When advertising becomes vanity

I've already written about the vanity exercise in which SSE generates so much profit from its customers that it can afford to waste money putting its name onto a sporting arena.

Has anyone, ever, in the history of advertising, seen the name of an energy supplier over the door of an arena and thought, "That's the supplier for me! I won't bother comparing prices, I'll just sign up with them now!"?

Did we all get the answer 'no' to that question?

So I think we can agree to drop that exercise into the 'vanity' box.

I'm not saying all advertising is vanity, clearly not. Sometimes a company has started to sell a new thing and they want to tell people about it. You know, by telling them about the product. Not just by putting its name in big letters over a large building.

But what on earth is going on in the new Lloyds Bank advertisement?

It's a potted history of the horse over the past 250 years with the name of a bank inserted at the end. And this celebrates the fact that Lloyds Bank has existed for 250 years and has used a black horse in its corporate material for some or all of that time. (As far as I'm aware, they've never sold horses.)

I shudder to think how much it cost to shoot that film. And will it generate any new business? Or is it vanity?

Here's what I would do

Assuming that the shareholders would rather generate more business (and retain existing business) than produce some self-congratulatory horse film, why not use my film instead? The total cost to the bank would have been the same...

I think they're much more likely to see a return on the advertising cost using my approach. And it's shorter so wouldn't annoy audiences as much.

I am available for freelance advertising consultancy - and that sample video is my portfolio. Concept available to purchase, price negotiable, form an orderly queue, sealed bids at the ready...

digging holes and filling them in

Full employment - it sounds great as a two-word aspiration.

But what if it resembles that moment at primary school where the two captains pick their teams? What do you do with the last few people who nobody wants? At school, they're grudgingly added to the teams alternately. In the real world, the private sector would say they were full.

Which leaves the state. Which could simply employ half of them to dig holes and the other half to fill them in. Is that the left-wing paradise? Or is it the right-wing paradise? Does it matter?

Maybe an economist could run the numbers. We'd have people getting exercise (yay!), learning a skill, earning an income, paying taxes, holding their heads high, etc, etc. Is this better, overall, than paying them unemployment benefit to stay out of the way?

But let's hope there's never an imbalance between diggers and fillers in taking time off sick.

More concrete

I'm not insulting hole diggers. Goodness knows it's a tiring job and there are plenty of holes that need to be dug and I'm happy that people will do it so I don't have to. But digging a hole to only have it filled in again (or filling in a hole provided someone has already dug it) stands in very nicely for a completely useless job.

Because I'm assuming that it doesn't actually make sense economically, even when considered across the whole country. Even if you don't restrict it to hole digging - maybe include going to libraries and moving books slightly to the left:

Or maybe if you include companies that sell electricity and gas to domestic users in Great Britain.

Once upon a time

A long time ago, British people used gas and electricity in their homes. The amount they used was measured on a meter and a bill would be sent occasionally to charge them for what they had used.

It was run by the public sector. (At this point, feel free to tell me that I don't remember how awful it was and how appalling and other words to describe powerless frustration.)

Whereas now we have a range of companies from whom we can buy gas and electricity.

The modern way

Bear in mind that we buy electricity and gas from retail organisations. They don't generate the stuff, excavate it, refine it, store it, pump it or maintain the infrastructure.

They measure what we use. And they take our money for it. They invent mind-bogglingly complicated charging structures in order to give us a choice of how much we end up paying and what colours are used on the bills.

Except we can't compare these tariffs because they're mind-bogglingly complicated. So instead we have a whole raft of other companies which compare tariffs for us. And they get a kick-back from whichever company we pick. And sometimes they don't tell us about all the tariffs because sometimes the kick-backs aren't big enough.

Microeconomically

...and I use that term as an amateur. Each household, through its energy bills, is paying for vast armies of hole diggers and fillers.

• staff to invent tariffs
• staff to handle customers joining their company
• staff to handle customers leaving their company
• staff to advertise their company
• staff to regulate the competition between the companies
• staff to run comparison websites
• staff to cold-call potential customers to ask them if they want to switch companies
• staff to handle complaints from people who keep being asked if they want to switch companies
• staff to handle complaints from people who were switched to another company even though they didn't want to be
• and so on and so on
• and so on.

Speaking of advertising (fourth bullet point above), I recently noticed that Wembley Arena is now 'The SSE Arena, Wembley'. Because, of course, obviously, a sporting/entertainment venue in north-west London should carry the name of a Scottish power company.

How much did SSE pay to get their name above the door? And how many customers have they got? Divide one by the other to find out how much extra these lucky customers are paying so that SSE can run that little vanity project.

(Although let's also remember that SSE's advertising once showed a giant lurking ape-ghost so getting their name on an arena is certainly not a lot stranger.)

Macroeconomically

I'm looking forward to someone telling that I'm not seeing the big picture.

But surely the biggest picture is that, if the retail sector were state-run, a public servant could very effectively estimate the amount of kWh needed by the whole nation and then bulk buy on the energy markets?

Wouldn't we then all get a better price than piecemeal purchase across a bunch of smaller companies? And less wastage too, since I'm guessing all those companies over-estimate because no one wants to be known as the company that let the lights go out.

And no one would be paying the wages of so many ancillary staff, or for branding sports halls or for running pointless advertising.

Oh, and if there were any profits they would stay in Britain.

Where do the profits go now? Some of them go to the state-owned energy companies of other countries who currently run some of our energy retail sector and laugh all the way to the bank. Yes, we are subsidising French and German households because their energy sector runs ours and repatriates the profits.

Have I got this fundamentally wrong?

Because if I haven't, the amount of money siphoned out of Britain for no reason is breathtaking. I really hope it was due to incompetence because the only other explanation is corruption on a massive scale.

More ludicrous nonsense

On BBC Radio 4's You and Yours this week, the story of a man who was transferred to another energy supplier even though he didn't want to be, told the salesman that he didn't want to be and then had a tough time sorting it out because the new company (which he didn't want) kept calling him Mr Armstrong (which wasn't his name).

Not sure how long the BBC will keep this link active, but here's the five minute piece.

I challenge you

If anyone can explain how and why the current system makes sense and/or is cheaper than going back to a single, state-run provider, please get in touch. Maybe put a comment below the line.

A prize for the best response.

Targeting failure

Not getting off the ground

Sitting in an airport, waiting for a delayed flight is annoying. When that delay reaches six hours, you'll probably be finding it harder to pass the time.

But our airline pulled a masterstroke on this occasion. All five subsequent, hourly flights to the same destination departed on time.

Rather than shifting the passengers and relabelling the planes - giving each a one hour delay - they had decided to hand out the full delay to one group. Their maths had shown that one plane-load delayed by six hours was better than six plane-loads delayed by one.

Thank you, American Airlines.

Presumably they have targets, under which 16% delayed (for a long time, but who cares about that detail?) is better than 100% delayed (a little).

