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Mo Fanning - British writer and comic

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COVID-19

Dialogue in the age of Covid

December 31, 2021 by Mo Fanning Leave a Comment

Dialogue in COVID times

Have you ever heard of Freecycle? It’s a website where you post messages about stuff you no longer need but don’t want to just throw away … because they might be useful to someone else. It’s brilliant if – like me – you have the most awful habit of deciding you’ll have a crack at something for which you’re hopelessly under qualified – such as plastering a ceiling or rewiring a bedroom.

I mention the site because today I was getting rid of seven large sheets of plasterboard (slightly damaged) following an ill-thought-out way to disguise an artexed ceiling. I posted them online. Within hours they were snapped up, and the fellow who came to collect them was a chatty chap who was more than happy to spend awhile talking as I picked his brains on various home improvement projects. His advice on the whole was don’t bother, just paint it. It was only after he left that I realised I’d worked a flabby muscle. I’d been talking to someone I don’t already know for more than a minute. It was liberating, I tell you. Being able to talk about something with a stranger who has no skin in whatever mad game I have planned for 2022.

If you have anything cluttering up a room (or garage in this case), I highly recommend giving it away to a stranger. And maybe add you expect a decent conversation in exchange. Just to weed out time wasters.

Writing dialogue

Because I ought to bring all of this back to the subject of writing, it kind of makes sense that having these conversations matters. In days of yore, I sat on buses and trains, ears pricked for the type of chatter that could find its way into my pages. In each office I hotdesked, I tuned into people, hoping they’d share a story I could use. After all, I wrote a book about dialogue, and one big tip relates to listening in to those around you.

Sparkling dialogue

It worries me Covid is impeding conversation and communication. Sure, we can Zoom into anyone’s living room or home office, but the chats we have are often edited. The body language hidden. It’s hard to maintain eye contact when the eyes in question are three inches under your camera. I do wonder if the stories we write in the next few years will sound different because of this. I’m watching ‘Offspring’ on Netflix right now. I recommend it as total binge fodder. The dialogue sparkles and people are forever hugging, touching and being together. In a world where we’re lucky if we see families in the same room, will we lose that ability to write such believable words? And what are believable words, anyway?

I’m still unsure if the stories I write now ought to consider Covid. Should my characters wear masks? I’m opting for setting everything in 2018, but that limits some cultural references. The other option is to set them in the here and now and pretend it’s all normal, but then you lose the Zoom meetings or plastering your hands in alcoholic gel to enter Tesco.

I wonder how you’re all cooping with this?

Happy new year to all my readers.

Filed Under: Diary, Modern life is heck, Writing Tagged With: COVID-19, Dialogue, Diary, Tips, Writing

My top five don’t read list for 2021

December 9, 2021 by Mo Fanning Leave a Comment

No reading

While the world and his wife/partner/best friend with benefits is busy telling you which (non-romantic fiction) books you absolutely must read, I thought I’d look back on 2021 as the year I reduced my reading materials and write instead about things you might also like to consider no longer reading.

Emails

Reading spamWay back when, email was going to be the game changer. No longer would you need pen and paper, an envelope, a postage stamp and the services of the Post Office (other mail delivery services are available) to tell someone what you had for your lunch. Email was going to do it all for you. And faster. Often using fewer words. In 2021, I stopped reading almost every email sent my way. The only exception being my business email inbox, and even then, I stayed selective. 95% of emails addressed to me were deleted unread. We’ve got smart home security Every time it detects movement I get an email. Recently, I had sixty-seven emails about a spider.

In my (non-writing) day job, I’ve made it clear I regard emails as ‘for information only’ and if anyone needs me to do something, they should pick up the phone and call (or connect through one of the now many chat applications I’m forced to maintain). I suggest you do the same. Unsubscribe from any and every mailing list – there’s not one that ever matters (except for my lovely and increasingly rare newsletters), set up an auto-reply that lays down the law about how you won’t be doing a darn thing based on an email, so speak to me if it matters and delete every other message you get. It may help to know I have cultured the reputation of a crotchety so-and-so in the workplace, but it means I get to do actual work and make a difference.

Leaflets and junk mail

Each time I buy a magazine, I find an in-store bin and shake free all the inserts. It’s the same when one arrives through the post. 4 out of 5 dentists agree. What does the fifth one think? Brush your teeth with a lollipop. I have the most awful impulse buying habit and I realise I am the precise target of these special offers and dubious claims. It’s best I don’t see them. The same goes for any junk mail – and indeed any mail that isn’t a bill or statement or the offer to buy film rights to Rebuilding Alexandra Small. Rid yourself of the meaningless words and wasted paper. Recycle them. Save trees. And don’t get me started on petitions. They never work. I might start one: Rewrite Hamlet so his dad doesn’t die. And everyone gets two hours of their life back.

