CAPTAINS LOG: 9th June

I can’t remember a time I didn’t want to be a writer.  A time when I didn’t want to be an author.  I have never wanted to be anything else.  I have never had a career; I have only ever had jobs…and man, have I had a lot of them.  What’s really quite frightening is that I have had many jobs but have been with the company I work for now for 17 years.  It doesn’t feel that long but the numbers don’t lie.

How I fitted in so many prior to this company I have no idea, but I did.  So you may ask the question that if I had always wanted to be a writer why have I not pursued it until now.  It’s a valid question.  The truth is confidence.  Reading has been my passion since I was about sixteen.  My spelling was always atrocious and as such, teachers told me that if I read more then my spelling would improve.  That is a crock of shit (not that I would ever tell my boys that) but it’s true; for me at least.  My spelling didn’t improve until I was in my 30’s and by the time it did we had spell check / predictive texting at our disposal.  I no longer needed to learn how to spell but at least now I can’t hold my own.  Perhaps not in a Spelling Bee but for the normal, average person, I’m okay at it.  

At sixteen I discovered Jackie Collins.  Now before you roll your eyes or turn your nose up, I hold the late Ms Collins in high esteem.  My first Collin’s book was Chances and I bloody loved it.  The novelist (and rather horrifically pink) Barbara Cartland branded Ms Collin’s work ‘nasty, filthy and disgusting’.  I visualise Jackie reading those words as she lounged on her chair next to her swimming pool at her house in the Hollywood Hills kitted out in full Leopard Print regalia (yes, I get my penchant for leopard print from Jackie too!) and I bet she laughed at Cartland as she counted her money.  I hope it went down like that.  I can’t imagine Ms Collins gave a shit at Ms Cartland’s scathing words; for she was the ultimate feisty woman.  And she wrote about strong, feisty, beautiful woman who did what they wanted and took no prisoners.  She was a female writer who wrote for female readers.  Not bad for a woman who was expelled from school at 15. 

Not convinced that she shouldn’t be revered?  How about this: Her books sold over 500 million copies and were translated into 40 languages.  Eight of her books have been made into either films or television series.  All 32 of her books made the New York Times Bestsellers list.  Again, the figures don’t lie. 

When I first started working in London when I was sixteen, free magazines were given out a tube stations.  They were predominately used to advertise jobs and recruitment agencies but had articles too.  One of the magazines reproduced articles, previously published in The Spectator, by Jeffery Bernard.  He wrote the most descriptive, funny, shocking tales of the life of a drunkard.  Mr Bernard wrote from the heart about his life.  He wrote about his life, drawing on his life in the pubs and clubs of SoHo, in it’s  full and unabashed glory.  He was cutting and funny and regularly threw those he knew under the public bus.   Keith Waterhouse wrote a play about him; entitled Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell but I think Mike Molley the former Editor of the Daily Mirror (back in the day) sums Jeffery up in the perfect way when describing Jeffrey and why you should read the play: “Everything is there: Jeff’s catastrophic marriages, his drunkenness, gallows humour, his reckless, self-destructive courage and his extraordinary ability to tap into the kindness of strangers.  Jeff had to rely on the kindness of strangers; he had long before exhausted the supply of kindness from his friends”.  I adored Mr Bernard’s writing and I still do.  It stands the test of time and he was such a caustic bastard.  God, I know I probably wouldn’t have survived the night but I would have loved to have gone out drinking and had dinner with this man.  

You might get the feeling that I am drawn to unconventional people.  You’d be right.

But despite neither of them being conventional I loved their writing equally.  They both wrote with passion and a no-shit attitude.

For me, writing is my happy place.  It literally makes me feel free.  But I have never felt particularly courageous about it.  It took years of talking about it before I started blogging.   It took me years before I finally committed my book idea to laptop.  When I have a good day writing and smash my word target, I feel amazing and accomplished.  Do I want a best-seller?  Of course I do.  But it’s much more than that. I want this as my life.  I want this to be my job.  I want to follow my dream and that means one goal at a time.  

I am very British in lots of ways.  As a nation of people, certainly my age group, we are not very good at putting ourselves out there.  We were taught not to be boastful.  It’s a hard habit to break even when you believe in yourself.

But this week I did.  I have put myself out there.  I have entered my first ever writing competition.  Actually at nearly 49 years old this is the first competition I have ever entered…not very competitive obviously.  And to help me feel good about doing this I am visualising it every step of the way.  From my partial work landing on the desk of the person who reads through the submissions in the first instance right through to the final part.

I have no control over whether I win.  But I am proud that I have tried and I am proud of my submission.

During the 1980’s & 1990’s it was quite common for people to see clairvoyants to tell them what their future looked like and to read their fortune.  But here’s the thing…you write your future.  And you can change it at any time.  You can be anything you wish to be (unless of course you’re 63 and suddenly wish to be a brain surgeon…yeah, don’t bother with that).

This week I remembered who I was and why I was here.  It feels good.  It feels really good.  I implore you to look and find your passion, your purpose and your dream.  Be like Jackie and Jeff;  do what you want and be proud.  In the meantime, I’m writing my own fortune and whilst I wait for that letter to drop through the letterbox I’m going to wrap myself in leopard print, just as Jackie would. 

BIG SNOGS

Kitty xxxx

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