Targets in business can be useful, helpful and appropriate. But, in the hands of idiots, can lead to unwanted outcomes. If the targets are daft but the incentives high, managers will act against what should be their better judgement in order to score a higher mark - and secure their bonus.

(Personally, I'll avoid flying with American Airlines again. Sure, they gave me some loyalty-card points by way of an apology. The points expired unused.)

No longer an emergency

Not so long ago, accident and emergency departments at British hospitals were given a target of 'dealing with' (my words) people within four hours of their arrival.

This sounds eminently sensible, until you consider what happens once the target has been missed. When the punter reaches four hours and one minute, the target has been missed. The statistics won't look as healthy.

But now there's no hurry. That person's deadline (as it were) has been missed. It's either hit or missed and it's been missed. On the charts, graphs, executive summaries and board member's appraisals it makes no difference whatsoever if that guy is seen in the next five minutes or not for the next five years.

It may be better to forget about them for a while and clear the room of the other guys who haven't hit the magic four hours yet. With any luck, his problem will clear up of its own accord and he'll just leave. (Or maybe call for an ambulance so he can try his luck somewhere else.)

Fortunately, medical staff are not that stupid, callous and/or evil. Maybe better hope no airline executives move over to the healthcare sector.

Being smart

There is a management trope that targets should be 'SMART' which, as I'm sure you're delighted to hear, is an acronym for specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timely.

It all sounds good until you notice that it's assumed that the target will be sensible and will lead to the whole enterprise improving, advancing, making more money, etc, etc.

This is so obvious that the management gurus haven't even felt the need to mention it. No, not even in passing.

That might need a rethink. Set yourself a target to have it done urgently.

your work read like it was second draft, not polish

It's both very easy and spectacularly pointless to mock, ridicule or otherwise reject well-intentioned feedback.

Take the title of this blog post. I could attempt a weak joke by saying that I wasn't writing in Polish and they'd forgotten the capital letter. Or I could accept it's a linguistic shorthand and move on.

However, the detail this person provided showed that their bugbear was entirely to do with my style of punctuation. And specifically the fact that I punctuate like I'm English while they prefer it American-style. And that's not an error, any more than if I criticised them for spelling 'colour' wrongly.

And I pointed that out and we agreed to disagree and moved on. It was friendly and well-intentioned and I appreciate that this person clearly had enough interest in what I was writing to try to help.

But...

I admit it. I have a chip on my shoulder. The chip is something along the lines of... "people think self-published books will be full of spelling mistakes, grammatical mistakes, punctuation mistakes, hideous sentences, woeful paragraphs, lumpy stories, implausible characters and predictable plots - all lurking behind garish amateurish covers". Not that anyone would judge a book by its cover, of course.

That's not why I look for errors in 'conventionally' published books. But it's good to have some ammunition to show that everyone makes mistakes. And, unless you're an obsessive, the mistakes don't matter. Great books can transcend a printer's mistake but fabulous typography can't rescue a clanger.

Dave Gorman

I like Dave Gorman. (Not personally, you understand - but I like to think that's only because I haven't met him so I have no opinion about whether or not I'd like him in person.)

I like his performance-persona and I like his writing style. I like the subjects that he covers (except America Unchained, but that still gives a very high hit rate).

I'm reading 'Too Much Information' and I've found two errors. One glaring, one slightly less glaring. Page 47 - "greatest gits album". Page 51 - "three that didn't chart at all" (it's actually two).

I wonder how that happened. I can think of three scenarios.

1. Dave typed the manuscript, made a slight slip and no one spotted or corrected it (despite the best efforts of professional publishing industry blah blah blah)
2. Dave typed the manuscript correctly but, during the editing process or the pre-publish formatting process, someone else introduced the howlers which were then not spotted as above
3. Dave bangs out some stream of consciousness stuff which then has to be thrashed into book-shape by a team of minions who introduced the errors (as above)

I don't think it's number 3.

(There is the fourth possibility that they are both intended as jokes. I don't think "greatest gits album" is a joke of Dave's normal high standard. And using the number three instead of two isn't normally going to be funny and certainly isn't in this case.)

Either way, nobody's perfect and it is excruciatingly difficult to get every error out of a book once it has more than a few hundred words in it.

And that's whether you write, edit, format and publish it yourself (like what I do) or use the mighty forces of the Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing - A Random House Group company.

Danny Wallace

Danny Wallace used to write with Dave Gorman. (And I like him too - as above.)

His book "Hamish and the Worldstoppers" has just been published. I haven't read it but, judging from the blurb, it includes the premise that the world can freeze, time can stop and then things can happen which most people won't be aware of, except the special character, who I'm guessing is called Hamish.

Sounds great. No, really. I wish him well - because I like him (see above). But I wrote Timestand five years ago which features a character who can freeze the world by stopping time so he can do things that most people won't be aware of.

Clearly I didn't copy him. And, equally obviously, he didn't copy me. But it's an interesting coincidence. Maybe if Danny shows that there's a market for these sorts of stories, I might get a few sales off the back of it. I'm not proud. I'll ride on coat-tails...


P.S. In keeping with the general theme of this post, there might be a prize awarded to the first person to spot a typo anywhere in this article.

It's all vanity

Three tweets from today:

• Other than a handful of notable exceptions, will self-published authors ever earn as much as those selling advice to self-published authors?
• The sheer number of courses, memberships, editorial and technical services on offer - do any guarantee earning back their fees?
• Cos if they don't, it means they operate no selection and have no faith in their clients. That's called vanity publishing.

But, just to be clear and really ram the point home... I have nothing against book publicists in principle - as long as they take their fee from sales increases.

If they want a fee up front then they are not selective. And they aren't showing confidence in their own abilities. Which, as I've already said, is vanity publishing in my book. If you'll pardon the pun.

but you're paid to do that

Another week, another rejection from a literary agent. Nothing new there.

(You could, at this point, tut angrily to yourself and use phrases like "pearls before swine" and "just like those guys who rejected the Beatles" and so on. Feel free. But I don't think I should.)

However...

"With regards to your picture book ideas, the children’s picture book market is an incredibly competitive arena and a debut needs to have a really unique, charming voice with distinctive characters and a strong message – I’m afraid your stories aren’t quite what we are looking for at the moment to add to our list."

I didn't send any picture book ideas, words or pictures.

I sent novels for children - an extract from a 60,000 word novel (that's Timestand) and another extract from a 40,000 word novel (that's Feargal Munge).

So many manuscripts

The life of a junior employee at a literary agent must be hard. So many manuscripts to plough through, desperately trying to find the needle in the haystack, the diamond in the rough, the wheat in the chaff, the Wolf Hall in the reality television, the original phrase in the stack of clichés.

Personally, I can handle rejection. If someone reads a page or two and decides it isn't for them - fair enough. (Obviously a chapter or two would be better but I know you're busy.)