The news

Disaster headlineOne of my other dreadful habits is that I over-consume the news. I can’t sleep at night until I’ve checked at least three or four major news outlet websites. Twice. I have two settings: worried for the world and craving cheese. I realise this sort of reading means I’m setting myself up for a bad night with so much screen time exposure, but something inside me remains convinced that if I don’t keep an eye on the world, it’ll blow itself up. Putting Boris Johnson in charge of the country is a bit like employing Prince Andrew as a babysitter. Every few months, I’ve managed to swear myself off and take what I call a news blackout. I refuse to listen to, read or talk about the news for two whole weeks. These are the good weeks where writing happens, the house gets a spring clean and I sleep like an overfed baby. I also realise I should do this more often or ration my intake. I could give it up tomorrow. It’s no big deal. Honest.

Warning labels on medicines

I am a hypochondriac. There, I admitted it. I am the sort of person who’d take a broad spectrum antibiotic as his desert island disc luxury item. There’s little more beloved of my sort of people than reading those little folded up sheets of paper written by lawyers that come with every pill or potion you buy or collect from a pharmacy. It’s not the ‘may cause death’ thing that bothers me. So can eating pizza. It’s the rare side effects that I home in on and within days convince myself I have at least half. COVID-19 has been huge in my head. Even bigger than in the real world. With each new variant, there’s a list of revised symptoms and I get them all. I’ve worked my way through many a box of self tests. The inside of my nose must be squeaky clean from regular use of cotton buds. This needs to end. Now.

BTL

Daily Mail BTL typicalBelow-the-line comments. Often found on newspaper websites, but also the same sort of content makes up 99.9% of Twitter. It’s like glimpsing the soiled underwear of a nation. These are people who lost their teeth to Mountain Dew. The Daily Mail website is like someone put Mein Kampf on shuffle. It’s the home of the stupid.

Under recipes, you find gems like: “This was NOT GOOD. I didn’t have eggs, so I substituted jalepeños and the batter wouldn’t hold. Also, I was out of white sugar so I substituted anthrax. Hubby died! But so did my stepson, who I hated. 2 stars.”. Before memes there were bumper stickers. Before that was the renaissance or some shit. I posted, ‘Hey everyone what’s your favourite doughnut?‘ It took just under a minute for superwowgirl77 to reply ‘I can only dream of them as unfortunately I am a celiac.‘ People weighed in, some to argue she was missing out, some to call her a killjoy, then the tide turned I became the evil one. I was cancelled.

Filed Under: Anxiety, Diary, Modern life is heck, Reading, Stress Tagged With: COVID-19, Diary, Reading, stress

How was your lockdown?

July 7, 2021 by Mo Fanning Leave a Comment

Lockdown 2021

How was lockdown for you? Boris Johnson has released us into our own care. We’re free. And the government is free to stop having to pay their way out of a crisis and gets to blame us for any further deaths under the guise of personal responsibility. I suppose more than anything, I’d like a PM who doesn’t act like he might fail the ReCAPTCHA on an Internet contact form.

Rebuilding Alexandra SmallI’ll miss lockdown. It was like a series of duvet days. Combined with the fear of death. As an introvert, Corona was my Christmas. No more needing to make up surgery to get out of drinks after work. I was waiting for the perfect time to change my Netflix password so my ex couldn’t use it any more, and it doesn’t really get much better than a national lockdown. All those guys on Tinder who say they’re “5’10, if it matters” must be feeling pretty satisfied with everyone stuck at home so it…didn’t matter.

I always told myself I’d prepare for the inevitable apocalypse, but then got to thinking what if I succeeded and then had to spend eternity eating fox meat in an abandoned Toys R Us with the type of people who prepare for an apocalypse.

Coronavirus finally got men washing their hands after a piss. We’re literally two epidemics away from them learning how to wash their dicks.

There’s something about knowing that none of your friends are doing anything fun that feels good. Quitting drinking really prepared me for quarantine: it’s all about taking it one day at a time and never seeing your friends again.

