odds and logic, a battle of power we are winning.  Why?  Because we have the world's first and second language.  As much as they would dislike hearing it, levels of English in Europe are on the rise generation to generation.  Slowly... very slowly, our language is shaping the continent and we have the opportunity to drive this process further, to lead, unhandicapped by 30 years of conservative distrust that has tied our hands behind our back.  We could truly own the place.  That's why I vote to remain - because I work alongside Europeans in Europe and partake of the wonderfully varied culture and shared culture alike.  Europe is not just for a holiday.  It is the biggest political long game in town and it is slowly creating a consolidation of shared power built on genuine democratic principles.  That is why it is complex and multi layered.  Autocracy and fascism are simple for a reason.  It is where we live and our rights as EU citizens offer us unrestricted access to a union of some of the oldest countries and civilisations in the world.  Europe, and indeed the world is filled with opportunity if we give our citizens the tools they will need to grasp it.

Which brings me back to the Man in the Pub and let me put it in very unacademic terms.  If the Man in the Pub is the one in five Brits who leave school without useable GCSEs... If he dwells on defiantly in his small town, expecting that a job will magically be created for him to match his level of skill, motivation and education... If the only language he speaks is English and barely even that... If he believes that unskilled immigrants are taking his job even though they don't have the advantage of his native language or his good free education and he feels powerless to stop them...  If he has opinions on the EU and the world but doesn't bother to find out the facts and worst of all, if he still believes all these things without the partial excuse of being over 60... then we, as a nation should not be allowing his opinions to dictate how our country is run.

Why?

Because the Man in the Pub is f****d.

If not by Eastern Europeans then by the Chinese, or the Indians, the Brazilians, the Turks or even his own countrymen and women who are more hungry to better themselves and see that the world we have created is a competition and the competition will only become more fierce as the years pass. And if other humans don't get him, automation will, Uber will, technology will render him obsolete. The man in the pub does not want change unless it is a direct benefit to him.  He fears it because he does not believe he has the capacity to adapt.  He doesn't want to adapt.  He wants the world to spin toward him.  He does not want to be forced to compete and begs for the 'red tape' he despises in the EU to protect him in the UK from the unskilled hoards who are an existential threat... because in spite of what the Daily Mail tells him, those who come to the UK do come to work.  They do learn English and they do compete, keeping their business costs low in a way that any Conservative leaning small businessman would approve of... but for the fact that they're not from his country.

The most important fact the Man in the Pub should consider is this.  Those leading and championing Brexit are not the man in the pub, though they may occasionally frequent one to hold up a British brewed ale for the camera.  The Brexiters do not care about the Man in the Pub.  They are using his lack of meaningful engagement and limited education on the issues for their own gain, pandering to his patriotism and natural distrust of anything outside his own limited experience and if they win, then the Britain they create will not benefit him.  He will suffer for the ease with which he can be manipulated and take the fall regardless as the true politics of the Brexiters asserts itself in power.  He will find his benefits cut, his services privatised, taxes lowered for those more wealthy than him... those who 'create wealth'.  He will not see his industries or job protected because that is not the politics of those who champion Brexit.  His access to education will be more severely limited as the costs of University are increased and his children will not enjoy the freedoms he himself had... and spurned.  Their world will be smaller and their opportunities fewer because small mindedness was allowed to win the day.

So to the Man in the Pub, and those who champion Brexit, I beg only this.  Look at the leaders of this movement.  If you read only one thing, read about their politics, their positions on the big issues, the NHS, taxation, education... Don't expect anyone else to do that work for you and don't trust anyone who wants to spoon-feed you. (I include myself in this) Look at the Britain they would create if you empower them by granting them victory. Look at who shares their opinions.  It is more than possible to want to vote for Brexit without being racist, but know that the racists are voting with you and you with them.  Know that their reasons whilst not your reasons are being empowered by your complicity.  And to those men and woman who do not see themselves as represented by the march of the Brexiteers.  It's time we stopped pandering, stopped allowing and condoning ignorance.