I'm not going for global domination here. I'm not trying to write for absolutely everyone. But I know that my books are publishable and that there is a healthy-sized market for them. (Or, to use a more pessimistic angle, I feel that a lot of books far worse than mine are published.)

But sending out a rejection without actually reading the manuscript (or noticing that it isn't a picture book) - that's unforgivable.

I know - there are so many manuscripts - but you're being paid to work through them.

If you don't like it, you can reject it in ten minutes. Authors spend years writing books. Yes, years.

Can't you spare ten (paid) minutes as a sign of respect to the (unpaid) years spent creating the work?

Hello? Just in case this is read by the person who should be on the naughty step...

You've said you don't want to represent me - and that's fine. I respect your opinion.

But when I replied, simply, briefly and politely, to point out that my novels are not picture books - a short apology would have been an appropriate reply. Or a long apology. Or any sort of reply, frankly. (And I have checked my spam folder - it's not there either.)

P.S.

Over to you, dear reader. Should I forward this blog post to the company in question? Let me know in the comments below. Or email me.

on casual selfism (and other terms I'll make up as I go along)

It's not just that I think the word 'selfishness' is ugly and clumsy - although it undoubtedly is.

Being selfish implies a conscious choice to further one's interests (however trivial) regardless of the impact on others (however severe).

Whereas casual selfism contains extreme self-centredness (another ugly word) - not only not caring about the impact on others, not only not thinking about the impact on others but not even being aware of not thinking about it.

It's not psychopathy because a psychopath genuinely wouldn't be able to consider the feelings and needs of others, whereas a casual selfism-ist could if it occurred to him.

But it usually doesn't.

Too abstract - give an example

Casual selfism is a state of mind whereby it would be totally honest to throw hands up in horror and say, "I never thought of that," when, for example, a fit and able-bodied man is told why he shouldn't have parked in a disabled bay because it's slightly nearer to the coffee shop. (More on that later.)

More trivially

Last night I watched the first two episodes of the BBC's dramatisation of Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall.

(Yes, it started six weeks ago - but I've been saving them all for a more convenient time, which turned out to be last night.)

If it hadn't been for the need to be up at a sensible time in the morning, I could easily have watched all six hours of it in one sitting. It was my sort of television - intelligent, warm, compellingly acted, gracefully written, aesthetically fascinating. Oh, and I could hear everything the characters said.

(If I really had to think of a criticism, I would wonder why there was quite so much of what sounded to me like Spanish guitar on the soundtrack. But it was probably Tudor-style lute playing and I'm probably just showing my ignorance of the period. And I liked it anyway.)

And then...

I saw that next week's Radio Times had printed a letter from a concerned viewer who was despairing about the very two episodes that I had just watched. Oh, the pain in his writing.

"emperor's new clothes", "agonisingly slow", "particularly tedious", "characterisation thin", "all stare and stance", "a 'thinks' bubble above his head a lot of the time", "disappointing"

I don't agree. But I don't just disagree with what he wrote. I disagree with his feeling that he should write to the Radio Times and tell them that he watched a programme which wasn't for him and then didn't like it.

It's casual selfism.

He's presumably disappointed that a programme has been made which wasn't right for him. And him being a licence-fee payer and all.

(Yes, I'm ascribing thoughts to this person which may or may not be his. That's part of the reason why I'm not putting his name here.)

But what's a viewer to do?

Using today as an example, BBC1 runs from 6am - 12.30am, BBC2 from 6am - 12.50am, BBC3 from 7pm - 4am, BBC4 7pm-4am, CBeebies 6am - 7pm, CBBC 6am-7pm.

(I should also include S4C, BBC Alba, seven national radio stations, many local radio stations, BBC News, BBC Parliament and the website. And there's probably other stuff that I've forgotten.)

Add all that lot up. I reckon it's around 100 hours of television per day. How many hours of television do you want to watch from the BBC every day? One or two hours?

Okay, then you need 2% of their output to be for you. It'll be there. The other 98% won't be for you - it'll be for someone else.

How about you stop criticising the 98% that's not for you and, in return, I won't criticise the 2% that is?

Can't fathom

Returning to our disabled parking bay hog - he has points in common with the man so disappointed with Wolf Hall.

(Yes, it's a stretch, but go with it for a moment.)

This is a man who has just taken his child to school.

He has been doing this journey for several years - so he knows where the coffee shop is, and he knows where the disabled parking bay is, and he knows that the school is only about two hundred yards away.

Yet he chose to drive those two hundred yards and to use the disabled parking bay because it was right outside the coffee shop.

I can't fathom this. Personally, I wouldn't be able to take that space. If the bay could hold two hundred cars and no one else was parked there and there was no chance of getting a parking ticket - I couldn't do it.

And neither could most other people - which is lucky for this guy because it means he can park right outside his coffee shop and go in to buy a cup of coffee and, frankly, his day would be a nightmare of near-biblical proportions if he couldn't get his coffee where he wants, when he wants and without having to walk for a minute.

But I don't think any of that passes through his head. I don't think he even considers that maybe he shouldn't do it. I think (here I go, ascribing thoughts to others willy-nilly again) that he sees his shop, sees the space, thinks, "that's what I need" and goes for it.

Casual selfism - textbook example. And I bet he thinks every television programme should be to his taste too.

No one leaves comments any more

No one leaves comments any more.

There's a link, just down there at the bottom of this entry. See it? There you go.

It might say 'post comment' or it might say 'no comments'.

Or it might say '753 comments' by now.

Click it. Write a comment.

Prove that there are people out there. And that they've got keyboards and fingers.

to paraphrase Joni Mitchell

Not so much "you don't know what you've got till it's gone" as "you don't know what you weren't given until it's too late to go back and ask what happened to that important bit".

As a lyric, it needs a little work.

Theatre

I went to the theatre recently. A big production at a major west-end London theatre. (Sorry, am I showing off?)

We booked the tickets in advance - but not enough in advance - so the choice of seats was limited.

(As an aside, isn't that a ridiculous phrase? It's similar to the commonly used 'limited availability'. What they mean is 'little availability' or 'get your skates on there's not much left'. Because, unless the show is going to run to the end of time, or the venue stretches off into the distance and beyond to the stars and thence to eternity (yes, even bigger than the Dome, or the O2 if you must) - then there will always be a limited number of seats. Thank you. Sorry. As you were.)

The friendly booking dude suggested going to a preview, well into the second week of previews, just a few days before the official opening night, minor blips possible but the show should be all tickety-boo by then. And we went for it.

Not because it was cheaper, mind you. Oh no. Because the date suited us and the seats were in a good location.

The evening arrived. We filed in, all excited as one would be when about to watch a play. We were let into the auditorium a bit later than expected, only five minutes before the show was due to start, almost as though there had been some technical problems (surely not?)

To say there were technical problems would be true. Set malfunctions, prop malfunctions, special effect malfunctions, serious looking people purposefully using power tools all over the stage during the interval.

