The Psychology of the "Put Down"

Freshers week is upon us at my local town’s University. Tonight as a Door Supervisor (the new term for bouncer) I start a week long stretch of late nights on the Door at the local nightclub I work in. Lots of young new students away from their parents will be making lifelong friendships and probably drinking too much.

Freshers Week

By the end of tonight my colleagues and I will be moaning that we are babysitting these kids barely out of nappies. They will be throwing up their pre-loaded cider and we will watch as they go off to make their first sexual mistakes as students. What they will not realise is that we will also be keeping them safe in our venue.There will be predators who look at these wide eyed and naïve young adults as fair game or fresh meat. Outside the club we watch them losing their new found sophistication and pairing up. As a father I hope against experience that they will be safe, although it is heartening that many do look after each other as they weave their way home. 

Sadly around the town some locals look at students as a menace to their self esteem and react accordingly. There will be threats of violence and intimidation will occur. The psychology of a certain type of local youth is that the students are parasites on their town and so they will be abusive and nasty. The university is a big employer in the area and generates thousands of jobs that spread to all areas of the local infrastructure but the locals will not see it like that.

Last year a talented male music student was attacked on the high street. His hand was badly damaged and his promising career threatened. Despite CCTV the attacker was not found. The student was not a threat but for his own reasons the local yob wanted to put that student down so that the student would be made to feel inferior to the yob. Note that the attack took place away from the police and bouncers like myself and that the attacker did not try to threaten me but the student. For months afterwards the student was scared to come out and we made a special effort to look after him and invite him into our club.    

Not every put down leads to violence so I wanted to look at the psychology behind the personality of the put down.  I'm a big guy and in a previous sales job the only people who have ever commented that I had put on weight were competitors that I had recently taken sales contracts from and I knew they were trying to put me down for their own self esteem. I smiled sweetly. 

On the door I receive a lot of threats when I, for whatever reason, won't let somebody into the nightclub. No matter what they say they still can't come in. I take the grief, don't bite back and smile sweetly. The outcome is that the night is calmer inside the venue and I've done a good job.

As a new writer I am enjoying the journey of writing and converting my thoughts into a readable story. After publishing my first novel “Splinter” 7 weeks ago I am waiting for my follow-up novella “Dragon” to go through the editing process.

I am hoping that the editor will not be too harsh with me but I know that whatever he comes back with will be constructive and worthwhile. It should be constructive because I am paying for his professional opinion. Whatever he says I will mull over and have a big warm glow at the compliments and a little sulk at his criticism. I found my editor when he was interviewed about editing on a podcast and I liked the cut of his jib. He was the first professional literary person that I had ever spoken to and he had the same accent as me so I thought he would understand my writing voice better than somebody from the Home Counties. 

When I summoned up the courage to contact the editor then all my years as a successful businessman were forgotten. I was just a very nervous new author who knew nothing about writing apart from I had written a story and I wanted others to read it. After several discussions I entrusted my manuscript to his electronic red pen and had no choice but to sit back and wait. I wasn’t sure if the promised timescale for completion would include weekends or just weekdays. I couldn’t ask because this person held my future in his hands and I wanted him to like my work and not rush through, angrily crossing out as he went.

   

In the end the manuscript came back, I took a deep breath, digested the criticism I had paid for, tucked away the compliments and started working towards publication. I submitted 95 thousand words for editing and the final book that I published is 75 thousand words, (which is 400 pages long but with a biggish font and easy to read layout).  That loss of 20,000 words is not the whole story because there was reworking, rewriting and pruning of tangents. I learnt a huge amount and the finished book is better for his input, as will be my future work, because of the lessons I learnt.

I respected that input because I was paying for it and he wasn't try to put me down for his own ulterior motive.

Feedback has been good and I have worried about all aspects of the book but have been pleased with the good reviews and the constructive comments. It is not a “perfect novel” but in the debate to say there is a perfect novel we start to see battle lines drawn and the debate becomes subjective and bloody as each side tries to put the other down.   

This week somebody has tried to put me down. Not about the content of my book, or the story, or my characterisation. They tried to put me down because I didn’t wait to find an agent or publisher. They say that my book should not have been published. I find this view protectionist and at least 5 years out of date. Having recently spoken to a traditionally published author who has hit the best selling lists and then found he has been shafted by his publisher then I am glad I have taken control to publish myself. 

