If I Never — Free Sample Chapter.
July 2, 2009
Over recent weeks, a number of people have been asking me if samples of If I Never would be available online. After discussing it with my publisher, we’ve decided to — given all the support and encouragement I’ve been getting from my online friends and followers — make the first chapter available here.
This is the unedited manuscript version (a little more than will be in the book itself), so I suppose it could be considered something of a collector’s item 
Please feel free to download it and forward it to any friends you think may find it of interest.
I hope you enjoy it.
Read the free sample chapter of If I Never by clicking here.
You Can Laugh at Disability.
April 22, 2009
I haven’t blogged for quite a while, I know. Life has been rather hectic of late — in a good, my-book’s-getting-published way, thankfully (more about that soon.) So I thought I’d return, however briefly, with a bit of a bang.
It would seem that, once again, people are intent on telling us what we can and can’t laugh at. Physicist Stephen Hawking — a gentleman I happen to admire and respect a great deal — has been featured in a cartoon which shows two people discussing him and referring to the fact that he’s recently been seriously ill. The caption reads: “I wonder if they’ve tried switching him off and switching him on again”.
Now, I know. Bad taste, right? I mean, the guy was ill and, you know, disabled. We can’t laugh about things like that, can we? Well, if The Motor Neurone Disease Association is to be believed, no. It’s taboo. It’s forbidden — it is, they say, distasteful and mocks disability.
Speaking as someone with a severe physical disability, though, what do I say?
Firstly, Stephen Hawking does not need a charity to speak for him. He has a voice synthesiser, and the last I heard it was working just fine. I understand that the charity was, to a degree, speaking for those who cannot represent themselves. But even so, this in itself does not mean that they are right. (Just in case there’s any doubt, I think they are wrong.)
Secondly, it was funny. I laughed. As someone who is, in my own way, rather dependent on technology, it struck a chord with me. This cartoon was actually rather clever. It doesn’t just speak about Hawking and disability. It speaks about how reliant we’ve become on technology and, to my mind, the whole question of where man ends and machine begins.
Thirdly, humour at the expense of someone with a disability does not necessarily mean that they are being cruelly mocked. Yes, humour can, at times, be used as a weapon — but in my own experience jokes about my disability, jokes aimed directly at me by people I know, often have more to do with inclusion than anything else. We rib people in a friendly way to make them feel, at times, special. The friendly leg pull that says “you are one of us”.
Fourthly, is it just me, or are these associations/charities becoming just a little bit distasteful themselves in the opportunistic way they pounce on these stories — in an attempt, the cynic in me insists (or is it the realist in me?), in an attempt to promote themselves? After all, this particular cartoon featured in a regional newspaper and probably wouldn’t have come to the attention of more than a handful of people had The Motor Neurone Disease Association not insisted on speaking out about it and labelling it offensive.
Ultimately, I have to say I find the very idea of being told what I can and cannot laugh at execrable. To say, as has been said, that such a cartoon reduces Hawking to a condition and the technology he uses is, frankly, far more insulting to the esteemed professor than any cartoon could ever be. By all means, defend those who need to be defended — but I very much doubt that Hawking wants or needs this kind of representation. He probably found it amusing, too.
But maybe that’s too much of a leap for me to take so, instead, I’ll simply say this: if any charity out there ever feels the need to come to my defence without my explicitly requesting it, don’t. It’s presumptuous and offensive… one might even say prejudiced.
A Pain in the…
January 13, 2009
I’m not quite up to proper blogging, yet (getting there, though), but something a friend said on Twitter reminded me (by a slightly circuitous route) of this — and I just had to share.
All text © 2009 Gary William Murning
Oh Happy Day!
December 15, 2008
Some days you just shouldn’t look at the news. I mean, you shouldn’t even peek at it out of the corner of your eye in a squinty way. Some days the news just seems to be one malicious belly laugh of a story after another.
Take today, for example:
- More financial turmoil as a US hedge fund (no, I don’t understand them, either… nor do many of their investors, methinks!) fraud kicks some of the world’s biggest banks well and truly in the goolies.
- A woman in Belfast has rabies. You know, the one they used to run all the adverts about back in the 70s… (They always scared me witless, when I was a kid. I was convinced that if a dog so much as farted in my general vicinity I’d catch it).
- The winter vomiting virus (I didn’t know viruses could vomit) is threatening to spread rapidly across England “unless people are sensible and stay at home”. At Christmas. With all that shopping to do. And the partying. Fat chance.
