Working Class Oik
I know many authors get somewhat offhand about seeing their name in the acknowledgements of other writers’ books. However, whatever form it takes, under no circumstances do I get blasé about seeing my name in print. Never.
Possibly this is because according to some of my teachers at school, the only thing I was going to do was spend my life on the dole. I find it hard to forget I am a working class oik who was too poor and too intimidated to take up a scholarship to Oxford. I might have been a clever bastard, but I did not fit in, did not play the game. I have always been too leftfield for my own good. Far too gauche. Yet despite the fact I am not much more than an Essex barrow boy, I have somehow managed to end up selling books on three continents and half a dozen languages. I cannot ever get nonchalant about that fact or the nods of other authors who kindly recognise me in their work.
Part of the reason I ended up being able to get into print was because as a teenager I discovered the spirit of punk. It gave me the idea that anyone could transcend their origins, break through the barriers of class and money that people like to pretend do not exist. Punk taught me that if you had ideas, had energy and were not lazy then there was a chance you could find an audience for what you had to say on your own terms.
Whilst the ethos of punk might not throw up heroes as such, it has provided me with various teachers and role models across the years. John Lydon, T.V. Smith, Jello Biafra, Henry Rollins and even Malcolm McLaren have produced work that has given me hints on everything from self-reliance to spin-doctoring.
One of my unsung punk teachers has been Andrew Collins. When I was 18, this eccentric writer and former lead singer of The Disease - who had knocked around with Tony Parsons, Shane McGowan and other scenesters on from the early days of Sex Pistols - showed me you really could apply punk principals to publishing. Here was a totally leftfield Essex boy who had not gone to university and was selling 10,000 copies of his self-published work The Black Alchemist.
These days Mr. Collins is writing books on astroarchaeology and our Neolithic ancestors for mainstream publishers, being lauded by the likes of Jeremy Narby and still reminding me that an Essex boy can beat the odds and get published. Therefore, when I find my name in the acknowledgements of his latest work – The Cygnus Mystery – being thanked for ‘inspirational insights’, I promise you, I am not blasé.
Possibly this is because according to some of my teachers at school, the only thing I was going to do was spend my life on the dole. I find it hard to forget I am a working class oik who was too poor and too intimidated to take up a scholarship to Oxford. I might have been a clever bastard, but I did not fit in, did not play the game. I have always been too leftfield for my own good. Far too gauche. Yet despite the fact I am not much more than an Essex barrow boy, I have somehow managed to end up selling books on three continents and half a dozen languages. I cannot ever get nonchalant about that fact or the nods of other authors who kindly recognise me in their work.
Part of the reason I ended up being able to get into print was because as a teenager I discovered the spirit of punk. It gave me the idea that anyone could transcend their origins, break through the barriers of class and money that people like to pretend do not exist. Punk taught me that if you had ideas, had energy and were not lazy then there was a chance you could find an audience for what you had to say on your own terms.
Whilst the ethos of punk might not throw up heroes as such, it has provided me with various teachers and role models across the years. John Lydon, T.V. Smith, Jello Biafra, Henry Rollins and even Malcolm McLaren have produced work that has given me hints on everything from self-reliance to spin-doctoring.
One of my unsung punk teachers has been Andrew Collins. When I was 18, this eccentric writer and former lead singer of The Disease - who had knocked around with Tony Parsons, Shane McGowan and other scenesters on from the early days of Sex Pistols - showed me you really could apply punk principals to publishing. Here was a totally leftfield Essex boy who had not gone to university and was selling 10,000 copies of his self-published work The Black Alchemist.
These days Mr. Collins is writing books on astroarchaeology and our Neolithic ancestors for mainstream publishers, being lauded by the likes of Jeremy Narby and still reminding me that an Essex boy can beat the odds and get published. Therefore, when I find my name in the acknowledgements of his latest work – The Cygnus Mystery – being thanked for ‘inspirational insights’, I promise you, I am not blasé.
posted by David at 12:05 AM
11 Comments:
It is still some way off, and I know I still got a lot of hard work ahead of me, but unless I fall foul of eternal laziness and never get published, there will be at least one more nod in your direction before I'm through ... and I'll do my damndest to make sure it's a doozy.
Where I come from, the phrase “self-taught” is code for lack-of-higher-education. It is also a badge of honor (in my opinion) and a source of many an awkward pause in polite conversation. Example: “Which university did you attend,” I answer, “I never finished college” they say “Oh, wow, ok, (pregnant pause) it just seems like, you know…that’s great!” I say, “Thank you.”
I like to think that I’m living proof that you can, in fact, polish a turd. Ha!
Did you know that Rat Scabies has been working on religious/conspiracy themes? Not in the "reborn" sense, but in the "searching for answers to the hard questions" sense. Here's a little article i just loved.
p.s. i have been included in the "thank yous" of several books by one of the very people you mention in this blog! small world, isn't it? i am also written about in one of those books as well. Email me if you want details.
Thanks for posting the link. Rat Scabies and the Holy Grail is worth a hundred Dan Browns and several Richard Leighs.
While I consider your posts on this blog to be the best primer on what it means to be English, you are a great example of the American self-made man. You remind me of a giant we lost this week - Robert Altman. Here's what I thought of him: http://www.beachwoodreporter.com/people_places_things/
That is an outrageously kind thing to say about me. Thank you. You article on Altman is great. It captures that sense of him as a gutsy, mercurial visionary whose strength of character allowed him to carve the necessary space for his talent and vision to be shared with audiences.
Sean York Said...
To date I have only been mentioned in 4 books acknowledgements. However 3 of them are by the same Author and the fact he dedicated his best and favorite book to me means more than he will likely ever know.
I saw your name there.. Congrats. But I hear from reliable sources your conspiracy book is also rather awesome.
Am loving Andy's book, too.
I've made it into a few far less memorable books myself.. Not that I'm not grateful, of course.
I am also (far less) self-educated, and also never finished college, I appreciated that comment Slaghammer.
A reliable source? Is there such a thing in conspiracy circles? I am sure they are being far too kind about the conspiracy book.
Nah, this is a reliable source.. It was Paul, he loved it.
Paul is an impeccable source. If he said that then I am greatly honoured. I rightly name him as an inspiration in Secrets & Lies and I was as proud as punch when he told me there was material n the book that even he had never come across.
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