Nouveau poor?
Amazing, isn't it, how people's sense of wellbeing turns overnight? You would think there had never been an economic slowdown before. As my old philosophy professor used to say - life is just a series of swings of the pendulum. In/out of fashion, feeling nouveau riche?/hello nouveau poor. Everything comes around. Old money tends to hang on to it, the super-rich get richer, and the rest of us bounce back again eventually, older and wiser. With all the recent hoo-haa about the credit crunch it's struck me that not only are writers well placed to make do, they will probably thrive compared to many others, used as they are to conjuring something out of nothing.Artists are uniquely placed for living well - imaginative, thrifty (those of us still on the way up are well used to 'make do and mend'), and with a magpie's eye for potential, great architecture and a beautiful bargain. As an art consultant who curated collections for palaces and embassies, some of the most beautiful homes I have been to belonged not to the Sheiks and Ambassadors but to the struggling artists - eyries in grim tower blocks (but with heartstopping views over Paris and exquisite interiors filled with bricolage from the flea markets), or rambling rural piles that no-one wanted in the petrol crisis of the 1970s and everyone thought they were mad to buy but they transformed into heaven on earth - and now all the bankers and hedge fund managers are sniffing at their gates.
Even at school I preferred vintage to cheap disposable fashion - my poor mother once sent me off with money to buy school shirts and was presented with a stack of antique dress shirts. They were gorgeous, but she was livid. With vintage the chase is half the fun. My favourite sure-fire hunting ground was Steinberg & Tolkein - it was like walking into your elegant but eccentric great-aunt's dressing room. With houses, I always lose my heart to the characterful auction wreck rather than the 'comes with carpets' new build, and I'm never happier than noodling around architectural salvage yards (current object of lust, a chrome Aga at Drummonds). I started reading an article a couple of weeks ago about how to survive the economic downturn, and realised that since deciding to concentrate on writing rather than the business, I had been practicing their top tips through necessity for ages -(buy/sell vintage, go for quality over quantity, find a second income, eat in etc). Been there, done that and screenprinted my own t-shirt.
An interesting challenge this summer was having my bank card cloned while the pilot was away on one of his long Colombo trips. I was suddenly cashless, and petrol-less (yes, I know, driving on fumes, so couldn't get to a bank ... at my age, I've heard it all, won't do it again - trust me). Suddenly I was stuck for a few days in the middle of nowhere with two small children. Kids do throw in an interesting challenge to the whole 'nouveau poor' experience. It's one thing surviving on little more than fresh air if you are by yourself, but children generally like shiny, newer, bigger, better things. However - stiff upper lip, I eked out the nappies, tried to make it as fun as possible - baking instead of buying, finding 101 things to do with eggs, cheese and the jar of capers which had been at the back of the cupboard since New Year. We traded the playbarn for bracing walks and swimming in the river, but the six year old is no dummy.
Even at school I preferred vintage to cheap disposable fashion - my poor mother once sent me off with money to buy school shirts and was presented with a stack of antique dress shirts. They were gorgeous, but she was livid. With vintage the chase is half the fun. My favourite sure-fire hunting ground was Steinberg & Tolkein - it was like walking into your elegant but eccentric great-aunt's dressing room. With houses, I always lose my heart to the characterful auction wreck rather than the 'comes with carpets' new build, and I'm never happier than noodling around architectural salvage yards (current object of lust, a chrome Aga at Drummonds). I started reading an article a couple of weeks ago about how to survive the economic downturn, and realised that since deciding to concentrate on writing rather than the business, I had been practicing their top tips through necessity for ages -(buy/sell vintage, go for quality over quantity, find a second income, eat in etc). Been there, done that and screenprinted my own t-shirt.
An interesting challenge this summer was having my bank card cloned while the pilot was away on one of his long Colombo trips. I was suddenly cashless, and petrol-less (yes, I know, driving on fumes, so couldn't get to a bank ... at my age, I've heard it all, won't do it again - trust me). Suddenly I was stuck for a few days in the middle of nowhere with two small children. Kids do throw in an interesting challenge to the whole 'nouveau poor' experience. It's one thing surviving on little more than fresh air if you are by yourself, but children generally like shiny, newer, bigger, better things. However - stiff upper lip, I eked out the nappies, tried to make it as fun as possible - baking instead of buying, finding 101 things to do with eggs, cheese and the jar of capers which had been at the back of the cupboard since New Year. We traded the playbarn for bracing walks and swimming in the river, but the six year old is no dummy.