After posting the bones of the story in a friendly author’s group I have since heard of similar comebacks from the world of academia. It seems many creative writing tutors for whatever their own reasons do not like self published books and give grief accordingly. I started a creative writing course 12 years ago and gave up halfway through. This was not because the tutor was rubbish but more that I felt that I would be better to spend the time sitting talking about writing actually sitting down to write.

In my mind writing is like rugby or soccer, I was taught the basics at school and the only way I will learn is while playing the game. I need boots and a ball in the same way a writer needs a pencil and a blank piece of paper to be filled. I no longer need to be told by a teacher what I can or can’t write about or to be put down for handing my homework in late. Some literary professionals seem to disagree and there is an emerging law of "inverse snobbery" that the more commercially successful an independent author is then the higher the level of animosity and the level of trying to put the other side down.

As far as I know there are no keys to the secret treasure of literary success and in this digital age then the Agents and Publishers are no longer the gatekeepers to the promised land. So what is the motivation behind the protectionism?  What is the psychology behind the put downs?  An image comes into my mind of the Wizard of Oz hiding behind his booming voice and the green curtain.

Behind the Wizard's green curtain 

These are exciting times for all authors and by the time the blood has dried on the bar room floor we will look back with derision at the protectionists who sneered at the lesser mortals who tried to write and self publish their book. Good writers will find readers, bad writers will not. 

If a reader doesn't like your creative work then that is one thing. But if somebody puts you down its always worth taking a bit of time to look at the psychology of why. As a fellow writer nicely suggested to me perhaps the creative writing "guru", who blogged against me self publishing was jealous that I held a physical book in my hand. I did joke that I had bought fish and chips for my wife with my first payment from Amazon and was therefore a paid author. Perhaps I should have been more sensitive to their feelings.  

For the next week on the nightclub door I will have people who I won’t let into the club and they will try to put me down. Locals and students together. Locals will threaten me violence and Students will tell me their father is a lawyer. If they offer me physical violence and if necessary I will (literally) put them down to the floor to protect myself, my colleagues and my customers. If they try to put me down verbally because I am old, bald, fat or all three then I will smile sweetly, which will annoy them even more. For their own reasons they are trying to steal my energy and I don’t care.

If a reader doesn’t like my book and gives me a bad review based on their thoughts then I will be sad. But if somebody who has not even read my book tries to put me down because I have self published then I will smile sweetly and carry on writing Book 2 and Book 3. 

James Sheridan

www.jrsheridan.com

'Facts of Life' - What's in a title?

As sales are ticking along nicely for 'Splinter' I am being asked why I have called the Dan Richards adventures the "Facts of Life" series. 

When I started writing the novel I needed a working title. As described in a previous blog I had the name 'Dan Richards' rattling around my head for 20 years and I had started 3 or 4 first chapters without a book name. With each attempt the creative juices dried up due to life's imperatives at the time rather than lack of a title. 

Last year I realised the non fiction book about hard lessons learnt at the hotel wasn't going anywhere and when I put it aside I was working on a pub door in a University Town. The more I dealt with young customers  both locals and students the more I thought how naive and innocent they were and that they still had a lot to learn about the 'Facts of Life'. As the story developed and Dan Richards dealt with local idiots in the plot he came across 'Facts of Life' issues. A main theme in the book is that a local thug who has seen nothing of the world is not a threat to a combat veteran however tough the young scrote thinks he is. However that doesn't mean that the young thug's arrogance and stupidity is not a threat. Again Facts of Life for young and old. 

After writing the first few chapters I thought I was happy with my work and sent away a synopsis under the title of "Facts of Life" to various literary agents who (fast or slow) universally rejected the story. This was a bit of a blow but spurred me on to finish the book and then to allow the story to settle. During the settling and review period the idea of the psychological 'splinter' seemed to dominate the book and I came round to the idea of "Splinter" as a title. 

I also realised that I had learnt my own 'Facts of Life' during the agent submission and rejection process. I still liked the title but thought it was a bigger theme than jut one book. There are too many books published for any single word title to be totally unique. So "Splinter: Book 1 of the Facts of Life Series" ticked lots of boxes for marketing the novel and promising for a series of future exciting adventures for readers to buy into emotionally.    

In terms of 'Facts of Life' lessons being learnt. I worked at a nightclub last week for the night of the A'Level results partying. The queue was long, the club was full and the atmosphere was good. There were lots of young people enjoying themselves excited at their results and the prospects of their bright futures. I wished them well and was pleased that they could still be innocent, naive and stupid in this age of online damnation and I felt old. There is a lot more grey in my newly grown literary beard these days and I must have looked ancient to the youngsters on their exciting night out. 