It's time to take back the pub.

Where is Education in the British Election?

As the British election campaign draws to a close,  the political parties are making their final passionate pleas to the electorate.  In the era of ‘retail offer politics’, the election debate has been dominated by last minute offers and overshadowed by the myriad of speculation surrounding combinations for coalition.  Notable in its absence has been any great discourse around the area of education, particularly with the ghost of Tony Blair's three word mantra still ringing in many ears.

In this, it can be argued that the politicians are led by the public.  Numerous polling on the ‘issues of greatest concern to the electorate’ produce the same list of concerns.  Immigration, the NHS, The Economy dominate with education a relatively distant fourth according to the latest Ipsos Mori poll conducted with the Economist. (April 30^th)

It has been notable that the areas of debate that have featured education have often subsumed it into other headline areas of concern.  The number of school places are discussed, but in the open debates and discussion programmes that have come to characterise this campaign, the conversation quickly becomes more about immigration than education.  This is reflected in the headline policies of the parties, particularly those on the right.

The Conservative Party, still likely to poll the largest number of seats has made its flagship policy one of expansion and deregulatory philosophy.  ‘Free schools, funded by the state but run by parents, teachers or third parties outside council control.’ (Telegraph Newspaper, 2^nd May 2015) At least 500 extra free schools will be built if the Conservatives win the election, David Cameron has said, in addition to promises about the number of apprenticeships, something largely subsumed into the debate on employment and benefit culture.

Free schools have a level of freedom to set their own curriculum and employ teachers without formal teaching qualifications – something that Labour Shadow Education Minister Tristram Hunt tried and failed to make a key debate issue from.  The argument of the danger of ‘unqualified people teaching our kids’ struggled to gain any real traction, largely because most voters older than 30 were more than likely themselves taught by unqualified teachers, including senior figures in all political parties.

Labour’s headline education policy is simple.  The party supports a one third decrease in tuition fees, from a capped maximum of £9,000 per year to £6000.  On paper this should be an effective policy, however, public trust in declarations around University tuition is at an all time low after the Liberal Democrat pledge of the 2010 election.  This broken promise is, according to the latest polling, set to be a defining factor in a two thirds reduction in seats for the party.

The fallout of this has understandably made the Liberal Democrats extremely reticent to discuss education at all and brought a note of caution to the promises of all the major parties.  The Liberal Democrats have shifted their focus away from the disaffected student to parents of the youngest children, proposing ‘15 hours free early education to all three-to-four year-olds and 40 per cent of two-year-olds.’ They have also aimed policies at building a stronger link between investment per pupil and need, encouraging higher spending in the most deprived areas.

Indeed, all three major parties have made promises around departmental spending and this has characterised the second half of the debate regarding protected investment as each party tries to avoid being forced to list the areas where spending cuts are set to fall.  No party has made education a protected area, meaning that the national education budget will face decreases in the coming five year term.  Lack of funds, increasingly entrenched and ‘blue sky policy’ weary teacher’s unions provide another obstacle to big policy change, as discovered by the ignominious reshuffling last year of Conservative Education Minister Michael Gove, in spite of broad public support for his reforms.

Perhaps the greatest reason why education is not leading the election as an issue in comparison to previous years is this – meaningful policy change in relation to education is an investment issue, a long term commitment from which the results might not be seen for a generation of pupils.  In an election as close and increasingly bitter as this one, it could be argued that the long term vision is being sacrificed for the short term political soundbyte, the ‘retail offer’ designed to move that last undecided voter.

Issues of national statistical interest, such as Britain’s fluctuating position in the various league tables are less likely to drive voters who are being encouraged from all sides to appeal to their own self interest in their political choice.  Because of this, whoever wins tonight, education in the United Kingdom faces an uncertain future.

