I've been committed

I've been thinking a bit about commitment today. It's a funny old thing. It's the beliefs you hang on to with wild abandon, until it is no more use to you. That point may never come and for some of the things we are committed to, we hope it never does. Children, for example. It's true that the love you feel for  your baby is like nothing else. And it's not something that diminishes over time. And it's not something that diminishes when baby number two comes along. It's a wonder you can fit all that love into one person. I have taken on a huge commitment with my children's education... mainly because the education system for children with Autism is unfit for purpose, so as their parents and guardians of their future, it is down to us to provide the safe and nurturing environment for the education that will make all the difference to their lives.

Then there's the commitment to work. It doesn't feel like work, it feels like play so in many ways the word commitment is not the right one. Except when I was learning to play this career at Art College, there was little in the way of marketing and business teaching. I had this wonderful idyllic view of my future, where I sat at my desk all day painting. Somehow, by some mysterious means my books would sell themselves and I would not have to think in numbers or sit outside my comfort zone. But hey, that wouldn't really be commitment, would it? 

 

In reality, I find myself thinking about numbers quite a lot, doing my own accounts (and those of my dyslexic and number phobic other half) filing tax returns, banking money, paying cheques... working out how many books I need to sell to cover costs, what to price those books at, finding out about the psychology of purchasing. I spend time filling in forms for public liability insurance, book events, summer events, school events. I fill in forms for all sorts of things. 

I do the yucky things that means the painting, drawing and story telling add up to commitment. Like a marriage - doing the things you'd only do for a person if you really loved them. 

It took me around 35 years to make a rule about commitment when reading fiction. My rule is, when reading a book for pleasure, if I don't 'get it' by page 50, it gets dumped. I did this with Life of Pi by Yann Martel. I know, I know, I should probably get tomatoed in the stocks, but I found it so tedious that I decided life was too short and I'd rather go and find another book to get my teeth into. Before the rule, I read A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka. Contrary to most reviews I read, I found this an utterly depressing book; maybe it was because my Dad was at the same age as the protagonist and I felt very angry that the elderly man was being so stripped of his dignity. Apparently, it is a very funny book. I guess I missed the point.

    

Luckily, most children's picture books don't get to page 50, so I'm quite happy to read the whole thing!! I passed on my 50 page rule to a group of school children recently. Not sure if this was the right thing to do in retrospect as maybe they will be required to read a boring book for their GCSE's. One of my set texts for English O'level, was The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins. Boy, did I struggle with that. For the first half of the book my eyes slogged over the words, trying to stay awake. Then all of a sudden, it started to make sense and I sped to the end, thinking it was so good, I'd read some other Collins!! By choice!!! At sixteen!!!


   

So, it doesn't always work, this 50 page rule. I was bought The God of Small Things by Arundati Roy about 20 years ago. I know what happens in the end because I listened to the last episode of a Radio 4 adaptation and it was a really great ending. Maybe it's time to get it out and give it another try.

What book have you tested your commitment on?