Drink was taken and with some from the dilated pupils of their eyes I am sure recreational drugs were too. We checked IDs all night and turned those away whose faces didn't match the photos. The attitude of most was fantastic but there were enough spoilt little princesses and arrogant hard man wannabe boys to keep us on our toes. I was confronted with a temper tantrum where the girl literally stamped her feet and screamed at me when I simply said "no" to her. A young lad tried to eyeball me to show how tough he was, so I didn't let him in. "Facts of life pal!" 

In a nightclub queue anywhere in the world, checking IDs is not just about age it is also about attitude. There are always excuses for the 'management to reserve right to refuse entry' even when faced with threats, especially when faced with threats. If the queue outside is run properly then the positive attitude of punters we do let in allows for a good night inside.  

There are plenty of 'Facts of Life' for my characters to learn and Dan Richards has plenty of more adventures ahead of him. 

Any examples of Facts of Life lessons learnt gratefully received. 

JRS  

PS. I now have a list of over 50 titles ready to use. The words behind them will come when I let them.

Location North Wales

I am a man of mixed loyalties when it comes to nationality. I live in Wales and love living here. My Grandmother spent most of my life living here and we came to visit her. I played rugby here and drank my first beer in the pub under age with great friends. My wife is Irish and I was born and grew up in Liverpool. I have travelled all over the world and for a time lived in the Far East. The place I have always missed and come back to is the beautiful Ynys Mon, the Island of Anglesey connected by two bridges to the North Wales Coast.

 

In an effort to survive living in North Wales, where there are very few jobs I bought a hotel business in Wales’ most northern village and expected an “idyllic” life. I had been a dynamic high living sales director and now I was going to be a successful hotelier. We did win awards and grew the business but in the end I was ground down by the hard slog of the constant worry about so many woes. Guests, chefs, local eejits, tripadvisor reviews, uncertainty over the local economy and record breakingly bad summers. By my fourth and final summer at the hotel all the enjoyment of my location had been leeched out of me.

That is until a regular guest, who visited the local nuclear power plant and kept telling me about how great Cornwall, said he had never seen further than the hotel bar and the inside of the plant. The gauntlet had been thrown down and I spent a pleasant evening escaping from my chores and driving this guy around Anglesey and showing him the best bits. He was shocked and impressed at the stunning beauty and the quality and location of the restaurant (The Ship Inn in Red Wharf Bay) I took him to. There were still comparisons with Cornwall but for that evening I played the proud host showing off my home.  It was then that I realised how much I loved this beautiful area.

Early on in the hotel I made the mistake of becoming involved in the bigger picture. An American friend told me on my travels that “if you don’t like the world you live in then change it!” So I became involved in projects that I thought would change the world I lived in. I had great business experience, I had made money and at my first tourism meeting I argued with a guy who tried to tell me how he should run my website. My company had run seven websites but he insisted he knew better than me and was messianic about his own project. At the end of the heated discussion another hotelier told me that he had agreed with me, as did others. I had brought a confrontational perhaps arrogant style to my new supposedly more laid back life. With other like-minded incomers who had invested in Tourism businesses we were going to shake up the cosy world of manana, rural indolence and self satisfied smugness that we had walked into.

I became a Director and then Vice Chairman of the Anglesey Tourism Association. I sat as an adviser on a body for social economic development and was Chairman of the local town community enterprise. Yet in all the bustle to develop my business I had lost sight of the very reason that I wanted to live here. It is a beautiful life-enhancing place and I wasn’t enjoying it.

A young customer in my pub, just 18, said when he first met me asked “why have you come here its shit?” and full of gusto I replied that “When you’ve travelled around the  World as much as I have then you appreciate a place like this.” He didn’t believe me then and as I watched him grow up with few prospects and some stupid friends who dragged him back to their level he perhaps never will realise that. He was going to join the army as his way out, get training, self discipline, self respect and a paid job. Then he punched a wall in a drunken rage one night and had a metal plate implanted into his wrist, which was the end of his army hopes. The fantasy author Terry Pratchett used an analogy in his novel “Unseen Academicals” about the crab bucket and how a bucket full of crabs doesn’t need a lid because if one tries to climb the side then another one will pull it back down. Living in a small town where one of the only local products is Crab and Lobster there is a certain truth about the crab bucket.