Charlie and the man in the street

In approaching this post, circumstance has perhaps done me a favour.  My educational consultancy work based in Paris was at its apex when the events unfolded there and our deadlines prohibited me from the blog response I wanted to make - most likely an impassioned defence of liberty and freedom of speech, a voice amongst the many spurred on by fear for and love of my colleagues in Paris and my journalistic instincts from years as a writer and satirist of many things, including religion.

I was not able to make that response, and as a result, I have been forced to think. My anger has cooled... the media blitz has waned and something tells me that now might be the time to speak with what passes for a clear head these days. The demonstrations in Paris and around the world made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. As the only British partner in a French company, I know the power of the French passion, to us an almost child-like intensity with which they feel and unleash emotion.  I would put this on a list (along with gastronomy and sex) of things they do better than us.

In a world where nationalism is perceived as an almost ugly, slightly barbaric mentality, its outpouring, even in the name of values we share, even in the name of Charlie, or Ahmed, or unity or love will be treated with caution, or even trepidation by those who do not perceive that those values are theirs to share in.  I know this, because that trepidation has been voiced by those closest to me, who maintain the almost unbreakable sense of vulnerability through 'otherness', whether it be in their religion, their race, or the colour of their skin.  This otherness, unlike these attacks has little to do with Islam save that it is one of its many facets.

This is an uncertain or even frightening time to be 'other'.  In France, the far right is polling at historical levels.  The history of the last few decades has been that when faced with Le Pen as a realistic possibility, the people of France have come together, from the moderate left and right, and blocked a chance at a victory for the Front National.  I have every faith that this will happen again, but there is no mistaking the sentiment and
for me, not enough serious questioning of what drives it.

Perhaps the ultimate price of empire, both in Britain and France will prove to be a moral inability to claim exclusivity to our cultural identity. We traversed the globe when it seemed larger.  Far off lands were truly far off.  We acted and prospered in our own nationalistic interest. And now, the globalisation of our national soul is something that we struggle to rationalise, to discuss or in the case of our politicians, to manage as those children of the empire come to us - Children upon whose shores we landed as well armed migrants possessed of a clinical, at times deadly ideology of nationalism, colonisation and even slavery.

"What does this mean for Britain?"  Every media outlet has been quick to invite parallels, to draw comparisons, to envisage a "Paris style attack" in London, or a full scale invasion which according to CNN will be launched from the Islamic Republic of Birmingham. Perhaps the more pressing question is more complex. I want to ask it.

"Is it right to wish to preserve a sense of national identity that is founded on exclusive ideas?" In this I would include a Judeo Christian underpinning to a broadly secular society.  Should this be fought for, spoken for, preserved either in law or even as a moral principle?  Is it even possible to do these things when growing numbers of people born in this country hold ideologies that are alien to the 'green and pleasant' idyl of UKIP and the people tempted to vote for them.  Unlike in science fiction, alien does not have to mean hostile, but differences couched in faith, when politicised can only lead to conflict. Politicised Islam invites the rebuttal that this is a 'Christian country'. (One religion with alien origins rejects another)

So what is the answer?  Is it numerical?  Is there a magic number of people of 'different' colour, accent or faith that a society can absorb, integrate and sustain before the fear of 'otherness' is felt by those who would consider themselves indigenous. (An elegant word when used about woodland birdlife - an ugly loaded one when used about people)  Whom should we listen to?  The politicians? The minorities themselves?  Can they adapt to all this freedom?  Should they adapt and if they can't should they 'go back to their own countries', (Even if that does mean Birmingham)  It seems that politicians look in small part to minority groups to say the right things. (The MCB has not covered itself in glory this week) Is there an unspoken price to be paid as a migrant or the child of one. The sense that no matter what you do, the British or French society will never truly accept you or belong to you to the same extent as it does to those who look and speak and pray like the majority, no matter how liberal that society claims to be? No government would dare say this even if the hard logic of it is difficult to dispute.  For their majority view, they look to, and speak of and act on behalf of 'The man in the street.'

