Sad News

by martincwday

A few weeks back, my friend Sue Teddern reposted a tweet from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall about the writer, fisherman and agony uncle Nick Fisher. He had gone missing from his home in Dorset and everyone was worried for him. Tragically, and as you might already know, the search did not end positively. I read his obituary in the Guardian a couple of days ago[1] and I  wanted to write something about him – or, rather, my reaction to the desperately sad news.

It’s important to say at the outset that this isn’t primarily a blog about Nick. I only knew Nick through his work, though I believe he may have been a Writers’ Guild member when I was Wessex chair. However, I’ve been thinking about him a lot since that fateful Friday – and about how trauma involving people we don’t know can affect us so deeply, and bring to mind our own hurts. (Fans of Nick Cave will almost certainly understand what I’m talking about.)

People, quite rightly, mock the concept of ‘thoughts and prayers’, especially when the phrase is used to sweeten a certain type of political or practical handwashing. However, in circumstances like this, and however we define them, it’s all we’ve got. My thoughts go out to Nick Fisher’s family and friends. I wish them well. The loss is almost unimaginable (or imaginable only to those who have experienced similar trauma and grief), and I don’t know how they’ll cope, though I hope that they do.

I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s a natural and very human response, this reaction to the grief of people we do not know. And yet, how easy it is to feel that you do know people, having encountered them only through their ‘art’. Nick’s writing was magnificent, and BAFTA-winning. I especially adored Manchild, which Sue script-edited: four childhood friends (played by Nigel Havers, Anthony Head, Don Warrington and Ray Burdis) facing, or throwing themselves into, mid-life crises. Kids, marriage, sex and money. Everyday and relatable stories, even if the characters had assumed positions of privilege. I have a vague memory of emailing him, years ago, to say how much I loved that show. Or perhaps I just meant to. I really hope I did.

I make no apologies: I love letting creative people know if I enjoy their work. There’s a blog to come (if I haven’t already said this before) about mental health, and its polar opposite, when you lose your emotional connection to the world, and the people, around you. (At least, that was how depression manifested in me, and it was in part triggered by events in my writing life.) However, I’m not saying ‘artists’ deserve a free pass and should never be criticised, but I am explaining why I think it’s important to be positive when we can. We might never again have that opportunity to say to someone, ‘I love your writing!’ (and mean it). And it could mean everything to them.

So if it ever sounds like I’m starstruck or bum-licky, or not inclined to be part of some internet pile-on… Well, I’d rather that than be unfailingly negative and bitter. It’s not about professional grovelling: I don’t think it makes much difference as we jostle our way up, and down, the greasy pole. But better I think to be known as a moderately successful writer who is occasionally kind, than a moderately successful writer who tends to be a bit of a git.

Incidentally, I ended my last little blog with the words, Don’t stop. You never know what’s around the corner. Keep writing. I was thinking of this the other day, when my wife stumbled across a diary entry from a decade or so back. She wrote that I was feeling down about something telly-ish (I think Casualty had said ‘No’, again)… But a few days later, I got a commission (I don’t even remember what for now) and my mood was transformed.

I can’t promise that every ‘down’ will immediately be followed by an ‘up’ (in the creative life, or life in general). But let’s be kind to each other along the way. And, if we can, be kind to ourselves. I’m sure it’s what Nick Fisher, Just Seventeen’s agony uncle, would have wanted.

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2022/dec/04/nick-fisher-obituary. It’s trivial, which is why I’ve related this to a footnote, but I had not realised before that Nick was David (Doctor Who) Fisher’s son.