Quite a Week

To say last week was interesting would be a bit of an understatement. I'm used to the ups and downs that life (and my anxiety problems) tend to throw at me but I rarely have as many blips, bumps and jumps in one short period as I did last week.

My Monday began with computer problems and rapidly escalated with some frustrating family stuff. I escaped to my writing haunt and had a burst of inspiration about the direction of my WIP (I wrote about that here). By the time I got home I was all energised then there was some more family stuff that triggered this response:

In the last half an hour I got inspired and optimistic. Then someone dropped a house on my head. Back to square one.

— Dr Lucy Brown (@CharmedLassie) November 23, 2015

On Tuesday I had the delight of a few hours to myself then it all fell apart again. Normality ensued as I dragged myself in the rain to get some shopping whilst having a mini panic attack. However, as I was walking home I received a text from a Yorkshire First colleague of mine about the meeting later that night and I was back in positive mode. That meeting was excellent and I came away as energised politically as I had been in the creative sense the day before:

One thing I do appreciate about the meetings, though, is that I morph into a confident human being who can hold a conversation.

— Dr Lucy Brown (@CharmedLassie) November 24, 2015

For me, that's pretty successful. So, despite a concerted effort by some people in my life to bring me down, I prolonged my positive mood into Wednesday - then the fun really started when I went to co-working at my writing haunt. Hearing "that's not a customer, that's Lucy, she's part of the furniture" set things up nicely along with an epic breakfast. I was in the writing zone anyway but getting an email confirming that I'd won third prize in the latest Fabula Press competition set me singing in public. That story will be published at some point so I'll let you know when it's available but it's one I'm very proud of.

I dragged my father to a couple of stops on the Artwalk that night, which I thoroughly enjoyed (and picked up a couple of souvenirs below), then came home for a celebratory singalong. Treating myself after every bit of success is proving to be very pleasant and reminds me that I'm probably not completely rubbish.

On Thursday I was meant to be having a freelance meeting but that turned into a six-hour meeting interspersed with checking on a poorly six-year niece. Making her smile was more important than any work, though some of that got done as well. The night ending with me tipping a bucket of filthy water over my legs wasn't the best thing that could've happened however. My trainers still stink.

Then Friday... Well, I'd just sat down to lunch when I heard that my grandmother had fallen face-first out of her chair at her residential home and was bleeding quite badly. They called an ambulance and, while the details of what happened that day aren't something I should share on a public forum, suffice to say there'll be a complaint going in to the NHS about the treatment. Fortunately, she's going to be okay, even if she looks like someone ran her over and she's got a broken cheekbone. At 92, she should really know better than to chuck herself over the room like that. It certainly gave us all a scare and, as a consequence, I spent the weekend hibernating and watching tennis. Britain winning the Davis Cup was the appropriate end to a wacky week.

I'm drowning in work this week and my priorities are all over the place. A little stability and time to work without the bumps and jumps would be a good idea. Then again, I did rather enjoy last Wednesday immensely. I'd better write some more short stories, huh?

Thoughts on Queen's

I turned on the television to check the Queen's final score yesterday afternoon, fully expecting it to have gone into a deciding set, only to find Marin Cilic wandering around with the trophy. This puzzled me, since he'd just lost the first set the last time I checked the score and there was definitely something going on - for one thing, he was booed when Sue Barker tried to get a comment from him. It took a few more minutes to decipher what was going on but it eventually transpired that his opponent David Nalbandian had overreacted to being broken by Cilic and had kicked an advertising hoarding beside the court. Unfortunately, that hoarding shielded a line judge: the hoarding struck the judge, causing him to fall off his chair as the wound on his leg started bleeding fairly heavily. Nalbandian was disqualified, handing the title to Cilic. The Telegraph article includes the video of the moment Nalbandian lost his temper.

What astonished me, however, was not the actual kick but the reaction of the crowd to Cilic. I honestly can't believe they booed him for the fact his opponent ended the match in a sudden and rather violent manner. Yes, they felt deprived of their tennis final; yes, some of them didn't realise the severity of the line judge's injury. Still, wanting a match to go on when someone outside of the two players has been hurt feels selfish beyond belief on the part of the crowd. More than that, it seems like they wanted to reward Nalbandian for his antics. In fairness to them, though, they did boo Nalbandian himself when he waffled on live television and tried to blame the ATP's hectic schedule for his reaction.

All this got me thinking. As a collective, humans are very selfish. We boo if something unexpected goes wrong in a tennis match; we boo if a band doesn't perform the song everyone wants to. What about authors? I would imagine the criticism they receive online is akin to crowd booing. If you write a series which people become invested in and then make an unpopular turn I'd imagine the crowd can be fairly harsh: what were the reactions, I wonder, to the killings of Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter series?

Step back another inch, to somewhere in-between writing and spectacle: television drama and soap. These combine writing with performance and therefore any 'blame' can be spread around a large group. However, anecdotal evidence suggests that actors are criticised in the streets for the actions of their characters - this is a nice way for writers to avoid criticism!

Of course, I don't think there's anything wrong with debate. The recent Alzheimer's storyline in Coronation Street provoked a lot of debate, most of which seemed to shy-away from outright 'booing'. However, the actions of the crowd at Queen's yesterday edged away from polite irritation at the rules (and the right of the line judge to work in relative safety) and moved into outright hostility. What happens if you start listening to the crowd's demands to be entertained? I don't know. But I do know I'm not keen on trying it.