Lockdown downsides

There were downsides. It’s hard to know if someone you care about is self-isolating or having a three day wankathon/Pornhub box set binge. I could no longer pretend to be out when people called, or end calls fast because I had to be somewhere. My life really wasn’t good enough for it to get drastically worse. I could no longer say for sure I was having a mid life crisis, given I could easily die within days. One time, I coughed in the queue at Sainsbury’s and four people turned round. It felt like I was on The Voice. I’ve started watching porn and making up dialogue. I stopped shaving and downgraded my skincare regime. The facial recognition on my phone insists on a password as proof.

I miss the office. It’s weird not having people around I leave passive aggressive notes when I don’t put mugs in the dishwasher. I’ve written my name on food in the fridge. Again it has an upside. No avoiding twats who want to get a team together to go on The Crystal Maze.

I’m going to come out of this a better person.

Filed Under: Diary, Modern life is heck, Stress Tagged With: COVID-19, Diary, Health

Seven lockdown habits to break before FREEDOM DAY

July 2, 2021 by Mo Fanning Leave a Comment

Diet
“Freedom day” is coming to Britain. Soon I’ll be let lose to share deadly germs and hasten the passing of my husband’s homophobic great aunt who insists on referring to me as his effeminate companion. Join me in throwing off the Tory shackles of lockdown and along with that the blitz spirit that caused everyone to take up ill-advised hobbies.

Here are seven habits to break – one for each day of the next week – so you’re fully ready to be free.

Monday: Joe Wicks

WicksWhat better day to ditch perky Joe Wicks and his enormous fucking living room? When the world re-opens again, let’s agree to take taxis to air-conditioned office buildings. Ignore those obese fuckheads who claim to be government health experts with their warnings of how not walking up stairs will kill you. Take the lift. Spend eight full hours sitting and two full minutes ramming a three-pound Tesco meal deal into your mouth. At 5pm, summon an Uber and demand the driver take you to the nearest all-you-can-eat buffet. 90 minutes later, stricken with meat sweats, stumble to the nearest pub for more sitting. That’s how to do Monday.

Tuesday: Smiling at strangers

For over a year, when not wearing a mask you’ve grinned inanely at neighbours, at people walking their dogs on desolate waste ground, at the postman, at anyone you see in the hope they’ll join your ‘we’re all in this together’ campaign. Even if you secretly suspect the serial killer next door of inviting relatives round to breathe COVID all over your clean washing. It’s freedom day. Who cares if the old man at number six dies alone because there’s nobody to do his shopping? He’s no longer your problem. You’re free. You’re mask-less and you get to spend time with people you actually like.

Wednesday: Green tea

The Diamond System DVDYou bought a box in 1983 after waking up in A&E and vowing to give up drink, drugs and crisps. After ten minutes of Anne Diamond’s ‘How I lost 4 stone‘ DVD, you lost the will to live and ate an entire trifle. In lockdown, with everyone raving about how they’ve rediscovered green tea, you gave it another go and remembered at once why you never bought it again – it tastes like dishwasher slurry. It’s time to re-embrace light brown tea and leave the folksy herbal shite to people who have sex in public toilets. Stop lying to yourself and have a custard cream.

Thursday: Calamitous haircuts

It was only ever meant to be a trim at the back and a tidy at the sides, but your hair looked like a hat worn at a jaunty angle. You’ve sat through Zoom calls wearing a beanie, and looking like something the dog slept on. Now your Turkish barber is once again open and ready to set fire to your ears and crack your finger joints (in a way you’re almost sure will increase the chance of arthritis). Hurry to their shops and sit through an hour of Kiss FM. Over tip, then worry they’ll expect the same next time. Life is shit and then you die.

Friday: Eating what the hell you like, because … why not?

From freedom day onwards, it’s no longer allowed to walk the dog looking like you’ve escaped from a nursing home. The golden days are over. Jump up and down in front of the mirror. See what jiggles. If it’s the floor, you need to make changes. The main issue with healthy eating is it requires effort. You’ll find yourself getting up two hours earlier than any sane human being to turn a head of cauliflower into couscous for an imaginative weekday supper. You need to do this. You have a year of abuse to put right. Stick with the plan until you’re two dry heaves and a dizzy turn away from your target weight.

Saturday: Baking inedible bread

Banana breadNobody bought banana bread before lockdown for a reason. It’s like the world’s most disappointing cake crossed with the world’s worst bread. And don’t get me started on sourdough. You’ve watched a Kilner jar of flour and water bubble and turn rancid green over the course of a month, and now you’re expected to eat something that contains the sludge? Why not go the whole hog and make raw chicken sandwiches?

