Author: Scott Andrews

Finding Invictus

Last night I discovered a poem via twitter.  Yes, you read that last sentence correctly.  It immediately caught the eye for that reason alone. Upon further inspection I realised that there was a certain something about the words which captivated me from the outset.  Words which standing alone, make for powerful reading, when taken in context with the story behind them become something of a literary atom bomb.

I have always had a passion for words.  My music collection mainly comprises of songwriters who write from their guts, or lyricists which make me laugh.  It’s been a long time since I was able to stomach the  generic sterile music which is omnipresent on the tv or the internet at any given hour.  For me music sits on the throne which poetry has long since abdicated.  The very best songs grab you by the balls and bring a tear to your eye.  From time to time you can discover a song which the songwriter has lived.  The authenticity it lends  is immeasurable.

William Ernest Henley was born in 1849.  When he was 12 he was diagnosed with tuberculosis.  When he was 17 he lost a leg to T.B in a time when medical care was comparatively primitive.   Incredibly he lived until he was 53.  In 1875 he wrote the following poem which was later named Invictus.  I shan’t ponder over the meaning of Invictus, as I would rather let Invictus speak for itself.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be,

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,

I have not winced nor cried aloud,

Under the bludgeonings of chance,

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears,

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years,

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

N.B – Thanks to @ibbydassantos for introducing me to Henley.

No News Isn’t Necessarily Good News

Tuesday marks the deadline I set when I last submitted my novel.  So far I have sent it to two literary agencies without reply.  I don’t know if it’s better not to hear, or if it would be better to receive a rejection.  Any which way the news certainly isn’t positive so I am already turning my attention to my next target.

It’s inevitable that I am asking myself a lot of questions, and that some part of is quietly concerned that perhaps my novel isn’t good enough and I am just a ridiculous dreamer.  On a positive note I find myself a lot less anxious than I was a month ago.  I believe I have come to terms with the fact that this process if going to be lengthy.

I am much more anxious for November 1st to come around so I can get started on my next project.  I have a rough idea that I am toying with in my head.  I am eager to get started.  So eager that I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days my brain explodes.  I am quietly confident that I can produce a novel in 30 days.  The only thing which worries me is that 50,000 words may well be a little on the short side.

The November project is keeping my mind occupied.  I am no longer concerning myself with the future.  About the only thing which has changed is that recently I have started wondering exactly how strong my submissions are.  If my cover letters are too stiff and formal.  If they actually say anything about me at all.  I have reached the conclusion that I would rather fail honestly, therefore I shall try a different approach with my next submission.  Wish me luck.

A Pliable Form Of Justice

What supposedly separates good from evil in terms of statehood is the belief in the rule of law.  The idea that every human being is a deserving of a trial by his peers.  Then and only then can a person’s guilt be confirmed and a fitting sentence be decided upon.  This obstacle if you will is the difference between a legitimate justice system and one of a corrupt, malevolent nature.

In the aftermath of the death of Colonel Gaddafi, the circumstances are somewhat unclear.  The initial reports suggested that he was executed by NTC soldiers.  Now the story is somewhat confusing as a number of conflicting reports have emerged.  One thing which is apparent, given the mobile phone footage which was shown on every news station last night is that for sometime at least he was dragged around the streets being struck by NTC soldiers.  That alone suggests that the idea he was taken to hospital is at the very least, rather unlikely.

As always in such cases it’s almost impossible that the truth will ever be completely clear.  As was the case with Bin Laden when he was shot dead, apparently unarmed and surrounded, the media will help us quickly forget any questions pertaining to the circumstances and move on.  In the meantime we can enjoy soundbite after soundbite about how someone has got justice, or about how the chance of building a new Libya has only started now the tyrant is dead, from various leading white Western politicians.  Despite the fact that now there is no chance of justice for the victims of Gaddafi’s regime.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the Gaddafi case is the number of Western Governments who are seemingly delighted to be rid of Colonel Gaddafi.  British Prime Minister David Cameron was one of the first world leaders to speak of his pride in Britain’s part in bringing Gaddafi down.  What he didn’t speak of was the 5 million pounds worth of armored personnel carriers and water cannons we sold to Libya in 2007.  Or the tear gas we sold them in the summer of 2010.  Or the sniper rifles we sold them after that.

