What Take That taught me about writing

Oh do allow me set the scene.

I’m back in the middle of the 1990s, it’s a Monday night and therefore student night at The Cavern in Liverpool. The stone walls drip sweat, Diamond White is £1 a bottle and there are free plates of Liverpool Scouse. The dance floor is packed and I’m there, no handbag, short skirt, high heels, singing and dancing in a rather animated way. The DJ is playing songs by Take That.

Fast forward far too many years, to July 1 2009. I’m with the lovely P and we’re at Wembley with 80,000 other people. It’s the hottest day of the year, I’ve a bottle of water, a long dress, a huge handbag, flip flops and I’m up on my feet singing and dancing. Take That are performing.

There was something very overwhelming about being in Wembley with 80,000 others. The show was amazing, the attention to detail, the colours, the sleekness. It really was breathtaking. The boys looked fabulous, truly fabulous. They were entertainers who engaged the crowd.

Those Take That boys made a comeback, clearly a hugely successful one, but despite that achievement there was no arrogance and no slacking in any way. They were clearly on tour to give their audience an amazing show, filled with their energy, passion and commitment. And in amongst all of that, it was clear that they were grateful, that they were humbled and, I guess, also very aware of how public opinion can alter at any moment.

I think this can be applied to writing too. Many of us dream (or have dreamed) of being published and many will look at a published writer and think that they somehow ‘have it easy’. Yet, I honestly believe that just because a writer is published, that this does not mean that they can ever become slack. It really really makes me cross when established writers churn out repeats of previous successes. It feels lazy, like they’ve stopped trying because they’re so confident their readers will buy whatever they publish.

Truly, for me the pressure is always there, each piece of writing needs to be better, to be different, to cause comment. To take any readership for granted would be such a huge mistake, because clearly any writer is only ever as good as the last thing that a reader has read. Writing, art, performance, it’s all the same. It all needs passion, energy and commitment to be spilling from it. And so, when my passion for writing goes, when I can no longer be bothered, then that’ll be the time to hang up my pen and cry.

(and for those of you who follow me on Twitter, Take That did not whisk me away, did not fall madly in love with me and did not appear to notice me at all. Sob. I am so going to project this rejection into novel 4) (and so clearly, I need a hat with a ‘H’ for Howard on it and a ‘I heart Take That’ t-shirt to go with my writing pants)