I had thoughts, I really did. A
useful laundry list of wonderful tips for making your prose shine and
your plots glitter.
But – maybe another time.
I can’t help noticing that it is
not merely Good Friday, but Good Friday in the Age of Plague. A lot of
people are feeling isolated or scared. The wheels of history are
grinding and they don’t care too much who they overrun.
I’m not fearful for myself or my
family. We’re comfortably isolated in the country. The weather is
wonderful. We have a big garden and our village community is actually
more active and friendly than it ever has been before. Likewise, my
brother and sister, my mother, their families, my in-laws – they’re all
fine. They’re OK.
But one of the things that
fiction achieves is to take us to the edge of inversions and new
recognitions. Fiction takes you to a place where you realise something
quite unexpected – or impossible – is also true. In Pride and
Prejudice, we know for sure that Lizzie doesn’t love Darcy. She
makes it clear. She turns down his proposal with force and asperity.
Lizzie does not love Darcy.
FACT.
But – boom – fiction does its
thing, it turns its wheels, and we realise she loves him with all her
heart, and all her soul, and all her mind. The Lizzie/Darcy love is as
complete and perfect as any we could imagine.
FACT.
Fiction isn’t so crass as to say
the first view of things was false. More like, it was incomplete. The
old binary view of truth buckles a bit at the hands of good writing.
And those inversions and completions are an essential part of fiction.
But reality is pulling the same
trick right now. We’re a celebrity obsessed culture, right? Any teenage
YouTube vlogger can sell some weirdly huge mountain of books just
because they know about (I don’t know) eyebrow threading or vegan
yogurt.
FACT.
But cometh the plague, cometh
the inversion. It turns out we have no interest in these posing
celebrities. (Billionaire David Geffen putting pics of his yacht on
Instagram as he outlines his isolation strategy. The moron.)
We have an interest and respect
for the people who work in healthcare, without acclaim and often enough
without much cash either. We turn out in our city streets to clap and
cheer and bang saucepans and say, these are our heroes. Not just today,
but forever. We have loved you always and have only known to say it
now.
FACT.
And we’re the same. We’ve had a
couple of emails from healthcare workers who have told us that they’d
love to become JW members but can’t afford the fee.
In more normal times, we’d act
like commercially responsible businesspeople. Ones with budgets and
targets and marketing plans.
But you know what? Stuff that.
Our budgets are already shredded and our marketing plans are in the
bin.
So here goes:
If you
are a healthcare worker, then tell us – and we’ll give you 75% off your
JW membership.
We don’t care if you’re a
trainee nurse, a top consultant, or a citizen volunteer. If you’re
supporting the health service at this time of crisis, just tell us. All
we need is a picture of some form of ID that shows you are what you say
you are, and we’ll tell you how to get your 75% discount.
This isn’t a clever marketing
strategy, so there are no strings attached. No ulterior purpose. Just –
the world doesn’t really need more writing mentors at the moment, but
it sure as hell needs more nurses. This is our version of standing
outside our homes and clapping.
(I should probably also say
that we won’t see your email before Tuesday at the earliest and we’ll
have a huge backlog of emails to get through at that point. So if you
do want to take us up on this offer, please bear with us. We’ll be with
you as fast as we can.)
That’s it from me – or almost.
When I write these emails, I
often discover something I hadn’t realised at the start. And that thing
about fiction inverting an apparent reality to reveal a true one
underneath – the Lizzie/Darcy love story, for example – I wonder if
that is true of all great fiction? Or all fiction? I wonder if it’s
true of mine.
Just now, I don’t know, but it’s
a damn interesting thought. Let’s bundle over to Townhouse and have a
chat about that.
Again, if you’re a healthcare
hero, let us know. We’d like to reward you.
Stay safe. Keep writing. Keep
clapping.
Till soon.
Harry
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