Just yesterday as we were driving home from a playdate she sighed: 'Mama, how do you get a big garden?' She had just spent an idyllic few hours at the lovely rural home of a friend whose Dad is a successful film and TV actor. I trotted out the usual 'When Daddy is a Captain and Mummy's book is published ...' but she didn't look impressed. Size matters to a six year old. Where we see a bright future, my little one sees people who have more Lego now. I've tried explaining that people who live in towns and cities have much smaller gardens - some kids don't even have outside space, but to a child it is about as meaningful as telling them to eat their macaroni because someone, somewhere is starving tonight. Children live in the moment. When I explained that living in a picturesque village where you can walk to the sweetie shop is pretty splendid, she grudgingly let it go.
This whole question got me thinking though. I don't know about you, but I'm really keen to foster a 'glass half full' outlook in our children - to encourage them to always make the best of what they have. I had just been having an interesting conversation with a friend, and she said what a portable career writing was. She's right - we should feel lucky, our work is wherever we are. In artistic professions where you are in a different venue each night for months on end, or on location for weeks, juggling a family is tough. Look at dear old Danny Kaye singing his baby to sleep on the tour bus. I remember watching this one rainy afternoon with my Mum. Times change - don't you love the guitar player strumming away inches from the baby, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth?
Writer parents are fortunate - for this freedom and other reasons. If your significant other has a tough schedule, you can work around them. There is nothing more motivating than wanting to provide for your children. (Perhaps that applies to all parents, but as a writer I was more interested in writing than material things - however, now there are children, you want them to have that garden, the great school - all the things you took for granted as a child yourself). For every down point (I've said before, I didn't know I could yell until having children, and we all know how precious writing time becomes), there is a huge positive. For them, I want the best. For them, I want to write a bestseller a year. For them, I want us to earn the dream.
Having children intensifies your focus, depth of feeling, (I'm not saying childless writers don't feel this, just that in my personal experience having children has intensified everything - good and bad). Maybe you are the same? Being a parent, I feel rich. The simple, selfless act of wanting to give another human being the best start in life you can is terrifying, challenging, exhilarating. I am with JG Ballard rather than Cyril on this one - the Pram in the Hall gives you ambition, stability, motivation. There is no chance of developing (or sustaining), an ego because your children will bring you right back down to size on a daily basis, bless them. Having children makes you humble but determined. I am more aware now than before of how miraculous life is, how fragile and short it can be, and how deep love runs. All of this, of course, is brilliant for your writing.
TODAY'S PROMPT: If you, like many, are feeling the crunch why not have a good look round at the material resources you have. Instead of just thinking about how you can cut back, have a think about how you can make things better by using what you have to hand and changing the way you live and work. I tend to take everything as an 'interesting learning experience' (well, whatever gets you through ...). Having absolutely no cash for a few days made me realise how much we all have at our disposal. Having said that, I was delighted when the pilot returned and I could head to Waitrose and stock up on groceries. Feeling the pinch makes you appreciate what you have. In terms of your writing, if you have been feeling lately that having a family is stopping your work (it has been a long summer, hasn't it?), take ten minutes and write out all the positive things having a family has done for you. It's just different sides of the same coin - only you can decide if you feel rich or poor, and as in most things if you are lucky enough to have the essentials (food, water. shelter, love) anything else is a bonus.
TODAY'S PROMPT: If you, like many, are feeling the crunch why not have a good look round at the material resources you have. Instead of just thinking about how you can cut back, have a think about how you can make things better by using what you have to hand and changing the way you live and work. I tend to take everything as an 'interesting learning experience' (well, whatever gets you through ...). Having absolutely no cash for a few days made me realise how much we all have at our disposal. Having said that, I was delighted when the pilot returned and I could head to Waitrose and stock up on groceries. Feeling the pinch makes you appreciate what you have. In terms of your writing, if you have been feeling lately that having a family is stopping your work (it has been a long summer, hasn't it?), take ten minutes and write out all the positive things having a family has done for you. It's just different sides of the same coin - only you can decide if you feel rich or poor, and as in most things if you are lucky enough to have the essentials (food, water. shelter, love) anything else is a bonus.
