How To Fail With Elizabeth Day - S1, Ep7 How to Fail: David Nicholls

Episode Date: August 22, 2018

David Nicholls, bestselling novelist, critically acclaimed screenwriter, aspiring piano player and thoroughly nice man, joins How To Fail to talk about his myriad failures. You might not expect the author of One Day, which sold five million copies and was adapted into a film starring Anne Hathaway, to have much of an acquaintance with failure, but Nicholls insists there’s plenty to discuss. We touch on his failure to be an actor for 10 years (he was always the understudy; never the main part), the anxiety that comes with success, the challenges and beauty of fatherhood and his failure to drive a car competently above 40 miles per hour.We also talk about his Booker-longlisted novel, Us, and his brilliant TV adaptation of the Edward St Aubyn Patrick Melrose novels starring Benedict Cumberbatch, as well as the time he acted with Dame Judi Dench. Despite all his achievements, Nicholls admits he still feels ‘very thin-skinned’ which is partly why he left Twitter after accidentally getting into a row with Stephen Fry (trust me, it’s a good story) and why, when a critic once said ‘No-one turns to David Nicholls for great sex scenes’ he felt he had to defend himself. So listen in to find out how to write sex. Or maybe how not to write sex. One or the other.  How To Fail is hosted by Elizabeth Day and produced by Chris Sharp  How To Fail is sponsored by Moorish  Social Media: Elizabeth Day @elizabdayMoorish @moorishhumousChris Sharp @chrissharpaudio Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Let's go seize the night. That's the powerful backing of American Express. Visit amex.ca slash yamex. Benefits vary by car and other conditions apply. Hello and welcome to How to Fail, the podcast that celebrates the things that haven't gone right. Hosted by author and journalist Elizabeth Day, that's me. This is a podcast about learning from our mistakes and understanding that why we fail ultimately makes us stronger. Because learning how to fail in life actually means learning how

to succeed better. My guest this week on How to Fail is the writer David Nichols. He is the author of four critically acclaimed and best-selling novels. His third, published in 2009, was One Day, a story of love over the decades that made us weep, laugh and then weep again before going on to sell over five million copies. His most recent novel, Us, was long listed for the Booker Prize. Along the way, Nicholls has also carved out a career as one of Britain's leading screenwriters, contributing scripts to the television comedy Cold Feet and going on to adapt Far From the Madding Crowd into a movie starring Carey Mulligan. Most recently, he wrote the scripts for Patrick Melrose, a five-part drama

for Sky Atlantic based on the novels by Edward St. Aubin. Patrick Melrose starred Benedict Cumberbatch as the recovering heroin addict struggling with childhood trauma and was, for my money, one of the best things on television in recent years. But Nicholls has encountered his own fair share of failure too. He only became a writer after unsuccessfully trying to be an actor first and says that, despite the impressive sales and critical praise, my heart absolutely snaps every time I read a one-star review. So David, how often do you read a one-star review? I think you'd be insane to seek those things out, but I know they're there. I did a publicity event

not so long ago, actually, with someone. We had a perfectly nice conversation. It was a book event and it was going very well. And they said, I don't know if you ever read reviews, but I was looking at the reviews for one day and I thought you might want to hear these. And he read out a whole kind of stream of terrible reviews to the point where I had to say, no, it's fine. You just stop now. I get the point. I know that they're there. I know they're out there. But I find it hard, for instance, if I ever see something I've written or something I've worked on come up on Amazon or Netflix or whatever, I have to very quickly look away. IMDB, because I don't want to know the star rating or anything. I find it endlessly anxiety-making, really. And not because I feel there's anything wrong with the critical process or giving stars to things, giving marks,

giving marks out of five or a hundred is fine. It's part of how people judge things. But because it's done, you know, it's finished. There's nothing I can do. I can't take the criticism on board. And I'm fully aware of the things that I would do differently and the things I got wrong. I'm not unaware that they're there, the faults. Do you think you've ever changed your style of writing following on from having read something in a critical review? Again, I don't read reviews, but it's impossible to completely avoid a sense of what's said. Do you not read newspaper reviews? No, no, I don't read reviews, but it's impossible to completely avoid a sense of what's said. Do you not read newspaper reviews?

No, no, I don't. And again, not because of any sort of fury or contempt at the art of reviewing. I think it's really valuable, but it's done. And I could write my own bad review. You know, I could write a whole list of all the things that are wrong with the book or the show or the film. I remember when the last book came out that a critic said, no one turns to David Nichols for great sex scenes. And pointed out that I'd never really written a sex scene, that I always kind of faded to black, which is true.

