Moving to read, as ever. I think the idea of writing fiction collaboratively is a very good one. As to whether it has been done before, it certainly has
in the realm of TV drama in the US. Collaborative writing creates far more complex and believable characters and situations if my experience of American dramas is anything to go by. British TV rarely makes anything to rival Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul. Collaborative drama does get written for TV soaps in the UK, but because those are catering to a huge population, they are by their nature populist and often implausible.
Yes, being disabled does involve vast input from other people. I am grateful to have my wonderful carer husband. in the last couple of days I was lucky enough to have my best friend from medical school over from Australia where she now lives. With her being medical, everything comes so much more quickly to her in terms of my needs, and in the last few days she took me for my first outing for 15 months. It would have been far too stressful to attempt it without her as with the best will in the world, my husband cannot think like a medic. It was so good for the soul being taken to Tate Britain and a Japanese meal.
I hope the black dog dissipates. My intuition is that, like me, you sink into despair only when you are mulling about your limitations and the drastic change in your life. When you are creative, when you are with people you love, when you are fully engaged, you escape from your body, as I do. You, you know that the people who love you take great joy in being with you, so never hold back when you want them to be with you. As long as they receive enough time to sleep and rest, they will relish your company as you do theirs.
You are thankful your parents never saw this version of yourself - ‘a broken tree’ but their love for you would not have faltered. It may have felt unbearable for a time, while they adapted to this new period in your life, but in time, they, like Carlo, would have settled in to new roles, satellites moving closer as and when need and want commanded.
I know because I am, too, a broken tree. The difference is, my teenage boys and my parents are still involved in my now altered existence. My Mum is here more; as parent, best friend and support animal combined we have more adventures together (last night it was Blondie at The Pièce Hall, Halifax) yet ordinarily she is known to shoehorn me out of the house if I’ve remained here a little bit longer than is good for me, or just arrive with vegan magnums for us to enjoy in the afternoon over politics, music, films or catch-ups.
‘Life is a daring adventure or nothing’ as Helen Keller once reminded us and those in my world would agree. Sometimes it’s daring to be backstage at gigs, sometimes it’s daring to put pen to paper and sometimes, for us, daring is simply facing another day. Our family help us push forward. My family is an eclectic mix of family and friends as I know yours is, and they want nothing more to help us keep that black dog at bay.
One of my special-friend's friends in Sussex (who I've never met) sends me frequent updates on what his calls his 'medda': a rewilded bit of lawn that he leaves wild every Summer. It grows three or so species of wild orchids and attracts butterflies, spiders, moths. He sends me these updates because he knows I love the small wildlife, even of England, where I've never been. I included some of his photos in this piece about orchids: https://rosiewhinray.substack.com/p/orchid-hospital
Your garden is rewilding itself- it will be curious to see what creatures arrive to the new wilderness.
I finally gave in and looked up what a vegan magnum was- at first I thought it was related to embarrassment at having such a large bottle of champagne. Feeling a lot of sympathy for you. The tree coming down is such an immutable- until it isn't- sign of your own fix. Can't garden, tree now down, the favorite one, making it impossible to garden even if you could. There are so many things that hold one back from doing what one used to do easily, or without much thought. I find. My garden also has brambles and grasses and things crowded too close together, neglected fruit trees with issues, not fruit, and so on. What keeps me from getting out there and rectifying everything according to my lights? Life is just disappointing. It's good Isabelle was able to comfort you, and you were able to be comforted, and that photo of you and Carlo I assume, is so beautiful. I don['t have an elder tree to mourn. I have, I have, I have... so much... but what is truly mine?
I loved this. You made me cry. As a carer to my husband I understand the accoutrements one needs to make caring work. At times I feel my house is like Piccadilly Circus. So glad you are improving.
The sudden disarming and sometimes amusing honesty in your writing has always drawn me to it. You say things we think but don't say and the daring you show in saying it is cathartic and somehow exciting. Till now I have associated this with your fiction, going back years, but now it is reality, not fiction, and dictated to your son. It makes me wonder if this mode is what you are like in everyday life - saying stuff others do not? I had assumed it was your authorly, 'private' mode that allowed this license but here it is all blurred as it is spoken aloud to another.