 

I was told that shellfish grow bigger close to the warm water outlet from the Nuclear Power plants but I never saw any that glowed in the dark or had three Claws, but they wouldn’t be caught I suppose, but that is another analogy to dwell on.

There is huge hope for North Wales. In my role with the Tourism Association I was asked to support a business seminar at Holyhead Comprehensive for fourteen and fifteen year olds. One Friday morning I went into the gym hall and the organiser thanked me for coming and introduced me as a local businessman to the eighty or so young adults in the hall. You have never seen such a bunch of uninterested students in your life. The aim of the day was to give the ten groups of eight pupils a couple of hours to come up with a Tourism business idea. The lady teacher organising it was explaining the project and kept saying “be quiet children!” which they were largely ignoring, as I would probably have done myself.

The Thursday night I had been working behind the bar at a Karaoke night, stopped a fight in the car park and had not had much sleep, plus I have never been very good with teachers so I was becoming frustrated. When it came to my turn then I decided to try something different and pulled out a £20 note out of my pocket. “Business should be fun and it should be rewarding” I said. “The group that gives the best presentation will get this money” This focussed the hall’s attention and I was quite pleased with myself. In the next hour I went round the different tables as they discussed their project. One table of boys were not really interested and I asked them what they liked to do that would interest them “Eat Kebabs” came back one reply. “Well open up a kebab shop then”. “Can I do Chilli sauce kebabs”. “You can if you like, its your business, sell what you want.” This started a discussion of gut exploding concoctions for the kebab aficionados. Another boy said “why should I bother, I will never get a job” and another said “why should I bother all my stuff will be nicked” which I found indescribably sad from such young lads who had given up on life already. It humbled me to be in such a privileged position to own my own business and be healthy and happily married.

The groups had access to computers and the internet and at the end of the two hours we were given presentations. Creating any entrepreneurial business idea is not easy and the groups coped well enough. A kebab van with lots of Chilli sauce on the menu by a beach was one idea. The reopening of the town’s fruit and veg market as a youth centre was another fabulous concept. The winners of my £20 were a group of girls who did a full powerpoint presentation with financial project and a marketing plan for an eco-friendly holiday village to attract tourists and well paid jobs for the locals. It was a stunning idea and I should have shouted praises about their intelligence, enthusiasm and creativity from the highest rooftop to all that would listen in the council and local media. To my shame and regret I went back to my hotel and was bogged down in the day to day running of the place and by the time I thought more about it the relevance had passed. It would have taken me just half an hour to write a public relations piece to send to the papers but I probably poured a pint for a thirsty fisherman, or plumber, or nuclear power station worker. Out of all the money I lost in my lifestyle choice adventure not congratulating those kids in the papers was perhaps my biggest mistake.

So I escaped the hotel and lost money. Pretty much every idea I had on Anglesey lost money and between ourselves, my wife and I call a bad financial idea an “Anglesey Investment”. In the end it was perhaps a good job that I didn’t go ahead with my grand plans of opening a second or third venue. Or for that matter the seaweed baths that I had seen in County Sligo and thought would be great for a tourism attraction on Anglesey. I spoke to the Bangor University people who knew about seaweed and I learned a lot about thalassotherapy. In a meeting a Welsh Government affiliated business adviser thought it was a good idea but would perhaps be better located nearer to the bridge. I looked at him twice and wanted to scream but said calmly that “that maybe so, but I have a hotel that I want to attract visitors to”. Admittedly to be fair (Chwara Teg) that hotel was as far from the bridge as it is possible to be on the island so perhaps he had a point.

Now I have time to enjoy the beaches and cliff walks and my Anglesey born dog moans if he doesn’t have a run a couple of times a day. I was told that although I was experienced and talented I was probably unemployable, which was true. Soon after leaving the hotel a job came up for a business and tourism development officer for Anglesey council. For a whole thirty minutes I considered applying just for the hell of it. But although I am trying to learn, I didn’t speak fluent Welsh and I would probably get into trouble with my bosses and so I let the job go unapplied for.  Or did I chicken out and not put my money where my mouth is. Perhaps the struggling council would have been open to my brand of marketing and promotion. Could I have done as good a job as a paid official? Would I have tried to understand the constraints of official responsibility rather than being a mouthy maverick answerable to nobody but myself? Now there is an uncomfortable introspection.