The man in the street, or as the chill of winter sets in, the man in the pub is a man whose opinions come from the things he has witnessed in the street, or watched on the news, fed by a media that tailors its content to his reading level and attention span. The man in the street is not one for long conversations.  He is someone who believes there is a simple answer to every problem.  The man in the street seems to be able to use the phrase 'I'm not racist but...' without tasting the irony in his gut.  The man in the street is selfish.  Even if he doesn't enjoy his own circumstances, he does not wish them to change.  The man in the street has been taught to fear the alien, to distrust bureaucratic europeans, scrounging migrants, Muslims who will 'impose Sharia law' on him.

It is a shame of our democracy and an utter failure of political and intellectual courage that the man in the street must be pandered to, in words politicians believe he understands - words designed to enforce his gut feelings and give him the sense that 'something must be done.'  The man in the street is being played, and even if he suspects this, he has no option, no recourse.  Everyone has come to him - put on his ill fitting clothes and tried to convince him that they think his views are important.  The man in the street has two choices.  he can withdraw his vote - give in to apathy or he can send a message by voting for the party that has least shame in pretending to be him.

The man in the street is not Charlie.  I am not Charlie.  Before the attacks, Charlie was fighting for its market share, smothered by the self censorship of mainstream media, cornered by its own politics under the weight of this broken bovine conspiracy of consensus of what one does not say. My personal belief is that at times, this pushed Charlie beyond common sense.  A lone voice, fighting a tide will always raise that voice and occasionally lose the focus of its words in the process. This is a human failing, one that should be understood.  The Charlies of this world are braver than me and have a greater stake in their society than the man on the street.  The Charlies of the world do not keep quiet, regulate their content out of fear of the letter of complaint, the online questionnaire or even the death rattle of an AK47.  Charlie's murdered journalists were victims of an ideology that is well funded, growing in influence and achieving success on the complicated and neglected battlefields of Syria and Nigeria, and in the faltering revolution of Libya. We should not underestimate the scale of the threat of this ideology.  It cannot be reasoned with or rationalised, something it shares not just with its parent religion of wider Islam, but with all religions.  In that, the battle is philosophical.  You cannot treat with it, give it concessions.  There are none that could satisfy it, even with the removal of Israel from the map or the banning of all criticism of Islam. Intolerance does not thank you for your tolerance.  It seeks to undermine it.

Perhaps then, it is the undesired duty of a largely secular Britain to become a nation of armchair theologists. Time and again, we are told that extremist attacks have 'nothing to do with Islam', by people that one suspects have at best, a rudimentary grasp of this major world religion. Whilst this argument is semantically flawed in a way that is both obvious and infuriating, the message behind it... (Don't let this be an excuse to take your new found righteous anger out on any vaguely brown person wearing a scarf) is one that should be listened to, and perhaps, communicated in a less patronising form. Perhaps this could be a starting point for something vital.  Britain, and British society must build a relationship with Islam. To do this, we may need our abandoned, shamed sense of nationalism to create a vibrant, generous, spiritual and perhaps, uniquely British version of the faith that gives ownership to those who would not advocate suffering on anyone for an expression of their belief, or lack thereof. This is not a new idea, and to achieve it, there will need to be give on both sides. It will take a generation to achieve and there will likely be pain along the road to achieving it.

Nationalism does not have to be an identity built on the foundations of a past.  English nationalism in particular has found this problematic. We need a nationalism of the future - One that is honest about its past and does not seek to glorify or vilify it.  We need a nationalism that finds a place for our legacy, the children and grand children of empire, one that gives them and us something to believe in - an identity that is strong enough to look past the colour of someone's skin or the god they pray to, an identity strong enough, that petty tribalism, backwardness and oppression in all their forms cannot stand against it and are dissipated by it. We need a national identity that holds no faith sacred. This is the only way to function in a multi-faith society in which no one spiritual leader or book may claim moral certainty. But secular opinion must also be challenged.  The man in the street must no longer hold sway.  There is a reason he does not run the country, let's not run it for him. This means leaders must grow a backbone and condemn white, black and brown wrong-headedness with the same vigour, whether it be motivated by religion, or run of the mill ignorance.

