Mr & Mrs Smmc

Nowadays, particularly living in a large city, it’s hard to imagine a time when one’s profession was a unique enough identifier to be the source of a surname. Cooper – your maker of barrels and other wooden vessels, not to mention his assistant Hooper. Fletcher – arrow-maker and medieval arms dealer. Butcher – your go-to guy for the slicing and dicing of tasty, dead animals. Smith – the basher and shaper of heated metal. All reasonable and logical enough, though I think the Kings were probably getting a bit ahead of themselves.

Even though the English language as a whole is ever-changing – new words and grammar brought in and others dispensed with by the language’s capricious users – surnames are staunch hold-outs from the past. Perhaps that’s a reason to treasure them, they provide a link to our history, which the popularity of genealogy-as-hobby surely shows is something we value. However, let’s suppose we wanted to refresh this aspect of the language too and bring it into line with modern circumstances.

One option is to do as they did before and base them on current job areas. Consultant. Actuary. Programmer. The problem is that maybe there are now too few job areas to usefully name everyone. So, we could be more specific, for example, social media marketing consultant or the infamous and barely-fictional self-facilitating media node. For those reluctant to completely rid ourselves of the historical connection, as a compromise position we could artificially age these words with some retro spelling: actuary, now actuaerie.

This process of going from an occupation to a personal identifier is one of the principal functions of language – the naming of things. Perhaps now is the time for names, or our naming of things, to give something back to language? Some of these names, in their multi-word form could get long-winded and tedious, so let’s abbreviate. Social Media Marketing Consultant: SMMC. Primary school teacher: PST. Self-facilitating media node: SFMN. Ignoring capitalisation convention in the name of innovation we arrive at Mr Smmc, Miss Pst, and Mrs Sfmn. Hard to pronounce, agreed, but they’re new words, a contribution to the language and as Wittgenstein said:

A new word is like a fresh seed sown on the ground of the discussion.

They might look like nothing now, but from them could sprout fresh, new argument.

Dear Reader

Dear Reader,
It’s commonly said, more or less, and attributed to many (in more than one language), that “if I’d had more time I would have written a shorter letter”, and this could be true here too. So too the reverse, it could become a thesis. I have form. Though it would be a brave student indeed who began his dissertation so cheekily with the words “Dear Examiner, I hope this thesis finds you well.” Not to be outdone nor forget my manners, dear reader, I hope this letter (please, play along) finds you well.

The letter is truly a stalwart, not just of literature, but of life – both of our individual and collective lives. Dear John letters. Letters sent home from soldiers in the trenches. Letters that constitute the epistolary novel. The collected letters of the famous writer or artist. Clearly even the highbrow of society engage in the voyeuristic eavesdropping of others’ lives.

And now a rejuvenation of the form is underway at The Letters Page, a new literary journal run by the good people of the School of English at the University of Nottingham. The past issues are available free to download from the website here and they’re well worth a read. To return to the beginning, but altered for the experience, in the first letter of Issue One the author declares that regrettably he has no time to write a letter. I sincerely hope that you are never forced to write the same.

Until we meet again,
The Author

Permission To Write

As we now move through the penumbra cast by the 1st January – that collective witching hour that grips people and allows them to slip into a deeper self-delusion than usual – I thought it time to write about New Year’s Resolutions before the disillusionment currently circling them engulfs them entirely and this whole blog post is rendered sterile before it’s even uploaded. Which would say it all in both a very real and meta way.

But it’s not too late, read on and you’ll see that I believe there are reasons to be cheerful yet! Is it your New Year’s resolution to try a new creative pursuit? Perhaps it’s painting or sculpture, or learning a musical instrument or new language? Or maybe even something sporty, such as a martial art or dancing.

Just over three years ago I had the urge to do some creative writing. I had ideas and the inkling that some of them were valuable, but no real sense of what to do with them or that I should even try. Instead, it seemed almost that I should just leave them until they gradually faded from memory. But why? There was no real barrier to entry; I knew how to write English, and I had pen, paper, and laptop. Still I did nothing.

As with writing, most of the creative pursuits I mentioned earlier can be done by oneself, and be self-taught at that. Buy a sketchbook and pencils; start drawing. But have you?

Perhaps like I did three years ago, you’re thinking that it’s a waste of time? That sitting down to write or draw, and to do so badly (because it will be, at first), is self-indulgent, an unjustifiable waste of your time and energy, and plain discouraging.

But you’re reading this blog now, so what changed my mind? What made me start to write after all?

The answer is simple: I enrolled on an evening-course for creative writing, which I attended for one year altogether. Quite apart from anything about the craft of writing that I have may have learnt on the course, the key point is that it gave me time and space in which to write, both in the classroom and as homework. In the classroom one has no choice, and at home, well, the fact that it was homework allowed me to trick myself into thinking it was mandatory. Any justification for sitting down to write for a couple of hours a week was now prêt-à-porter: I’m not wasting time, I’m doing my homework like a good boy should.

In short, the course gave me permission to write. And that was all I needed.

Whether it’s writing or any other creative enterprise I believe that booking a class or a series of lessons will give you the space, motivation and permission to get through those beginning, inevitably-difficult stages. After which you’ll feel capable of carrying on by yourself.

If you think this might apply to you, go do it, whatever it is and, if you like, please do share your creative plans for 2014 below! Let me know how you get on.