Time

My first book was written whilst sitting on the toilet in a factory that employed me to sweep floors, so you can imagine the fun I have when people comment - on finding out that I am a writer - 'off course I'd love to write a book but I haven't got the time'. Invariably their faces scrunch into question marks when I ask 'is there a toilet where you work?'
Not that I recommend the loo as a the healthiest environment to write your latest - or indeed first - bestseller, far from it, in fact after six months of sitting on the throne I now suffer loss of feeling in my lower legs and a permanent red ring around my bum. No, rather I am making the point that if you have the will you'll always find a way, but if you haven't or you harbour any doubts or fears then lack of time will always be a convenient excuse not to live your dreams. When I wrote my first book I was doing two jobs and bringing up a family. I wanted desperately to write a book, I was fully committed to writing it and, hey voila! I found the time. But by the same count whenever I failed to fully commit my self to a goal - and there were many such occasions - and when I did not place my heart in the driving seat 'time' was not forthcoming and the vehicle refused to move.

The next convenient excuse (believe me I have used them all) that people lean towards is lack of facility (do you have a toilet where you work?) Granted at some point in your development tools and facilities will be important, and lack of them can hold you back, but that's no excuse for not starting out, and certainly no pretext for not succeeding. Pele, arguably the greatest football player of all time, honed his ball skill kicking Coconuts barefoot (ouch!) on the beach. Many a thriving, multi-million (even multi-billion) £ business was started from a rickety garden shed held together by chunks of work ethic and a set of hand-me-down, elbow greased tools. A great proportion of successful entrepreneurs build their conglomerates out of cottage industry. Many godzillionaires make (and made) their fortunes not only despite their handicaps but also because of them. Richard Branson's first office was a public pone booth. He had no facilities and no money, but he did have a centripetal want (and bollocks the size of coconuts) that attracted success and convinced bank managers to hand over the readies without a security or reference in sight.

Do you realise how many genius ideas are lost when the moment is not seized, and how many are stolen while people stand in the shadow of trepidation? For instance it is thought that some of the greatest writers of each generation never see their name in print and are never published. And it's not because prospective publishers turn down their work, rather it is because the authors never send their work off. Or even worse they never actually write it in the first place.

All my early work was hand written and in severe conditions that did not lend them selves to my quest. Until I could afford a word processor (later a computer) my working tools consisted of one blue biro (with perfunctory chewed top) and a lined, ring-bound reporter's pad kindly donated by the factory stores. I had no 'Time' machine with fail-safe grammar and spell check - unless you count my wife who kept saying things like 'you've spelt that wrong' - and no hefty commission-carrot tempting the words from my often uncooperative unconscious. My only incentive - and my driving force - was the dread of having to work in the factory for the rest of my life. In fact the only thing I did have that set me ahead of the crowd was desire. Whilst I may have lacked the contemporary tools of the scribe and my writing quarters were certainly not ideal (one might say that they were piss- poor) I did desperately want to write; and my want was always greater than my lack. Once you have desire and you totally commit yourself to the process it is almost as though the whole universe conspires to make it happen. Those that don't make the commitment rarely if ever make the grade. And I know how hard it can be, I am sympathetic to family and work commitments, I brought up four children so I know all about responsibility, but as I said - and forgive the reiteration - time is very malleable, it can be stretched, it accommodates committed souls, those searching for the grail of achievement. Paradoxically time can be cruel; it will be gone forever, never to be seen again, if we fail to use it profitably. We immortalise our time by investing every second, minute and hour in the present.

And I figure that when it comes to using our time we would be wise to recognise that we are all allotted the same amount - Branson and Gates only get 24 hours a day - it is what we do with our time that determines where our lives may lead. For me it means getting up early and going to bed late, it also means sacrificing some of the little things that act as time-eating termites. But above all it means refraining from the time honoured excuse 'I haven't got time' because you have. Really! In my experience 'haven't got the time' is just a pseudonym for 'haven't got the will'. You'll always fit in more if 'more' is preceded by a no-excuses personal commitment to make it happen. If you want something enough and I mean really want it with your heart and soul nothing will stop you, nothing will get in your way - even mountains will tremble into molehills.

You don't have to look far to see the people that don't make that commitment. They're the ones sitting in the factory canteen bemoaning their existence and blaming the world for their lack - I was once one of them. Now I make a commitment, and for many reasons, not least because I refuse to be a 90-something coffin-dodger without a Laurel to rest upon, spending my days regretting the things that I failed to do.