You hint at the end of the dilemmas of autobiographical material creeping into fiction which has certainly caused some controversy in your output. More power to your elbow for me though because if we cannot rely on our authors to be truly honest, reaching parts of our psyches little else dares to, who can we?
I LOVE your writing. You are and have always been so brilliant at describing the human condition. Your last sentence today brought tears to my eyes. I also thought about the cruelly felled sycamore and its sprouts - a bit like you and Carlo.
Thank you again for your beautiful heartfelt riding. The buttercup are very sweet, and I am sorry that the elder tree has broken in your yard. It must be really disappointing to not see the garden the way you used to attend it. It is a new different life now.my sister used to stand every day with braces on leaning against our bathroom sink. Good luck with the movement!
Eloquent intimacy abounds. Your words make me embarrassed over my self-pity from the infirmities of old age. But I read and reread every post and eagerly await the next.
I am so glad you have so much support. Friends are the greatest treasures. My friends pick me up from my depression of many, many years - a more or less organic condition since I parted with a violent man back in the 80s. I stay in the world of the sane because of my friends. They are of many kinds: the humorists, with whom jesting is an escape, the long-known who share life experiences, the like-minded with whom I share common interests, and, above all my immediate family. My husband, my son and two grand kids in whom I delight. Such a pleasure to have been involved in their growing-up and their flowering into young adults. As for the Black Dog - I had the most beautiful black curly-haired pooch just like the one in your photo with whom I exchanged both intimate and frustrated thoughts. We wrote books together. She learnt to chat and was indeed a great comfort to those who met her. She had her own visitors. Her name was Wanda and she passed from this life as The Dogwan who held consultations in our local park and rolled down embankments for the entertainment of the many when she could no longer do much in the way of forward walking. The Black Dog, Hanif, is a wonderful and blessed creature. I have her ashes on my bedhead.
Moving to read, as ever. I think the idea of writing fiction collaboratively is a very good one. As to whether it has been done before, it certainly has
in the realm of TV drama in the US. Collaborative writing creates far more complex and believable characters and situations if my experience of American dramas is anything to go by. British TV rarely makes anything to rival Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul. Collaborative drama does get written for TV soaps in the UK, but because those are catering to a huge population, they are by their nature populist and often implausible.
Yes, being disabled does involve vast input from other people. I am grateful to have my wonderful carer husband. in the last couple of days I was lucky enough to have my best friend from medical school over from Australia where she now lives. With her being medical, everything comes so much more quickly to her in terms of my needs, and in the last few days she took me for my first outing for 15 months. It would have been far too stressful to attempt it without her as with the best will in the world, my husband cannot think like a medic. It was so good for the soul being taken to Tate Britain and a Japanese meal.
I hope the black dog dissipates. My intuition is that, like me, you sink into despair only when you are mulling about your limitations and the drastic change in your life. When you are creative, when you are with people you love, when you are fully engaged, you escape from your body, as I do. You, you know that the people who love you take great joy in being with you, so never hold back when you want them to be with you. As long as they receive enough time to sleep and rest, they will relish your company as you do theirs.
As usual, I have to dictate, hence the ‘you you.’ oh well, it is less embarrassing than other previous dictating mistakes.
You are thankful your parents never saw this version of yourself - ‘a broken tree’ but their love for you would not have faltered. It may have felt unbearable for a time, while they adapted to this new period in your life, but in time, they, like Carlo, would have settled in to new roles, satellites moving closer as and when need and want commanded.
I know because I am, too, a broken tree. The difference is, my teenage boys and my parents are still involved in my now altered existence. My Mum is here more; as parent, best friend and support animal combined we have more adventures together (last night it was Blondie at The Pièce Hall, Halifax) yet ordinarily she is known to shoehorn me out of the house if I’ve remained here a little bit longer than is good for me, or just arrive with vegan magnums for us to enjoy in the afternoon over politics, music, films or catch-ups.
‘Life is a daring adventure or nothing’ as Helen Keller once reminded us and those in my world would agree. Sometimes it’s daring to be backstage at gigs, sometimes it’s daring to put pen to paper and sometimes, for us, daring is simply facing another day. Our family help us push forward. My family is an eclectic mix of family and friends as I know yours is, and they want nothing more to help us keep that black dog at bay.