When the dust settles in Libya, and the nation tries to reconcile itself with its difficult past there are going to be very few figures left alive who will be able to shed some light on the torrid secrets of the Gaddafi regime.  There will be no figurehead.  There will be no one to blame.  The secrets will remain buried and the skeletons hidden in plain sight.

Political Incorrectness

The world has changed immeasurably in the last 100 years.  The most notable being the way in which we communicate with each other.  Gone are the days when human beings actually spoke to one another.  Instead we text, email, tweet, like, poke, +1 and comment.  It’s hard for me to believe that there was no internet or mobile phones when I was born.

The downside of the growth of communicative means is that we have created a number of platforms for people to use without relevant instruction.  Many people choose to use these arenas to voice their views on all manner of topics, this way they can feel like they have done their bit.

30 years ago the disenfranchised youth would have meetings and organise protests or demonstrations.  Nowadays they post links to articles on the Guardian and then sit back sipping their moccacino latte’s feeling as if they have contributed to the cause even though they are not sure what exactly the cause entails.

The Politinetico’s are a shining beacon of exactly what is wrong with our generation.  These are the very same creatures who spend a great deal of time moderating their friends  comments to ensure their digital souls are sanitised all the while not actually being capable of explaining why their point is correct instead only vocalising their shock and horror at the fact that someone else can hold an opinion which is contrary to their own.

A great example of  the nauseous stupidity which the internet frequently unleashes is the Ricky Gervais mong gate scandal.  Recently he posted a picture of Karl Pilkington on Twitter and described him as a mong.  Politinetico’s quickly berated him for using an offensive word claiming that he was mocking Downes syndromes and later for reposting a picture of him making a ‘mong’ face.  I honestly wonder what these people did at primary school.  Whilst the rest of us were out in the playgrounds enjoying life, they clearly locked themselves in the library with their frappes and debated the futility of existence.  When I was kid we would use ‘mong’ as a substitute for idiot, never for an attempted medical diagnosis.  Since the advent of the digital camera people all over the world have been taking stupid pictures of themselves for fun.  Fun is the operative word here as it appears that Politinetico’s have got forgotten exactly what that means.

In the early days of the internet people would sign up to forums in order to engage like-minded people in lively debates about subjects which they are passionate about.  The invention of social media means that people no longer need forums.  They can attack anyone from their righteous pedestal without the concern that their victim may be banal enough to engage them in debate.  Nor do they want a debate as in the vast majority of cases they are unable to clearly explain their reasoning.  What they do want is to draw attention to themselves as moral crusaders, as any failure to take the high ground deflates their ego’s to such an extent that their reflections disappear and their arse cracks heal up.  Mongs.

A Novel Approach

Yesterday by sheer coincidence I discovered www.nanowrimo.org.  NaNoWriMo is an organisation which promotes creative writing and sheer insanity.  One way they do this is by organising National Novel Writing Month in November.  They challenge willing lunatics to try to write a 50,000 word novel in only 30 days.  In 2010 there were 200,000 participants.  Over 30,000 of them wrote a novel in a month.  Sounds like coordinated madness, right?

Two things impressed me about NaNoWriMo.  The first is their all too public honesty.  Trying to write a novel in 30 days is slightly mad.  It is inevitable that you are unlikely to produce a Booker prize-winning novel.  However the one thing which pushes people away from trying their hand at a novel is the idea that writing a novel takes a great deal of time and effort.  Weirdly, it’s not time and effort which is the problem, it’s getting started and finding a rhythm.  I wrote my initial 80,000 word draft in just over 3 months.  The idea of just producing for 30 days and then trying to edit it into a coherent form is a fantastic idea.  The reason being that it forces people to write.  Regardless of form, a large number of people will finish November as a Novelist, and that is something to cherish.

The second is that it is all organised by a tiny but mighty non-profit organisation called the Office of Letters and Light.  These lovely people spend a great deal of time trying to get kids actively interested in creative writing.  They do it by raising money for a program which reaches 2,700 different classrooms.  They also do nice things for libraries.  And well I like libraries.  And perhaps if more kids were interested in using their imaginations, maybe there wouldn’t be so many little shits on earth.

After some thought I have signed up.  The idea of writing a novel in 30 days sounds so absolutely absurd, that the experience will either drive me mad or teach me something new about myself.  Either way I am willing to find out.  Honestly, I can’t wait for November 1st.