Writing is Not Easy

Let’s get something straight about writing, writing is a job, a vocation, a way to pay the bills; just like an entertainment’s manager, a roadie, a bar supervisor, a bar server, a till jockey, a shelf stacker and a labourer (all of which I have done in my life).

Image result for edwardians on the beach

Why am I bringing this up now? There is a self satisfying stance when it comes to the arts and humanities by this government that we are somehow not worthy of funding or even fighting for funding. I mean, Theresa May must have a book in her and BoJo surely can crap out a master between his waffle on those bad people in the EU. David Davies now has more time on his hands so I expect a really big sculpture of an arse entitled, ‘Self Portrait #1’. Michael Gove after stripping education back to all the soulless shit that in history has defined society, like algebra and knowing the date Napoleon’s cock fell off, could crack out a collection of limericks. Esther McVey could go back to modelling for Jacob Reese-Mogg, and I am sure his nanny could do a series of charcoal sketches that give us an economic plan after the shit hits the white cliffs of Dover next March. You see, writing is hard, to think creatively, satirically, laterally, horizontally is bloody hard. It  has not been penned in under six weeks, six hours or six minutes of an orgasm. Though how anyone could hold a pen steady or keep typing during those six minutes is beyond hgggpgagbfag;kfhajahbgpf – christ, that was good, even if it only lasted six seconds – you see, writing does and can take a long time, writers think, writers often don’t realise they’re thinking; you don’t realise you’re thinking half the time and the other half is spent laughing at memes and cat films. Writers need the space to think. It doesn’t mean they’re not working. Ask a writer what they are writing and they will close up shop or shit all over your lounge rug as they bring it all out. Most stay quiet. What annoys me the most is that arts has been downplayed outside of London, as if the masses do not deserve art. Reading has also taken a battering with the recent troubles in Northamptonshire, it was clear to see where money lies and it wasn’t in libraries, so bye-bye literacy in the Midlands. If we live in a society where everyone believes that wealth, image and being famous or at least well known on instagram is important, then we are fiddling while Rome burns and we all get a little dumber. We are merely stripping ourselves from any attempt to be more than the sum of our whole parts. Reading is dangerous. Writing is radical. Art will mug you and make you think. There in lies the rub. Do we want to think? If so, then you have to accept that writing is not easy and being on Love Island is like taking your clothes off, anyone can do it, and everyone will watch. Which stays with you longer, the story that you read or were told, or the bland orange skin of some simpering fool who won’t even make it to being chip paper? Writing is not easy. Life is not easy. Ask the right questions. Ask them quickly or BoJo will crap out another big painting entitled: ‘Fucking you all over’.

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