Much love,
Kate x
One of my special-friend's friends in Sussex (who I've never met) sends me frequent updates on what his calls his 'medda': a rewilded bit of lawn that he leaves wild every Summer. It grows three or so species of wild orchids and attracts butterflies, spiders, moths. He sends me these updates because he knows I love the small wildlife, even of England, where I've never been. I included some of his photos in this piece about orchids: https://rosiewhinray.substack.com/p/orchid-hospital
Your garden is rewilding itself- it will be curious to see what creatures arrive to the new wilderness.
Beautiful photo of you and your son.
I finally gave in and looked up what a vegan magnum was- at first I thought it was related to embarrassment at having such a large bottle of champagne. Feeling a lot of sympathy for you. The tree coming down is such an immutable- until it isn't- sign of your own fix. Can't garden, tree now down, the favorite one, making it impossible to garden even if you could. There are so many things that hold one back from doing what one used to do easily, or without much thought. I find. My garden also has brambles and grasses and things crowded too close together, neglected fruit trees with issues, not fruit, and so on. What keeps me from getting out there and rectifying everything according to my lights? Life is just disappointing. It's good Isabelle was able to comfort you, and you were able to be comforted, and that photo of you and Carlo I assume, is so beautiful. I don['t have an elder tree to mourn. I have, I have, I have... so much... but what is truly mine?
I loved this. You made me cry. As a carer to my husband I understand the accoutrements one needs to make caring work. At times I feel my house is like Piccadilly Circus. So glad you are improving.
The sudden disarming and sometimes amusing honesty in your writing has always drawn me to it. You say things we think but don't say and the daring you show in saying it is cathartic and somehow exciting. Till now I have associated this with your fiction, going back years, but now it is reality, not fiction, and dictated to your son. It makes me wonder if this mode is what you are like in everyday life - saying stuff others do not? I had assumed it was your authorly, 'private' mode that allowed this license but here it is all blurred as it is spoken aloud to another.
You hint at the end of the dilemmas of autobiographical material creeping into fiction which has certainly caused some controversy in your output. More power to your elbow for me though because if we cannot rely on our authors to be truly honest, reaching parts of our psyches little else dares to, who can we?
Powerful writing, Hanif, partly due to your honesty and candid style.
I’ve been busy with travels to Cannes during the festival and recently Nepal for a writers’ conference and travel. I will be in touch more full soon.
beautifully written - you are a flourishing tree xx
I LOVE your writing. You are and have always been so brilliant at describing the human condition. Your last sentence today brought tears to my eyes. I also thought about the cruelly felled sycamore and its sprouts - a bit like you and Carlo.
Another beautiful and moving piece, thank you Hanif. Inspiring, as always. ❤️🙏🏽
Thank you again for your beautiful heartfelt riding. The buttercup are very sweet, and I am sorry that the elder tree has broken in your yard. It must be really disappointing to not see the garden the way you used to attend it. It is a new different life now.my sister used to stand every day with braces on leaning against our bathroom sink. Good luck with the movement!
Eloquent intimacy abounds. Your words make me embarrassed over my self-pity from the infirmities of old age. But I read and reread every post and eagerly await the next.
Very moving piece Hanif. You’re amazing. Been away but back now and will come over love Nige
I am so glad you have so much support. Friends are the greatest treasures. My friends pick me up from my depression of many, many years - a more or less organic condition since I parted with a violent man back in the 80s. I stay in the world of the sane because of my friends. They are of many kinds: the humorists, with whom jesting is an escape, the long-known who share life experiences, the like-minded with whom I share common interests, and, above all my immediate family. My husband, my son and two grand kids in whom I delight. Such a pleasure to have been involved in their growing-up and their flowering into young adults. As for the Black Dog - I had the most beautiful black curly-haired pooch just like the one in your photo with whom I exchanged both intimate and frustrated thoughts. We wrote books together. She learnt to chat and was indeed a great comfort to those who met her. She had her own visitors. Her name was Wanda and she passed from this life as The Dogwan who held consultations in our local park and rolled down embankments for the entertainment of the many when she could no longer do much in the way of forward walking. The Black Dog, Hanif, is a wonderful and blessed creature. I have her ashes on my bedhead.
Enjoy the pics.
A great blog Hanif and the Dode. From mum x