And then, as we reached the climax, it just all sort of ended very quickly. Tension lost, resolution slammed into place, cast bowing, lead actor looking very annoyed and everyone goes home.

Some time later, I flicked through a copy of the play script and realised that a long and structurally important scene from very near the end hadn't actually happened that night.

Yes, but it's a preview. No, but that's not good enough. I think. Am I right?

Lesson learned - never buy tickets for previews.

Books

Far be it from me to refrain from jumping on bandwagons to do with books. Today is no exception.

Wonderful news that Harper Lee's first novel, 'Go Set A Watchman' will finally be published.

(For those who missed the news story, she wrote that book about sixty years ago and was advised to write a different book, set when the main character was a girl. So, fifty-five years ago, she published 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. And the manuscript for GSAW was thought lost...)

But...

Once and for all, this could have shown the pointlessness of the publishing industry. Except she appears to be using a mainstream publisher.

And so she will collect pennies from each copy sold while the publishing house and assorted retailers will rake in many multiples of what she, the mere author, only the person without whom none of this would exist, will receive.

What does she need?

• A printer - these are not hard to find. For a hefty print-run, I think we can assume a good price could be negotiated.
• An editor - again, she could take her pick, pay a generous flat fee for their time and move on.
• A cover designer - see above
• Retailers - as long as the printer was hooked into the global book distribution system, any retailer could order it, if they wanted to. But they'd want to, right? As long as they knew about it because of the...
• eBook selling - see editor and cover designer. Get someone to format, beautify it and load it up. Pay them a flat fee for their time.
• Marketing - are you kidding? That's already started, free of charge, in the world's media, and will continue to publication day and beyond. Even if the original seed was planted by the publishing house's PR department, I suspect it would have spread even if Harper Lee had just phoned her local paper and told them the good news.

And then she could have kept a far greater proportion of the earnings from her work. But we'll never know how that experiment might have turned out.

In this case, I (and now you, hello!) know what didn't happen here.

If I'm ever in that position, I hereby guarantee that I will try it and report back. So keep buying my books and one day I'll get there.

http://www.petertarnofsky.co.uk

Did I mention I've got another book coming out within the next few weeks?

Running headfirst into a wall

A long, long time ago, I had a job deciphering and explaining a marginally antiquated computer system.

Never mind the obscure programming style or the total lack of helpful comments left by the programmer. The biggest disgrace was the experience of the poor users.

Failing to cope

In some circumstances, the computer system failed to cope. This, of course, is a common occurrence with computer systems. Users type in stuff the system can't handle, data gets corrupted, bugs in the code lead to situations that make no logical sense - there are many reasons why a system will end up unable to finish what it started.

A decent programmer (even a half-decent programmer) will expect that this could happen and will try their utmost to ensure the system handles it gracefully.

This computer system didn't. It put a very techie-style error message on the screen and did nothing else. The poor user was stuck with a screen that made no sense and no obvious way to get out of it. (This was mainframe-based - so no mouse, no windows - just a box where you could type stuff, which was ignored.)

(For those who care, the way out for the user was to press the 'clear-screen' button and type 'CESF' and press enter. Not many users were going to guess that.)

Yes, but why?

I contacted the original programmers to ask what they were thinking.

Ah, they explained slightly patronisingly, if it's got to that state then we have to 'abnormally terminate' the program in order to force a 'rollback'.

(Rolling back is when the system puts all its data back to the way it was before the whole sorry business started. In theory, that should be consistent and stable. Oh, the user's work is lost but that's better than the whole thing going up the Swanee.)

Sadly, an 'abnormal termination' leaves the mess on the screen (as described above) but, hey, that's part of ensuring the data stays safe.

Except there's a command called... wait for it... ROLLBACK. It does the thing I just described. It allows the program to stay in control, put a helpful message on the screen and return the user to a menu they can actually use.

This team of crack programmers apparently hadn't heard of this.

Yes, but why the history lesson?

Bear with me.

That story is about sixteen years old. But looking after the user experience is one of the big keystones of computer system design. Leaving the user out in the cold, twisting in the wind is one of the worst things you can do.

You get the system to handle the error and do something useful. It's really not hard. No, really, it's not hard.

Yes, Apple, it's really not hard.

Don't tell me you're having a go at the most profitable private company in history?

Yes I am.

We have an iPad, from back in the days when it was just 'the iPad'. The first one. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it except the problems caused by Apple's software decisions.

The Safari web browser has a lovely quirk. Give it a website that has an element that it can't handle and it simply crashes. Straight back to the home screen.

For example, http://theguardian.com - try loading it on your original iPad. It won't take long. The webpage appears, the text appears, the pictures load, then it freezes for a second and then you're crashed back to the iPad home screen.

It's probably a fault on The Guardian's side. Some dodgy Javascript or newfangled dynamic whatsit is asking Safari for the impossible.

It's asking Safari to do the equivalent of running headfirst into a wall. Certainly, the website shouldn't be asking. But, equally worthy of blame and derision is the fact that Safari dutifully obeys.

Here's what I'd do

If I were designing a browser, I would arrange it to ignore impossible instructions and carry on with the next thing.

Funnily enough, that's precisely how browsers used to work. You could write all manner of garbage in the webpage and the browser would just display what made sense and bypass the rest.

Instead, we have a computer system that is being instructed to run headfirst into a wall. So it does. Boom bang crash and down it goes.

It's all Apple's fault

I neither know nor care what the underlying fault actually is.

But I know that it's Apple's fault that it's not being handled gracefully. I just wanted to read an article. But they decided that if I couldn't have every last pixel precisely as intended - then I was to get none of them at all.

Any fool knows that's the wrong approach. Wrong, wrong, very very wrong.

Unless, of course, you'd rather encourage someone to buy a new shiney machine. Then knobbling your own hardware begins to sound very sensible indeed.

Surely this can't be the case

If you wanted to encourage people to upgrade their expensive hardware then you could follow this roadmap to becoming the most profitable private company ever in the history of private companies that are profitable:

1. Make expensive stuff
2. Write the software so it handles new developments in data (or webpages) badly.
3. Wait a year or two for those new developments to start to become common.
4. Fix the software so it can handle these new developments.
5. Only make the fixes available to people who have the latest version of your expensive stuff
6. Go back to step 1

And, of course, in the event of an error in that six-point system, run headfirst into a wall. But make sure the wall is made of paper and you've already got your bonus for the year.

Hitting where it hurts (part two)

In the 1930s, a charitable trust built London's New Era estate to provide affordable housing to working class residents.

In 2014, that estate has been sold to Westbrook Partners who have openly declared their intention to refurbish the entire estate and then raise the rent to 'market' rates. This is likely to treble the cost.

Many of the current residents will leave because they will not be able to afford to stay. They are unlikely to find anywhere else at a similar rent in a similar location. And so groups of friends, family members, social circles - an entire community - will be broken apart.

