The White Collar Tramp

In another life, he interviewed Margaret Thatcher and took holidays in Goa. Now, he sleeps on the street. Ed Mitchell, a former television journalist, has been homeless for the past year, after losing his £100,000 job at CNBC.

It's a sad tale of drink, debt and despair, but according to Mitchell, he's far from being the only "white collar tramp", and the worst may be yet to come:

"There is a tsunami of bad debt about to hit this economy," he said."Pandora's box has been opened."

In the meantime, Mitchell survives on the kindness of strangers and a philosophical outlook on his new life.

"Now I look at each day and think 'what is going to happen today?'," he said. "It is an existence that makes you appreciate small luxuries and kindnesses." On Thursday night he returned to his bench to find a wrapped Christmas present containing a bar of Dairy Milk, hat, gloves, a razor and deodorant."

Net Gains?

Is the internet good for writers?

That's the question on webzine 10zenmonkeys. And answers came there many:

I'm really sick of opinions and of most of what passes for online debate. Even the more artful rhetorical elements of argument and debate are rarely seen amidst the food fights, the generic argumentative “moves,” the poor syntax, and the often lame attempts to bring a “fresh take” to a topic. This is not an encouraging environment from which to speak from the heart or the soul or whatever it is that makes living, breathing prose an actual source of sustenance and spiritual strength.

We're drowning in yak, and it's getting harder and harder to hear the insightful voices through all the media cacophony. Oscar Wilde would be just another forlorn blogger out on the media asteroid belt in our day, constantly checking his SiteMeter's Average Hits Per Day and Average Visit Length.

The web enables us to write in public and, maybe one day, strike off the shackles of cubicle hell and get rich living by our wits. Sometimes I think we're just about to turn that cultural corner. Then I step onto the New York subway, where most of the car is talking nonstop on cellphones. Time was when people would have occupied their idle hours between the covers of a book. No more. We've turned the psyche inside out, exteriorizing our egos, extruding our selves into public space and filling our inner vacuums with white noise.

The internet has made research much easier, which is both good and bad. It's good not to be forced to go libraries to fact check and throw together bibliographic references. But it's bad not to be forced to do this, since it diminishes the possibility of accidental discovery. Physically browsing on library stacks and at used bookstores can lead to extraordinary discoveries. One can also discover extraordinary things online, too, but the physical process of doing so is somehow more personally gratifying.

Used to be I sat at an alphabet keyboard (called typewriters in my day) when I had an assignment or inspiration. Now it's all I do. Go to a library? Why? You can get what you need on the internet. Which means I've been suffering from Acute Cabin Fever since 1999 (when I tragically signed up for internet access). Sure, I could get off my ass and go to a library, but the internet is like heroin. Why take a walk in the park when you can boot up and find beauty behind your eyelids or truth from the MacBook? (Interesting that the term 'boot-up' is junkie-speak.)

J.K. Rowling wrote her first manuscript on paper towels and napkins. You may as well ask the question “Is tissue paper good for writers?”. The answer is the same. Sure it is, if they can write and get it to their audience.

My own feeling is that while the internet offers a huge amount to the writer - especially in terms of fact checking and communicating with other writers - it is immensely distracting. And on that note, excuse me while I go and play online Scrabble.