Tuesday 18 August 2009

The Further Doubts of a Dick

It’s funny. I wasn’t surprised by the reaction of most people to my post. People everywhere are generally decent, understanding, forgiving, and adaptable to changing notions of truth. There are some, however, who are just not my natural audience. They might never have read ‘Private Eye’ (though judging from recent issues, I really can’t blame them) or know the names of the writers by whom I measure my own pitiful achievements. (Surely the most hurtful irony of all was when Richard was blocked by Simon Blackwell, one of the supremely talented writers of ‘The Thick of It’, and then unfollowed by Armando Iannucci, one of the comic titans of this generation.)

Yet I suppose that I have inherited one audience almost by fate and alienated another for precisely the same reason. One audience will never believe that I’ve acted out of a sense of moral indignation. They see it as an outrage, a defilement of something that’s beyond holy: a disruption of the ancient order of ‘celebrity’. These people were drawn to the name that would never appeal to the other audience I secretly crave.

The other audience is repelled by the other me. They don’t want to exist in the mainstream. I know because I’m one of them. Yet many of them have finally come around to understanding what I’m attempting to do. The only problem is that a few have naturally assumed that people in the mainstream can have somewhat skewed senses of humour and have adjusted their opinions in light of that. They tend to live by the battle cry: ‘I didn’t realise that Madeley was such a crazy old duffer but now I love him!’

I still struggle to answer the question: where does the satirist draw the line when they feel the deep burning anger? I try to draw that line everyday when I make certain things apparent whilst feeling that it’s not my duty to explain my every action. It’s like surfing on the front edge of a wave, encouraged by the swell of the tide but aware that your board may slip away at any moment.

Angered by what I’ve done and perhaps for being misled for so long, a fan of Richard’s wrote to me:

‘If you are bitter because your first novel was cancelled, you ain’t going to get far in this world. You bump and grind along that shit track but I still think you are wrong. Would you want to be famous on someone else’s backbone? You have great pride in your writing because it’s yours, not written by someone else.’

It is a fair point if you haven’t experienced the world of agents, publishers, and broadcasters. I speak to other unpublished writers who say the same thing: that all the doors are closed to us. Agents don’t care because they can sell projects easily off the back of establishing names. A person might be able to write the finest cook book of their generation but it’s not getting picked up by the publisher who has just given Peter Andre £1.5 million for his collection of recipes. Whatever the name and whatever the field: getting a book deal is easy. Only if your field is writing does that become next to impossible.

Since I finished my book of cartoons (I’ve still not heard a thing from agents), I’ve written two radio comedies (4 half hour episodes in total). I know they’ll never get read. Agents won’t handle scripts unless you’ve got a production company interested. Production companies aren’t interested unless you have an agent.

Not that I really want either, just a proven writer to read them and to say where I’m going wrong or right. No mentor will come forward via the BBC’s Writer’s Room to help me. They want northern comedy writes for their Northern Laughs project. You can’t get more northern than me. Not with this accent. I’m born, bred, and live in Lancashire, a few miles from Johnny Vegas’ old haunts. Yet the BBC Writer’s Room still returns my script without a thing written on it except the number that marks it out as one of the tens of thousands they receive and reject each year.

People ask me why I perpetuate the charade. I say it’s a whole lot better than being the only person to laugh at your jokes.

5 comments:

Don said...

I wonder how this situation (the struggling unpublished writer) has changed in recent decades? The Internet (there I go blaming that thing for everything again) certain has made it easier for people to get public attention for their work or lack thereof, and the ranks of celebrities (whom I consider the well-known for no good reason) has swollen considerably as a result. Warhol had it amazingly right in the 60s; 15 minutes is about the average (though regrettably too long in most cases). Are more people submitting things because it's easier to do on the 'net and they have more time today? Or is it really no more difficult to break in to writing than in the 1950 (that is to say, probably very)?

I think to be successful one needs to, or at least should by rights, enjoy the fruits of their own labours. I loathe the idea that some can so reliably crank out utter tripe just for the money (yes, you Phil Collins) but it does happen. If you can get others to enjoy your work, all the better and you may be on to something, but you also may not. The final step to commercial success is probably less the refinement and crafting and more the exposure, and that's what the 'net seems to be built for these days. The trick is clearly how to rise above the surrounding muck.

Just a random thought: have you considered getting a few folks together to (drink and) perform one of your scripts perhaps, and see what the unwashed masses make of it? Certainly there are plenty of examples of pretty good amateur work that evolved into something more in this way. It might be interesting to get it converted to sound when so few still read...