Some may end up homeless. Some of them will be rehoused by the local council. Some will not.

The story is explained very clearly here.

None of this is illegal

You might think something in the above story should be against the law. It isn't. Westbrook are perfectly entitled, in law, to act in this way.

Anything else would be unfair encumbrance on the free market. And we wouldn't want that, would we? Where would it end?

(Anyone saying 'Scandinavian levels of equality, social care, health care, civilised values and bleak television dramas' can award themselves an extra point.)

Enough of being flippant

Protests to Westbrook Partners are pointless. They exist in order to buy up stuff that they think is undervalued and then sell it on for a better price. They're not breaking the law. They're acting in the interests of their clients. Why should they give the current residents a break - and thereby give a smaller return to their own employees, shareholders and investors?

But maybe protests to the investors would work better.

According to the article in The Guardian, two investors in Westbrook Partners are the 'New York State Teachers Retirement System' and the 'State of New Jersey'.

Do you want your pension to be funded from mass evictions of working class families?

Has anyone asked that question of New York State teachers?

Sure, not all of them will care. But some of them will be horrified. Some of them would accept a very slightly smaller pension to avoid causing misery to others.

And some of them will work to ensure that Westbrook Partners leave the residents of the New Era Estate alone - and don't go looking for similar targets elsewhere.

And if they can't achieve that, some of them will try to stop their pension fund from investing in Westbrook at all.

I don't have the resources

I don't have the resources to track down every pension fund and private individual who invests in Westbrook Partners. But, with a bit of media exposure in the USA, some of them might even step forward.

And if the lost business becomes large enough, if the bottom line starts to smart, maybe investment houses will think this sort of speculation is not worth the trouble.

U-Turn

In my last post, I argued against a boycott of Amazon on the grounds that using the principle of the free market to try to encourage morality from a company was likely to lead to a resurgence of Roman-style entertainment. (Perhaps I got a little carried away, but I did state that I thought my analogy was clumsy.)

And yet here I'm recommending using the free market to try to alter a company's behaviour by pressure from its customers.

Some might call this a u-turn. I prefer to think of it as looking for an approach that might make a difference.

Feel free to argue the point - here, on Twitter, on street corners if you prefer but I might not turn up.

Playing into their hands

Since I last wrote about my objection to a boycott of a certain well-known web retailer, the situation has changed. The British government is proposing a change in the law to prevent some 'tax efficiencies' from being used. It remains to be seen whether that will help, or whether a new loophole will be discovered.

This, of course, leaves the other objection about treatment and pay for their staff.

Don't get me wrong

I am no apologist for companies trying to get away with paying staff as little as possible while reducing their tax liability as far as possible. But I fail to see why anyone would expect them to act any differently.

Yes, I'd like people to be paid an decent wage for a day's work.

No, I don't think that ludicrously low wages should be propped up by tax credits from the state - because that's effectively the state subsidising the profits of large multinational companies by making it possible for their employees to work for starvation wages.

If a human being needs to earn a minimum salary in order to buy food, clothes, and shelter then why on earth would the 'minimum wage' be any less than that?

If a company can't operate by paying proper wages then its business model is fundamentally flawed and it should be allowed to go bankrupt rather than relying on state handouts.

But it's not that, is it? They just want to make more profit and they can. So the minimum wage needs to go up. The profits can either come down - or they can charge more for their goods or services.

Anything else is market distortion. And we wouldn't want that, would we?

Market distortion is a good thing

Of course it is. And this is why a boycott is wrong.

If we, the great unwashed, the plebs, the salt of the earth, decide that we can change the behaviour of a large company by boycott then it means we have accepted that the free market has all the answers.

It means that we accept that change can only come about because of where the money goes. If it stops going to one company, that company will work out why people don't like it any more and try to change.

Which means that governments can wash their hands of any responsibility for looking out for the interests of its citizens. Don't like the actions of company A? Don't buy anything from them and the free market will do the rest.

No.

The role of a government is to look out for the interests of its citizens. And if something is being done which is against the interests of the citizens of a country (e.g. paying starvation wages, propping up your business model with state handouts, reducing your tax bill to near zero) - it is for the government to step in and fix laws and regulations so they work in the interest of the majority.

In other words, the government must distort the market. Because the alternative is unthinkable.

The boycott wouldn't work anyway

Sure, you might deprive a company of a million or two. But that's hardly going to be an incentive for them to start paying hundreds of millions more in tax and salary. Sorry.

Silly analogy - or a clumsy attempt to show why laws are better than market forces

Company D decides that they'll make a television programme in which random people are punched in the street - and their reactions captured in slow-motion high-definition.

Should we wait to see if anyone watches it? If so, the revenue from advertising will prove that the market approves - and a small amount of the profit could deal with the lawsuits and medical bills.

Or should the government stop them, perhaps by enacting a law forbidding that sort of violence, coupled with a law enforcement mechanism, perhaps including a police force, a judiciary and some prisons?

Hitting where it hurts

Yesterday, on Twitter, a well-known author was advocating a boycott of a well-known internet retailer.

The story about the boycott is here. The well-known author is Mark Haddon.

Let me make it absolutely clear that I have nothing but respect for Mark Haddon. However, I'm not convinced that a boycott is going to help here.

After his initial tweet:

The Xmas anti-Amazon campagin is gathering momentum. They stand to lose £500,000  http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/nov/20/amazon-anonymous-campaign-veto-christmas …

I responded with this:

Potentially much collateral damage on this one. Marketplace sellers, self-published authors to name but two categories.

He said:

No one is suggesting not buying any presents just buying them elsewhere.

Which, I hope you'll agree, I wasn't suggesting that anyone was suggesting. So I pointed out:

I wasn't suggesting that anyone was suggesting not buying presents. Just pointing out that boycott hurts more than just Amazon

He countered:

as does not boycotting amazon. but there is a good reason for resisting amazon before they eat everyone up.

And I wrote:

which is all very well if you have a publishing deal. self-published independent authors might feel differently

To which he replied:

amazon has a near-monopoly on the self-publishing market. so authors who self-publish feel feel more warmly about them.
that doesn't stop them being terrible employers & tax cheats who try & destroy anyone who stands in their way.

I felt the first of those was a little cheeky so I wrote:

it's difficult not to feel more warmly to an organisation that will help in your career than to those who ignore or condescend
...and mainstream publishers are very good at acting as though theirs are the only works of quality. amazon more open.
sure, their salaries are low and their tax is very 'efficient' - but that applies to a good chunk of the high street too
which is not to condone, merely point out that the competition doesn't exactly smell of roses either

And he finished with:

we should perhaps leave this subject for now. i'll be writing a lot more about it later in the year...

And me (too desperate for the last word):

I already had! I think you're one of the good guys. Just be careful where you wave that boycott stick.
Writing a lot more about it? If you want to write it as a debate, I hereby volunteer to put the argument for the defence.