It is difficult to say whether the challenge of integration that Britain faces is as great or greater than that of France. Countries are big places, one city or village differs from the other. But the challenge is there either way, and history has taught us that national unity is only achievable in the face of a great cause. Could that cause not be to be better at integration than the French? They're already better at sex and cooking, so I for one, don't think we can let them have this. Could our great mission not be to discover and patent the model for functioning integrated societies in a globalised nation state in which traditional measures of identity are eroded? What would it be to have the British political model of integration implemented the world over? There might just be one or two in this faded imperial nation who would enjoy the symmetry of that.

How to train your zombie novel

Ok, time to come clean...

For years now, I have built a career upon being one of those bad-ass writers who will not write spec work.  Writer's block is not a thing.  You pay me in advance and in a currency of my choice.  You can crit my work -  go on, make my day, for I am not like other writers.  You cannot make me cry.  I am detached, analytical, my brain is a series of wheels and cogs. Sharp to the touch. I will analyse your ideas, harvest the things I can use from your critique, discard those I consider to be merely opinion as opposed to analysis.  I can do all these things because I have no emotional attachment to my work.  It is a collection of letters and phrases, each deliberate in its deployment for the singular purpose of meeting a remit, producing a product that behaves as it is supposed to.  I am a master of my craft and you will pay for my expertise.

And then I accidentally wrote a novel.

I say accidentally... it really was.  After the collapse of a particularly difficult film venture, the loss of 9 months of income, 12 months of endeavour and a lifetime of pride, it just seemed like the thing to do.  Nobody asked for it, nobody was expecting it, waiting to read it.  It was my secret and it became the receptacle for a sonic wave of anger, frustration, disappointment, but also hope, pride, political awakening and connection to a city, and in turn, for four of its imaginary denizens, their components plucked from people I have loved, feared, loathed and stood in awe of.

I did every single thing I teach my students not to.  I wrote without a plan.  I prioritised the work to the detriment of paid employment, regular meals and personal hygiene. (There is a dark corner of my couch that has seen some things)  My fiancé is still deeply mystified as to why I would seek that moment to expend that much energy when so much was at stake.  I couldn't stop.  I wrote without much understanding of the world of prose.  I was an interloper, charging across vast unknown plains of words and encountering precious little resistance.  2 thousand words per day, 3 thousand, 5...  It became something that consumed me, a punch bag inside my own head that I could unload upon.  And fuck it felt good...

Once I let the secret slip, good friends whispered wise words of caution as the word count approached 70, 80, 90 thousand.  The thing started to take shape.  Started to become something unexpected.  It had completely broken out of what weakened remit I had chained it with and was rampaging loose under its own momentum, savaging the things I was supposed to be doing, ripping out the throat of anything that threatened its reign of terror.

And then, one day it was done.

I couldn't look at it for almost a week, or much of anything else for that matter.  I left it to skulk, pad around, perhaps in the hope that it might of its own volition find a way out into the world that did not involve me at all.  But no.  It waited... with something almost resembling obedience.  It now had expectations of me that I would have to try to meet.

It felt like taking a rabid dog to the vet.  I coaxed it out from under the couch, ran my fingers through its grammar one last time in the hope of calming it before forcing it into the pet carrier of a 50 page sample and a synopsis that upon reflection was infinitely less revealing of its origins and purpose than this article.  Needless to say, it howled all the way there, scratching at its split infinitives which were becoming raw and infected.  It didn't matter.  It would soon be out of my hands and into those of the dreaded agent, whom I was hoping would be able to diagnose clean bill of health, and perhaps proscribe a sedative for us both.

