August 2003

I don't know about you, but I like to keep control of life, not least because if I don't, somebody will be in there trying to control it for me - but there has to be a balance between holding it all together, and letting in the wind.
It's rather like a dry-stone wall. There are plenty of those out here in the Cotswolds where I live, and lately I have been learning how to build one. The strange thing about these walls is that their stability comes from the spaces; if the wind can blow through, the wall doesn't blow down. They last longer than anything made with cement mortar.

And I intend to do the same.

Letting life unfold might mean a bit more air. It might mean being open to new experiences - including new people. It might mean a change of attitude. I am sure that most of our catastrophes come from too much rigidity. Sure, there are people who are so careless with their lives that they lose any hold they might have, but for most of the West, the problem is retentiveness. We like to squat over what we have like the dragon Smaug in The Hobbit. Try and take it away and we go crazy, breathing fire and destroying the crops, but the Buddhists are right about over-attachment; it stops the new coming in.

A new book is always a dissolution. It can't be written without loss.
This one has been very hard, because nothing of any value can be done without truthfulness and release. Releasing the self is an uneasy tightrope between solipsism and revelation. Failure is in the fall, and there is no net.

But I am nearly through - and in any case I am taking a short holiday, back at the chateau belonging to my oldest friends. Then it will be time to read through what I have done and start editing it seriously. I have, as usual, chucked out masses - about the twice the same again - but I will be more ruthless yet. It is the only way.

Then up to Edinburgh for the festival - and if any of you are going, I am not doing anything in my writer persona, but I will be on BBC Late Review on the 22nd. Meanwhile - you must see Peter Stein's production of Chekov's The Seagull - with the fabulous Fiona Shaw. This is not to be missed, however you get there, and however you get a ticket.

Other theatrical highlights for those coming to London, must include David Mamet's Edmond at The National Theatre, starring Kenneth Branagh. This is a wonderful night. Sold out - but wangle Returns and check for last minute extra performances.

For me, art, yes the real thing, is the best thing in my life. It opens me, blows the wind through, mellows me where I need to be mellowed, and sharpens me when I might become dull. Forget Reality TV and soap opera and daytime chat shows and cheap movies. Find the best there is and throw yourself at it as often as you can. Avoid mass culture - it isn't culture, it's just a benign version of a Nuremberg Rally.
Art is always worth the time, because this life is precious, it's all we have. We can't waste it gazing at 10th rate telly and turning into a shopping moron.

If life is going to unfold - make sure it is life, and not some Marketing Director's corporate plan for the food you eat, what you watch, what you wear, and where you go.

I know we're in the Age of Aquarius, but there has to be some healthy opposite sign of Leo individuality fighting back.

By the way - I am fighting back from the Atkins Diet - and NO, I am not on it and never have been and never will be. But please guys, can't we just eat less, eat well, and stop these monstrous fads?

Pass me a glass of red wine.

I hope you get some time in August to love your beloved, play with the kids, eat with your friends, go to the beach, watch the sunset, enjoy the warm rain, and listen to music while you drive to somewhere beautiful.

There has to be a moment to relax and a moment to dream. Take the dreams seriously, not as an 'I can have it all' call to arms, but as a chance to explore a little bit of the unlived life.

It will soon be autumn. The harvest is now.