- And if that wasn’t bad enough, three Scout leaders from Cornwall had their canoe sunk by a hippopotamus in West Africa! Rogue hippopotami! What is the world coming to? (So much for Scout leaders being prepared!… sorry.)
Makes you wish you’d stayed in bed, doesn’t it?
But, of course, it isn’t all bad news. No, really, it isn’t. Oh, all right, then, have it your way. It is all bad — but some news is less bad. For example, tomorrow should see me hitting 20,000 words with Tomorrow Will Come and Will Be Just Like Today. Granted, that means that I still have somewhere in the region of 140,000 words to go — but only a couple of weeks ago I still had 150,000 words ahead of me. See?
Joking aside, all being well I’ll hit my aforementioned pre-Christmas target of 20,000 words tomorrow. I’ll then be focusing on tidying up what I’ve written so far, sorting my notes ready for the new year and generally concentrating on trying to switch off from it for a while. I’m looking forward to the break, even whilst I’m not looking forward to the break! Novels such as Tomorrow Will Come… can tend to be rather demanding. They want to be written. They want to dictate the workrate. It can be hard to resist. But sometimes it’s very important that you do.
If I return to work before the first of January 2009 you have my permission to call me nasty names and stuff.
The Truth About Santa.
December 2, 2008
Now, please read this very, very carefully. The following video contains possibly highly offensive material. It isn’t work safe, I wouldn’t recommend you let the kids look at/listen to it, if you don’t like bad language, it’s definitely a no-no and, well, just be warned.
The things Santa and those bloody reindeer get up to…
Singularly Toothsome — Stephen Fry Chats to Clive James.
November 30, 2008
For some time, cultural commentator, author, poet, television presenter, etc, Clive James has hosted his own online interview show, creatively titled Clive James Talking in the Library (in case you haven’t quite managed to work it out for yourself, it features Clive in a library — his, I believe — talking to various people.) I heard about it a good while ago and, as is often the way, promptly forgot all about it.
Last night, however, I managed to catch an episode that happened to be showing on one of the Sky Arts channels — an interview with the novelist Nick Hornby. I enjoyed its conversational tone so much that this morning, once I’d finished reading through last week’s work and making notes about what I plan to write this coming week, I tootled along to YouTube and, delight of delights, found an episode featuring that driver of London taxis and all-round sagacious wit Stephen Fry (okay, so he’s a Mac user — but we can’t all be perfect, right?)
Naturally, given my generous nature, I felt it was my duty to share this discovery with you. I simply wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night knowing that you (yes, you!) had missed out on such charms and witticisms. Feel free to thank me if you must, in whichever way seems most appropriate. But please bear in mind that I’m a delicate chap, and whilst I would encourage you to be creative in how you choose to show your gratitude, please allow me a few moments to get my breath back every once in a while.
Part One.
Part Two.
Part Three.
Tidings of Comfort and Whatsit.
November 27, 2008
In my continuing attempt to liberally spread comfort and joy at this festive time of year — fearlessly struggling to get to the heart of what Christmas really is and why it’s so very important to, you know, remember the real meaning behind it and take appropriate precautions when you get rat-arsed at the office party and get jiggy with your secretary — I thought I would take a moment from my busy Christmas shopping schedule (that’s a joke, by the way) to share with you a truly meaningful greetings card by a gentleman called Dean Morris.
Now, need we really say more?
It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas.
November 25, 2008
Ah, yes, that magical season is almost upon us and as is my custom at this time of year, I’m already finding myself wallowing quite nicely and appreciably in the anti-Spirit of Christmas — grumbling away to myself about the excess and foolishness, and generally having a thoroughly enjoyable time being quite contrary.
Bearing this in mind I thought now might be a good time to issue fair warning. Over the next four weeks or so Gary William Murning Online is very likely to become a place at least in part dedicated to everything that is not Christmas. The festive season will be mentioned frequently, of course, but the attitude will strictly be one of irreverence and hopefully enjoyable complaint.
If Christmas is not for you — or even if you only pretend not to enjoy it — remember to keep calling back. There will be (if I can be arsed) suitably atheistic delights, anti-Christmas quotes, possibly the odd dig at the expense of the various (stolen!) Christmas traditions and maybe even some mulled wine (because, let’s face it, it isn’t all bad, right?)
In leaving, and so that I might suitably set the tone, I’d like to share with you a quote from that wit and all-round good egg Mr Stephen Fry:
“Christmas to a child is the first terrible proof that to travel hopefully is better than to arrive.”