I don't think he'll take me up on the challenge

...which is a shame because I think his position is deeply flawed.

And, simply because he's written a number of excellent and well-received books, doesn't mean that he should have more of a chance to influence the public perception of the state of retail than the next person (i.e. me).

But it sounds like he'll have the opportunity to write 'a lot more' about his view.

So I hereby repeat my challenge. Bring it on. Tell me how boycotting one company is going to help anyone at all in any way. And let me answer, point for point.


Here's a taster of some of the counter-arguments

You're going to have to accompany the boycott with a list of which retailers are acceptable and which ones aren't. We can't get everything from John Lewis, you know.

And I don't want to start rating companies for how well I think they treat their staff and whether their tax efficiencies are more or less aggressive than any other company's.


Retailers don't owe anyone anything

And it's a rather tired argument to suggest that any company should pay any more tax than it's legally obliged to. I'm not defending the position - but the change must come from government. You can't expect a company whose duty is to its shareholders to pay a penny more in either tax or salary than it needs to in order to comply with the law.

Some might do so. That's up to them.


Here's the cheeky bit

The boycott has to cut both ways, of course. If any author feels so strongly that they want to boycott a retailer - and wants to persuade others to do the same - let that author pull his/her own work from that retailer.

Otherwise, how can we take them seriously? If you expect customers to shop less conveniently and (perhaps) more expensively, then lead from the front.


P.S.

I don't mind whether you buy my books from Amazon, from me - or from any retailer you like the look of. All readers welcome and appreciated.

http://www.petertarnofsky.co.uk

It's like Tony Jordan's "Hustle" is coming true - without the good guys

In 2004, Hustle began on BBC1. Slipping down a treat, close enough to plausible, stuffed with charismatic actors - thoroughly enjoyable, in other words.

In the very first episode, in the first few minutes, Robert Glenister's character rolls himself over the bonnet of a car driven by a man on the phone, not watching where he's going. (You might recognise where this is going, given my last blog post.)

In fiction, that driver might change his ways. In the real world, they go speeding around nattering and tweeting with impunity. Where is Ash Morgan when you need him?

The classic setup

Many of the stories used the wonderful trope that you can't con an innocent man (or something like that - I assume they weren't referring to the Billy Joel song).

So there would be some dodgy geezer operating barely inside the law, greedily going for self-enrichment regardless of the impact on others - and therefore being caught by the gang of fraudsters who dangle an offer that turns out to be too good to be true, before swindling him/her out of a significant sum of money. Or valuable object. Or something.

Sometimes, Robin Hood style, the proceeds would end up with the injured party from the beginning of the story.

Here's one of theirs

Greedy property magnates buy up housing estate in opaque circumstances. They then proceed to evict decent working-class folk who live there, tart up the estate and rent out at vastly increased rates. With no regard, naturally, for the previous residents.

Hang on - that's actually happening. And, what makes it even better, one of these magnates even lives in the sort of house that his fictitious counterparts used to have.

Here's the juicy part of the story.

Which sting would be the most appropriate?

If this were happening in the world of fiction (because clearly I'm not suggesting or condoning real-world crime), how would Mickey's gang take them down?

And, in the real world, without Mickey's gang, what hope is there?

Solving serious problems (and other clickbait)

Some would say that my choice of title is inadvisable if I want readers. We'll see. (Statistics available on request.)

Regular readers of my work will know that I have a pet hate of people who drive inconsiderately, dangerously or with an overactive sense of entitlement. I wrote about it here. And I also touched on the subject in a few places in this rather attractive book.

You can probably imagine my opinion of people who make phone calls while driving.

However, seeing the number of people texting or tweeting or updating their Disgracebook status or (for all I know) watching something on Netflix while driving - that makes me long for the days when they were just talking - you know, distracted but still fundamentally looking where they were going.

This week, the police tweeted a new campaign. Here's the poster:

And what an absolute waste of time, money and typography that is.

I'm going to stick my neck out here and suggest that this poster will do absolutely NOTHING WHATSOEVER to reduce the problem of idiot drivers not looking where they're going.

This poster will appeal to those who like to solve a puzzle.

They (We?) will look at it, consider it, work it out, feel slightly smart, get a tiny pleasure rush in that bit of the brain that likes to feel it's doing good work - and then carry on with their (our?) day.

Most people will see a lot of words, not bother to read past the first line and certainly won't read the tiny print at the bottom. Did you even notice it?

Utter rubbish. Could I do better? Of course I could. So could you.

I can't draw very well so forgive the crude sketch which I have literally drawn on the back of an envelope.

Clearly a more skillful illustrator might have included a steering wheel and made the sight line more obviously going to the phone rather than to the world outside. But I think it's direct, hard-hitting and clear.

And yes, we can wonder why the child has no knees and is wearing a cardigan. Alternatively we could press for campaigns that are more eye-catching.

It has been done before. In fact, a direct approach was used to tackle a similar problem  - that of teenagers getting distracted by their phones and forgetting basic road safety.



One example looked like this:

And, horrible as it is, the poster is eye-catching and its message is very clear. I was trying to show the moment before - they went straight for the moment after.

Pointless without enforcement

But the best campaign ever in the history of campaigns is destined to fail if there is no enforcement. I have never seen (or heard of) anyone stopped (let alone punished) for driving while staring at a screen.

They're not hard to find. I pass at least ten offenders while walking to and from school. They pootle along the road, staring at their screens, prodding them with their fingers and occasionally glancing up to check that the traffic in front is still moving.

Clearly they feel that what they're doing is fine, that they're entitled to do it and that they are safe drivers, oh yes.

Stop them, fine them, revoke their licences. It wouldn't take many before word got around.

Let's not wait until it becomes normal to stare at screens while driving - and unfashionable to complain about people doing it - and some morons say that any attempt to stop it would be a war on motorists. In the same way that going after people driving way over the speed limit is, apparently, a war on motorists.

There's only one war against motorists

And that's the one being waged by other motorists. Trying to get people to drive safely and within the law is not an example of the nanny state.

Go on - argue with me. I dare you.

Is it that time of year already?

No. Of course it isn't.

But tomorrow it will be exactly two months before Christmas and so, clearly, that must mean that smug people will start telling everyone who will listen that they've already done their Christmas shopping.

I'm not saying buy my books because they'd make excellent Christmas gifts. But only because you already know that so there's no point in telling you.

Just as you know that you should order them from me and get them signed and blah blah price match blah blah free shipping (UK only).

But maybe buy something from an independent craftsman or a local author or a market. Something made by the person who is selling it to you. Something that will definitely be different to every other gift the lucky recipient will, er, receive.

Maybe here if you're in south London. Or, for a little more money but a whole load of beautiful craftsmanship and design, how about one of these items?

Or recently (and lovingly) reprinted classics by a once famous Scottish writer?

Any other suggestions? Send them in and I'll add them.

There's little point in pointless point-scoring

...but why not do it anyway?