For 12 days, I sat in the digital waiting room.  At first, it felt strange not to have it around.  It felt odd to watch occasional home improvement shows of an evening.  This is, it seems behaviour utterly incompatible with the life of a professional novelist, especially one bent on writing a whole novel in three months.  Even so, with it out of the house, I began to humanise again, began to eat and bathe regularly, began to work on writing jobs that pay actual money.  I had almost returned to pre-novel levels of paranoia and neurosis when the word came in.

My novel... my poor, angry, rabid, vibrant lurcher of a novel whilst otherwise reasonably healthy, if somewhat over written, had been diagnosed with a terminal case of literary fiction.  The saddest part was, it didn't seem any the wiser about its diagnosis.  If anything, it seemed pleased to see me, as if its poor undeveloped novel brain couldn't comprehend how ill it actually was.  At least it didn't appear to be in any pain.  Like all concerned owners without any real expertise in the area, I took to the internet in an attempt to better understand the diagnosis.

For the reference of anyone else who suffers a similar diagnosis, it is important to note the following.

1.  If one types 'literary fiction' into google, its search engine helpfully adds 'is dead' as item one in the auto-complete search bar.

2.  Most of the articles you then find date back to around 2010.  My poor savage beast was as Will Self puts it, a 'Stillborn novel', written by a misguided person intent on some sort of zombie necromancy.

3.  On the plus side, there is a new wave of articles entitled 'Literary fiction is dead articles are dead.' which would seem to indicate that so dead is literary fiction that even articles bemoaning its death are now also extinct.

The news was difficult to take.  For a while, I didn't want to give up.  I looked up radical new treatments of zombie literary fiction having some success in America.  New experimental interventions that might prolong the life of my novel.  For most, the research was still in its early stages and the techniques were not as yet approved for use by the Times Literary Supplement.  My heart sank.  The agent himself had only suggested two highly drastic possible treatments, both requiring intensive surgery and long periods of medication that might change the mood of my novel, alter its behaviour...  The first was to re-envisage it as a thriller, involving the removal of characters and an increase in plot driven narrative.  The second was more drastic.  It involved the forced neutering and reconstitution of my novel as a 'Young Adult' book...

I carefully mulled over all of these options.  Both were invasive and painful treatments, the second requiring an unrequited sexual tension that I thought would be hard for my novel to bare.  My first reaction was that in order to spare my novel any further pain, and though it would be very sad it might be kinder and easier on everyone concerned to self publish it down.  But it seemed wrong to do that to such a young book that was as yet unaware of its symptoms.  Instead, I decided that it could perhaps be retrained, to somehow make the leap from angry diatribe to something more universal.  (When you try to put 'commercial literary fiction' into google, nothing comes up.)  My novel did not seem to care.

So, with the rolled up newspaper of literary theory, the chew toy of genre identity, and a firm leash attached to its authorial voice, I am going to attempt to make it something more obedient, whilst at the same time, preserving something of the wild eyed savagery of its soul.  This will be a challenge, to be sure, but then if necromancy was easy, everybody would be doing it.

Or perhaps not...

Decision Day

Decision Day

The road has been a long one but the day is finally here

A great delight of blue and white for all that hold it dear

A nation asked a question and an answer close at hand

We look inside our bravest hearts and take our final stand

I hate no man and dare to hope no man nor lass hates me

One Scot shall feel she’s ripped in half - another feels he’s free

But hope or fear one thing is clear – Our nation is awake

Let strength and pride and passion drive the choice that we must make.

Whatever warrior wins the day, that moment, there and then

We all must vow – no way, no how shall Scotland sleep again

Our future rests in our own hands, in all that we can give

Both Aye and Naw will work to build a place we’re proud to live

A Scot is not a person who lets bitterness succeed

A Scot does not define herself by malice, fear or greed

A Scot will fight and die until their cause be lost or won

A Scot forgives his foe the very day the battle’s done

I look upon my folk today - my heart swells up with pride

I see a dream that might come true, I see a dream denied

I wish I could be there with you as our people have their say

I send you all my love and hope on this decision day.

Nick Bain

A proud and hopeful Scot