Finally, I think you have a good point (if I took it correctly) about the boundaries of satire. Water under the bridge maybe, but I wonder if a purely fictitious media darling would be better received than dear Dick? I do quite enjoy Dick's writing, but that may be in large part because I am only barely aware of him and have rarely if ever even seen the man in his native habitat (I'm not in the UK you see). I think the biggest story on him over here was when he and Judy touted a Canadian author and made him a superstar in the UK when he was just an ex local paper columnist (this is Linwood Barclay, a rather funny fixture in our local paper for years).

Well this has rambled on long enough, but I want to close by hoping that you keep at what YOU enjoy, and let us watch if we may!

David said...

Don, many thanks for that. I really mean this: fantastic comment. It would be worth a blog post of its own.

I think technology is more of the problem with publishing. I’ve been to writer’s groups where grandmothers explain how they’ve just finished their poem/novel/script about their grandchildren. They are legion. I can’t blame the BBC or publishers for closing their doors. There is so much dross out there. However, it makes it so hard to get noticed.

You are also so right about the problem with Dick. People know him and, to be honest, dislike him. It was part of what I was saying: just his name alienates people who I want to attract, attracts the people I’m indifferent about. In a way, I’ve been too successful enhancing his image. I’m done nothing for my own.

What you say resonates because I’m actually working on a project that’s very new. I’ll be publishing it almost daily to a locked blog and I think it’s my best chance to get exposure. I’m very cautious about revealing it before it’s ready, though I’ve already spent about seven weeks working on it. I’ll send you an invite next month as soon as it’s ready to go.

I’m not a person who has much contact with creative types. I’m in a bit of a cultural wasteland. I have often wondered if I have it in me to perform my own work but I’ve not reached that stage of desperation/stupidity yet.

Rattling On said...

I can see why you're peeved that the 'wrong' sorts are reading the Uncle Dick stuff, but I think you should carry on, just invest less of your real life into the content. Some people will never get what it's about, don't write for them.
Have you considered doing bits for You Tube (or similar), you could at least divert the Twitter traffic there and make use of Dick that way.
Publishing these days is such big business/big money that no-one will take a punt. We just get Griff Rhys Jones or Sophie Dahl pontificating on everything and anything. Because they can. Not because they have specialist skills or knowledge. Just bankability.
You could always do a pay-to-view blog (Paypal) of some of your stuff. Or something along the lines of Radiohead's album release.
Anyway, I know Jack's backside about publishing or the frustrations of thwarted talent, having no experience of the first or vestige of the latter.
Keep plugging away.

Andrew said...

I sympathise hugely, David, it must be an credibly frustrating position to be in at times. I know you're not looking for an ego-massage here, but as someone who does get what you're trying to do I can only say that I'd miss Madeley terribly if you stopped it. There really isn't anything else like it around, and being an original is worth its weight in gold, even though it doesn't bring you the recognition you'd like.

I like what Don suggested about inventing a media character. Maybe you could concentrate more on Chip Dale? I love that stuff.

As for Twitter, I think you said it all when you spoke of how childish all this talk of numbers of "followers" sounds. I know exactly what you're saying when you say you enjoy the challenge of being funny in 140 characters or less, but ultimately its brevity seems to appeal mostly to people with very short attention spans, who probably baulk at the length of some of your posts, let alone the idea of reading a novel. I don't think its ever going to be a rewarding market for what you're trying to do, and it must be massively time-consuming.

David said...

Thanks Andrew. You like Chip Dale? LOL. I never know what people like or dislike. Secretly, I suppose I prefer Chip because he's more mine. Dick is the one that seems to get the attention. Though, oddly, The Spine remains the website with the biggest number of daily hits.

Twitter only takes up time that I can afford to waste: the two days I'm stuck in an office. It's about my only outlet and stops me going crazy. The reason I don't write more material for the blogs is simply that the job wipes out four days (two days 'in', and two days recovering). Odd but my imagination seems shot for two days. I think it's something to do with sleep but I haven't figured it out. That said, it is a great way to get the blog read. My readership can soar when I link to the blog from a tweet.

I'll post some details about this new blog in a week or so. It is a bit like Don suggested: a media type. I hope I can get as much creative feedback as I had for the cartoons. I'm keeping quiet about it until I'm ready. It will probably become my main focus for the next 12 months.