For all those who wondered what it was like to wait several months and then receive something crushingly disappointing, I present to you...

A review from a proper literary professional!

It's about Timestand - my most successful children's book. Loved by literally many children and definitely plenty of adults too, even if you discount some of them as needy authors hoping for reciprocation. (I don't discount them like that. Too much cynicism is unhealthy).

It's probably not fair to name the publishing house or the editor so I won't. I've also removed one sentence which would identify them. However, I will comment on the review...

**** REVIEW BEGINS ****

I had a chance to look at this and wasn’t quite overwhelmed by what was here. I think the premise is really cute, but I have to admit, the synopsis really confused me, and I was disappointed that Tim’s dad played such a big roll (sic). I would have wanted Tim to really have another kid sidekick. I also didn’t understand quite understand (sic) Henry’s role.

I must say, though, my biggest concern came from the sample pages – I just didn’t feel like there was a strong voice there. Tim’s character wasn’t pulling me along and I didn’t feel like I knew him at all, which struck me as worrisome.

*** REVIEW ENDS ***

And this is what I think of that review

Firstly, I accept that the synopsis may well not be perfect but that is hardly a reason to reject a book - either it's worth reading or it isn't and the potential purchaser would never even see my attempt to reduce my whole book to a page.

Secondly, the main character does have a sidekick - in fact he has two - and they are both mentioned and named and described in the synopsis. Hmm - are you sure you actually read the synopsis which you're criticising?

Thirdly, why didn't you understand Henry's role? He's a fairly classic unhelpful shapeshifter type character whose motivation is left hanging in order to increase dramatic tension. It all comes out by the end and is reasonably spelt out in the synopsis.

Fourthly, the year 7 class which read the book LIKED the fact that the father had a role in the story. He's not a major character but he is there and, unlike Harry Potter, he's not dead. Do fathers have to be dead in YA fiction? Really? (And by the way, it's "role", not "roll".)

Fifthly, there is no come-back to a vague criticism about whether the voice was strong enough, nor is it possible to 'fix' this 'problem'. Does this mean that my whole writing style is no good and that I should find another career? If so, why not tell me that straight?

In conclusion - I know, it's petulant and childish to have a go at someone who bothered to provide more than a form letter and yet... Are these the people judging our work? No wonder all we seem to get are vampires and footballers' memoirs. I never said my book was a work of art or the best work of YA fiction ever written - but I have no difficulty saying it's no worse than a lot of drivel that's out there. With the backing of a publishing house (i.e. advertising), I reckon it would sell enough to at least pay for the advertising.

And it would make an excellent Christmas present too.

Yes, why not make up your own mind about it?

Order from the author - get it signed, free shipping (UK only) and price-matched with Amazon. Or get the e-book if you'd rather (but I won't be able to sign it).

Paul Daniels and me - a brief history

Last night, I saw Paul Daniels & Debbie McGee performing at the Millfield Arts Centre Theatre in Edmonton as part of his 'Back... Despite Popular Demand' tour.

I went with S and N. The show started around N's bedtime and ended, clearly, far too late for her. But try telling her that. Gazing at the stage in wide-eyed wonder and talking about the show all the way home. (So much for sleeping in the car.)

I started watching Paul Daniels on television at about her age. I'm going to call him Paul from now on. Saves on the typing.

At the time, I didn't fully appreciate that most magicians worked in theatres and clubs, travelling around the country, taking their well-honed show to place after place, only needing new material when they started their next lap. Whereas Paul needed a new show every week.

No, I didn't think about that. My thoughts were more along the lines of "Wow!" and "How did he do that?" (more on that later) and "Can I buy some (all?) of his tricks from the toy shop?"

Yes, I was am a fan.

I still have the tricks - still in pristine condition (not because they haven't been used - believe me, they have been used - but because they're well made). But now they belong to N - although maybe I borrow them back occasionally.

First encounter

I think it was 1981. I've got the programme somewhere. Prince Of Wales Theatre in London's West End. I can't tell you about the whole show but I clearly remember the moment when my father was invited up on stage. (Maybe 'compelled' would be a better word.)

Paul asked my dad who he had come with. And then Paul mentioned my name. And, when you're eight or nine, that's utterly fantastic.

(Many years later, I discovered that was no accident. We know someone who slightly knew Paul (I forget how) and he wrote him a letter. I've seen a copy - it's with the programme that I've got somewhere. Part of it read something like "I'd be grateful if you could give him a mention because he spends so much time mentioning you".)

And after mentioning me, he then made my father leap out of a chair as though he'd been stung. And then he stuck him to it.

Second encounter

About ten years after the Prince of Wales theatre experience, Paul's television magic show finished. I can't imagine I was best pleased but I understand it must have been something of a relief for him.

(It would be interesting to know how many illusions and tricks he'd performed on television, compared to the number that most magicians perform over their entire career.)

And, about ten years after that, in 2003, I was in Edinburgh for the festival. And Paul was performing again - a smaller show, taking questions in the first half and performing magic in the second.

When he invited me to join him on stage I was so convinced he was talking to the person in the row in front, it took me a several moments to reply.

And he proceeded to make me leap out of a chair as thought I'd been stung. And then he stuck me to it.

How did he do it? More on that later.

Third encounter

At Penn & Teller's show, at the Hammersmith Apollo earlier this year, Paul was sitting a few seats away from me, in the same row. He actually came over to check with me about the seat numbers because they were small and faint and it was dark in there. I think he said something like "I didn't go to night school so I can't read the numbers."

I stupidly thought he'd come for the show and didn't want the attention so I just told him the numbers (I hope in a friendly way) and left him alone. He was then besieged before the show and in the interval by people wanting pictures, autographs or a chat - which he provided. If he wasn't enjoying that attention, you couldn't tell.

Incidentally, I wrote about that show earlier this year (see this page, scroll down a little).

Fourth encounter

Last night, Matt leapt out of a chair as though he'd been stung and was then stuck to it. And why not? He's performing his greatest hits, together with some new material and plenty of hilarity too.

He sat on the edge of the stage and performed a close-up trick that felt like it was just for three of us. (Yes, we were in the front row.)

And I hope he's enjoying performing the shows as much as he says he is. The audience was certainly enjoying watching him last night.

He missed the chance to get someone from a third generation of my family on stage.

But he asked N her name, got her to pick Matt and signed her programme afterwards. (Because he and Debbie came and sat in the foyer after the show for photographs, autographs and chats. A bit like Penn & Teller, as described here.)

Yes, yes but how does he do his tricks?

In his programme, Paul calls himself an actor who appears to defy the laws of physics and science. He calls the show a theatrical experience.

In Penn Jillette's book, he describes magicians who guard the secrets of their tricks being like people guarding an open and empty safe. He says we all know how the tricks are done.

So telling people that you know how the tricks are done is about as relevant as saying that it wasn't really Macbeth on stage - it was just an actor - and he didn't really kill anyone.