Sunday: Zoom comedy clubs

The voice in your head said, “It’s my best mate having a go at stand-up. I have to watch. It’ll look bad if I don’t.” Zoom shows always start way too early, and everyone runs out of booze within half an hour. The comics deliver the same tired five minute set they used to do on a sticky carpet in Brighton but without supportive laughter. They’re clearly reading from the screen and spend two of their five minutes on mute. It’s even worse if everyone is encouraged to keep their cameras on. You and six other people try to look like you’re having the best of times, when all you really want to do is watch porn, have a wank, order pizza and sob at old photos taken when you had a life.

Filed Under: Modern life is heck Tagged With: COVID-19

Finding your pandemic flow

April 21, 2021 by Mo Fanning Leave a Comment

Flow
Flow – or being in the Zone

I keep hearing how life is looking up. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Freedom is on the way. So why do I feel more burdened than ever. Why can I complete no project? Why would I rather lie in bed scrolling through the news and social media than settle to something constructive.

Mr Fanning has used lockdown to learn how to plaster walls, move electrical sockets, and plumb in a sink. I’ve organised my spice cupboard.

Even when furlough landed in my lap, giving me twelve unadulterated weeks to write, I spent the days chatting online about how I should be writing. It was only when furlough ended that ‘Rebuilding Alexandra Small’ saw progress.

Pandemic procrastination

At first, I blamed my Olympian level procrastination, but everyone I talk to says much the same. We’re in a collective state of bleurgh. We’re not burnt out or depressed. The notion that sits on my shoulder each day is one of “what’s the point in doing this today? Tomorrow won’t be any different.” And it’s not that I lack hope. I know this will also pass. It’s just much as the government tells us we’re ‘winning the fight’ I lack direction.

The cautious habits of last year – masks at dawn, rinsing innocent groceries, washing my hands to the tune of Deutschland über alles after opening the post – have fallen by the way. I hardly get to leave my house and mix with people these days, unless they’re also walking a dog. I try to strike up conversations with delivery men. I’m even toying with being nice to my hateful new neighbours whose sole contribution to the street seems to be six billion solar bulbs trailed through viciously pruned trees and across the once green lawns now home to grey slate.

I figure I’m sitting somewhere in between being positive about the future – my book comes out in just over a month and I’m halfway through writing another. Comedy clubs will open again and I’ve written so much new material, I could easily fill an hour (don’t worry, I won’t). I’m signing off on chapters of my fabulous new audiobook and translations of ‘Rebuilding Alexandra Small’ ready for a summer of banging on about the book to anyone who will listen.

Moving on

I have no reason to feel down. Soon we should sell our Brighton flat and the inherited house in the Midlands and move to somewhere with no neighbours and a large abandoned garden. I might even get to slide into reduced work hours when free of a crippling mortgage, property management fees, and two stinging council tax bills.

And yet, I know my mental health isn’t great today. I’m not about to risk a drink, don’t worry. I’ve agreed that door is firmly shut. But the lack of motivation worries me. I’m no longer able to find delight when things go well or be bothered when they don’t.

I can’t be alone. This sense of being unable to produce anything of value or move on with things within my reach. Others must have this too.

Flow

I recently learned about ‘flow’. Also known as ‘being in the zone’ – a state of being where we become so absorbed that time flies by, and we forget we’re not at our best. It’s been around since the mid-seventies.

The only way to achieve ‘flow’ is to grant yourself the time and space and find that something to occupy your every available thought.

It doesn’t need to be building an extension or hanging more solar lights around a garden that can be seen from outer space. It can be as simple as an hour listening to an album you haven’t plays in five years or watching a show on YouTube, or catching up on the 2021 Eurovision Song Contest (my parties are legendary).

Taking time from our days (and guarding it) lets flow train your mind to let go of the fog. When someone interrupts (be they husband or dog), bat them away. Turn off email, turn off your phone, lock a door, turn off lights if need be. Drive to Barnard Castle for an eye test. Alone.

How are you coping with the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ days?

What’s your favourite flow?

Rebuilding Alexandra Small by Mo Fanning

Filed Under: Anxiety, Diary, Modern life is heck, Stress Tagged With: COVID-19, Diary, Health, Rebuilding Alexandra Small

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About Mo Fanning

Mo Fanning (@mofanning) tells jokes on a stage and writes commercial fiction. He’s the bestselling author of The Armchair Bride and Rebuilding Alexandra Small. Mo makes fabulous tea – milk in last – and is a Society of Authors member and cancer bore.

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