Hmm. Am I pursuing the right career? Or is someone waiting to tell me something?
This recent BBC article suggests a strong and consistent link between creativity and a variety of mental disorders. The correlation is apparently ‘particularly strong for writers’. Time to give up the day job? Nah. Not yet.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-19959565
Proof of the importance of proofreading…
Working at home is largely enjoyable but does have its challenges. I wrote a short poem about one of them last night. A five-minute effort, but it captures the moment.
Read it here:
There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.
— W. Somerset Maugham
Watching Friday’s football international between England and Montenegro made me nostalgic. Not because I follow our national side, or indeed football itself, with any great passion. I ‘m afraid these days I sit firmly in the camp that feels today’s proponents come with high salaries, low morals, and little else to offer the world. But that’s why I enjoyed this game. Not for the football, which was rather boring, but for a return to an emotion I have long since missed in football – national pride.
When Montenegro scored their second goal to force a draw, they went ballistic. The ground erupted, the players hugged their fans, a nation unified. This wasn’t some brow-beating, egotistical celebration of the like enjoyed by many of our Premiership footballers, but a genuine burst of patriotism to bring all together. And I found myself reminiscing. Remembering the days when watching England was like that. The Stuart Pearces and Tony Adams’ and Terry Butchers and Bryan Robsons who went for it, and absolutely gave their all for the Three Lions – not for the twelve-bedroom mansion, diamond-earrings and inflatable tabloid models that seem to drive players today.
And that’s my problem. Today’s England players just don’t seem like they’re up for it. I suspect they’d rather be back with their clubs, pocketing their salaries. It’s all about the bank balance, and playing for England is secondary. The bit-on-the-side. Sometimes I don’t blame them. The excitement of the Premier League, with its riches and multinational talent and close competition is probably far more alluring than turning up for England. Let’s face it, most international games are a waste of time. Hopelessly mismatched qualifiers, tedious to watch. Only the knockout tournaments really ignite interest. But it’s been allowed to get like that – it doesn’t mean it should be like that.
Right. Best get it out of the way. Sorry. I have been startlingly remiss of late, having not contributed to my own blog for some two weeks. The blogger’s ultimate sin. For this I apologise. Truth is, I’ve been busy with other things. Which sounds a little disrespectful, until I reveal that these ‘things’ have involved copywriting. A lot of copywriting. Probably six point five days a week during September. Wonderful for me, if a little boring for my blog readers.
I’ve had the pleasure of working on a range of projects for a variety of people, and while I’m not sure I’d want to be as hectic every month, I’m immensely surprised and grateful that I was in what was my first month of freelancing. Thank you, all.
Interesting – I had exactly this conversation during my travels in the States:
http://zagat.visibli.com/share/6kvxyl
If, like me, you have aspirations as an author, you could do a lot worse than read this before you get started:
Do you know the card game ‘Uno’? It’s pretty straightforward. A sort of elaborate game of Snap in which players have to match colours and numbers, and form runs of both to get rid of their hand. It’s good fun. I played it a few years ago on the train with some colleagues from work, en route from London Euston to Manchester Piccadilly. It killed a few hours. I wanted to kill a few more, so ordered it online from Hamley’s toy shop.
A few days later a box arrived. Reasonably big. Three foot by three, maybe. It was Christmas so I was expecting a few things. But nothing that size. Of course, as you will have guessed, this environmental insult was housing my little game. But I didn’t know that at the time.
I unwrapped the box, to find another inside. Identical in every way, but scaled down by a fifth. Intrigued, I opened the second box. Another inside, scaled down by a further fifth, and surrounded by padding. I considered that odd. But what else could I do? I opened the third box.
At this point I began to think that someone was playing a practical joke. Were there hidden cameras trained on me? A Christmas trick? Inside was a fourth box, surrounded by padding like the third, and identically-shaped… scaled down by a fifth. Opened the fifth, the final box, and my card game lay inside – silently laughing at me.
This whole experience struck me as bizarre. Apart from anything else, it was pointless. Why would anyone have the time or inclination to wrap a card game in five successive boxes for a perfect stranger? Especially in the throes of Christmas, presumably rush hour for the Hamley’s despatch department? The postage would be sky high relative to the item, and – most worryingly of all – the chronic waste of paper and cardboard is irresponsible in the extreme.
This doubtless is not the most interesting tale you have ever read. But as someone with experience in the packaging design industry, and who has discussed ways of minimising packaging footprint in the UK, this represented a fascinating and illogical action.
If you don’t believe me, take a look at the photos – live action shots, taken as the mystery unravelled.
I still haven’t opened the game.
Lucas Jones Writing 