Penn also says that tricks are done in the only way they can be done. (For example, David Copperfield can't fly. So he must be on a wire. But how does he hide it?)

But the artistry isn't even really in the concealment - since, deep down, we normally know what's being concealed (e.g. he's dangling on a wire).

The 'trick' is to make an entertaining show that can make an audience gasp and applaud.

So, to answer the question, how does he do his tricks? Paul Daniels does his tricks using decades of practice and experience and a fast, sharp (but not cruel) wit.

Long may it continue. Thank you, Paul, for a great night out.

Two ill-advised signs

On a shop overrun with school-children I can understand this approach. I might not entirely approve - but then I've never tried to run a sweet shop near a school so what do I know?

But on a shop selling ladies' clothing? Forgive the sweeping generalisations but don't women often go clothes-shopping in groups? (Often, not always, of course.)

How long do you give them?










The creator of this one thought:
1) Under 16's have trouble with small print
2) The elderly like to receive instructions from a pirate.

Oh, there's money in self-publishing all right...

Self-publishing? It's an industry awash with cash - right there for the taking. No, not there... there! No, not quite, left a bit.

And I'm not talking about 50 Shades Of Grey. Or 50 Sheds Of Grey. Or the one that clearly illustrates fifty shades of the colour grey by printing fifty pages using progressively more ink.

No. Don't get the money from the readers because they're discerning and always looking for a bargain (i.e. trying not to pay).

Get the money from the writers. Yes, the writers. The ones with the gleam in their eyes and the fervour in their souls and the fever on their brows.

In the good old days

In the good old days, an author would send the latest manuscript to a publisher who would rapidly thank him for his consideration, order a print run and send him a large cheque.

Obviously that never happened. But the truth was closer to that wondrous fantasy than to today's reality.

In the bad new days

Publishers don't want to hear from writers. (Except vanity publishers. I'll come on to them. Probably best to pretend it's all one word, vanitypublisher, since they're really NOT the same as publishers.)

Publishers want to hear from literary agents.

But some literary agents don't want to hear from writers. They want to hear from creative writing course tutors.

Yes, for only £££ or $$$ or €€€, an academic institution near you will give you the keys to... er... a room (actually you don't get the keys) where a (probably non bestselling) author-tutor will encourage you to write a bit better by... er... thinking more about your writing and discussing it with other authors-in-training.

And doing a lot of reading so you find out what proper writing looks like. (You know, the sort that gets printed by proper publishers, which must be good because it sells. Well, it sells better than books that don't get printed, or that don't get printed by publishers who have access to shops.)

Then, once the years of training have passed, and the fees have been paid, the agents may well read your work.

Money-go-round

Sometimes publishers themselves - or literary agents themselves - run the creative writing courses! Happy days for all concerned.

Except the writer. Will someone think of the writer? Or the reader - because I don't see their views particularly represented here either.

Yes, I know that writers are readers. But most readers aren't writers.

But how else can people learn how to write?

An excellent question.

It's lucky that these courses exist now because, until they all started a decade or two ago, there wasn't anything half-decent to read.

It was all populist claptrap like Jeffrey Archer and Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare and Jonathan Swift and Douglas Adams and David Lodge and John Irving and stuff like that.

You see, if Kazuo Ishiguro and Ian McEwan hadn't attended the University of East Anglia, they would never have amounted to anything?

Or would they? Actually, I think they would.

I suspect that what they learned on the course was how to do the sort of polishing that a good editor at a publishing house would have previously provided as part of the service. But how much more juicy to get the author to pay to learn to do the work himself rather than expect the publisher to include it in the service offered in return for a hefty share of the profits in perpetuity.

And anyone who needs to learn how to do much more than that isn't going to get anywhere anyway. So, all of a sudden, you're selling the service to far more people. I think the word to use here is kerching.

Vanitypublishing

Not a typo. As I explained above - it's all one word now.

The old fashioned way to extract money from authors. Get them to buy a job-lot of copies of their book which probably won't sell but, hey, the money (and profit) is banked up-front by the vanitypublisher. If it sells a few as well then that's more money in the bank, a small dribble of which will be paid on to the creator of the book. You remember him - the person who laboured for years to arrange all the right words in the right order.

Radio 4's 'You and Yours' yesterday carried a piece about an American vanitypublisher who appeared to have perfected this process.

According to the programme, the authors paid for a service that wasn't entirely delivered and the royalties weren't passed on either. Fortunately for the company in question, they decided they didn't have to be bound by British law (against, presumably, something like theft, fraud, deception, incompetence, etc) and so just ignored a judgement against them. Come sue us in America was, I assume, their retort to these undeserving writers. Yeah, cos that's going to happen.

You can hear it for yourself here: http://t.co/XIwF36iWQu

Join me

In keeping with the modern style, I hereby announce my own creative writing course. At a cost of merely (to be determined), I will allow all members of the course to meet up at a time of their own choosing in order to read each other's work and comment on it.

Occasionally I'll swan in and say things like "show don't tell" and "that not which" and "active not passive" and, if you're really lucky, I'll give a short symposium on the correct placing of apostrophes. All coursework will be based on my own writing to be read from the special edition luxury hardback editions available only through me at a cost of merely (to be determined).

You h'eard it here first.

Don't get mad, get bitter.


UPDATE - 10 October 2014

I've just been reading the long and detailed programme of events and courses and seminars offered by one publisher.

Forgive me - I'm not going to name them. It might impact on me later in my professional life. Clearly nothing I'm writing here is actionable so it's not fear of the legal process.

On the other hand, who cares? They're Chicken House.

It's £50 to get started. Then, if your work is of sufficient merit, it's £150 for the next bit, then £375 or £100 or £250 for the third. Then there's a menu of courses for various prices.

I assume that everything they tell you is honest and helpful and constructive. Why wouldn't it be?

But...

Let's back up a little here.

A publishing house should be publishing books. Clue's in the name. This means finding new writers and encouraging writers they already know. There is no point in taking on a writer unless they are confident that there's an audience for their work. I don't think there's anything contentious in this paragraph.

If they think the author's work has legs then they should put their company's money where its mouth is (if you'll excuse the metaphor mixing). If the work will be successful then the publishing house will do very nicely from the sales. Why soak the author upfront? Will these fees be subtracted from the publishing house's margin on the eventual sales? No? Thought not.

And if they don't think the author's work has merit then they're simply running a creative writing course with no promise of anything else. There's nothing wrong with running a creative writing course with no promise of anything else. I'm not suggesting false pretences.

(Although wasn't the original £50 supposed to weed out those authors whose work wasn't good enough?)

But by implying that there's some selection, some control over who is allowed to attend the course, especially when the company is a publisher, the author may have expectations that this is going to go somewhere.

Overall, the author is being shown the cake. But he can't have it or eat it. The publisher is going to eat it for him. In front of him.

Or her.