Instead of a sensible mature, properly well paid job I went back on the doors as a bouncer and the part time job has allowed me to write and given me great material as a writer. When I check ages for people coming into the nightclub I know, which villages and towns have feuds and don’t get along. It often comes down to cousins and who treated whose cousin badly. Welsh families have a lot of cousins. Many years ago in a much earlier incarnation as a bouncer I stopped a fight in a Welsh nightclub. It was a young farmer’s night and it turned out the brawl had been over which village’s bull had won that year’s top prize at the Anglesey Show. There was bound to be a cousin involved somewhere.

In my job standing on doors I speak enough Welsh and understand a bit more to pass inspection. If England are playing Wales at the rugby then I play on my wife’s Irish accent and denounce my English heritage. It is normally good natured banter but many years ago I saw the St George’s cross burnt and it is a sad fact that the arrogance of the ignorant is everywhere. At the hotel two drunken and aggressive Scousers from my own city wanted to come into the bar and I refused them entrance. They called me for everything but I barred their way. Some of the local lads took great offence and became protective of me. The scousers called us all “sheep shaggers” and “Welsh bastards”. They threatened and provoked violence. It was returned by one of the best flying punches I have ever seen and they were taken away by the police in tears. I knew that they wouldn’t understand the irony that these proud Welsh lads would not go into the middle of Cantrill Farm, Kirby or Toxteth and shout “Come on you Scouse bastards!” As I said there is ignorance everywhere, sometimes the wider view needs to be appreciated. Outside a pub where I was working the door a stupid little Welsh lad called me a “Sais C***”, which I didn’t react to. When he then spat at me for the third time I put him on his backside and notified the police of his disgusting habit being a physical assault rather than his ignorant racism. It would have been the same if I were a Liverpudlian Bouncer in Manchester or a Protestant one in a Catholic area of Glasgow. Ignorance is everywhere. 

The Welsh are a proud literary nation and I am writer living in Wales rather than a Welsh writer. One of these days I will go on a proper course to learn the language and be able to hold a full conversation. For the moment I get by on “Dwyn Dysgu Cymraeg” (that I am learning Welsh), which is universally replied to with an appreciative “Di’Iawn” (that’s great!). Lets face the facts, its not all that great. I have been coming here all my life and a handful of words in the native language of good friends who speak Welsh fluently is rather ignorant.

An Irish friend of my wife came to visit recently and remarked how lovely it was to hear Welsh used in normal daily conversation. Both girls were taught As Gaelige at school in Dublin and are rusty in their own native language. My wife only uses words like Gombeen or Omadon to me when I am doing something uncommonly thick (like buying a hotel in Wales). Yet the Irish are more self assured in their independence and nationhood. Wales has just as proud a history going back to the days of Llewellyn the Great and Queen Siwan and hold the true heritage of Ancient Britain. Ynys Mon was the base for resistance against the invading Roman Legions. How cool is that? With politicians, writers, actors and singers this country has long fought above its weight in terms of international influence.

These are hugely interesting times ahead for Wales, Scotland, Ireland and England, the United Kingdom and Europe as a whole. It is a great time to be a writer with so many themes to explore. An independent Wales anybody? My only comment is to be careful what you wish for? Politicians of all Nationalities want power and I am wary of their reasons. I fear the smugness of the politicians as much as the process itself.

 

The hero of my Facts of Life books Dan Richards was conceived in Wales of proud Welsh ancestry, but born and raised in a nameless English city. He fought in the British Armed Forces and saw action around the World. When he was wounded he returned to the land of his grandfather and become part of a rural coastal community where he has found a Croeso Cynnes Cymraeg (a warm welsh welcome). In his story he is shown the best of family life and sees the worst of peoples’ characters either in North Wales or in a hot war zone. His relationship with his Welsh girlfriend is passionate, rewarding and fiery.

Dan Richards journey of adventure reflects my own love of Wales and the characters, places and attitudes that I have come across. There is provincial small mindedness and ignorance but there is also warmth, generosity, humour and intelligence. Apart from the rugged beauty of her mountains, coast and countryside, Wales has much to be proud of in its people. I just wish sometimes they would believe in themselves some more. 

Cymru Am Byth! 

Iechyd’da (Cheers)

JR Sheridan (18/04/2012)

By the way, now that I have no money left to “invest” on Anglesey, I live and write in Gwynedd. Its closer to the shops.