And I'm writing a novel now and I keep thinking, right, this will show him. I can't do it. I also think you, as a writer starting something new, you have to strike a balance between doing something new and recognising what you do well. So there are things that I want to try that I haven't tried yet. But at the same time, I'm aware of my limits, both my own perceptions of my limits and critics' perceptions. Do you think it's just generally difficult to write sex well? Yeah, I think there's a problem with vocabulary, really. You either sound very technical or you sound crude.

And I'm aware of my mum picking it up. I think I'm aware when I read other writers' sex scenes. You know, the things you write reflect who you are and what you feel. And even with a 19th century writer like Thomas Hardy, I feel I know a little bit too much about what he finds attractive. He's always talking about how curvy the female characters are. He doesn't use that word. But I always think, I'm not sure if I want to know this about Thomas Hardy, which is ridiculous because it is possible to write centrally and to write

about sex in a good way, you know, to strike a balance and to pull it off. I just, I feel a little wary. And do you think that there is a power in leaving things unsaid? Yeah, I think so. I'm a big fan of fading to black. I kind of think there are some things you shouldn't dodge and you have to face up to. And I think that the books, even though they're broadly comic, you know, are quite tough about loneliness and

sadness and mental illness and alcoholism. And, you know, I've written about those things in a very frank way, in a way that doesn't involve Fading to Black, isn't dishonest. But other things, I'm happy to leave them off the page. And I think for me anyway, at this stage, sex probably comes under that heading. Because I'm thinking of one particular scene in the Patrick Melrose adaptations which was deeply traumatic as a viewer because you were presenting something that was deeply traumatic for Patrick Melrose played by Benedict Cumberbatch as a child but you didn't show it and I do think that was very powerful.

Yes, for people who know that novel, there's a scene which is brilliantly written, but extremely shocking and difficult. And once you make that flesh, once you employ actors to reenact it, it becomes impossible. And also unnecessary, because I think you can pull other things out of the novel, symbols or signs or images that will do the job. And you also have to remember that you have cinematography to play with and music which will accentuate things. And I think often, particularly with Patrick Melrose,

it isn't a crime not to show things, to pull back, to show a door being closed or focus on a lizard on the wall instead of what actually happens on the page because it's a different medium. It's not just necessary for practical reasons, it's a better artistic decision to be less explicit. It made me really cry that episode. Did it make you cry to write it and what's it like watching it? I found watching it more emotional than writing it because I'm endlessly blown away by actors. You know, I love watching them and I find it really thrilling what they can do.

I found the whole series disconcerting because I found it very, very funny with these moments of where you really had to look away. It was very troubling and difficult and harrowing in an inappropriate way. and difficult and harrowing in an inappropriate way. I think I was always worried watching it about being exploitative or shallow about these very difficult subjects. So probably my concern watching it slightly stomped on my emotional response. Because once something's finished,

once you watch the final cut, largely what you're watching are the mistakes, the things that aren't quite right, the lines that you should have rewritten, the words that you got wrong. And occasionally things that other people are responsible for that aren't necessarily as you imagined. So the critical voice is sort of screaming in my ear when I'm watching something. And Patrick Melrose was very well received. But watching Final Cuts, I was pretty scared and wary

and acutely aware of things that could have been better. So that sort of takes the pleasure out of it for me, really, the emotion. I mean, there is pleasure in it because I love the work and I'm proud of it, but the things that aren't quite right do tend to dominate. You spoke there about loving watching what actors do, which brings us on seamlessly to your first failure yes where you tried to be an actor I did yes for a long time I started acting at secondary school because the school I went to there were no boys who prepared to be in the place I mean no one

and so I had this fantastic pick of roles in these terrible productions. I was always quite high up the cast list. And I really loved it. I loved the fact that it was me and all these girls, to be honest. And I loved the status that I had because I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't play any kind of sport. But I really loved doing amateur dramatics. I loved it was sort of showing off. As I sort of went through my A-levels, that took over. And I'd always been an obsessive TV viewer. I mean, watching films and drama on

television was a huge part of my childhood. Four or five hours a day, endless movies, endless TV dramas, endless soap operas and sitcoms. And I was very aware of this thing called acting and the effect it could have. And, you know, it was kind of quite nerdy about particular actors and what they could do and their CV. And I loved that world, vicariously, really, until I started to be in these student productions. And then when it came to deciding what to do at university, I wasn't until quite late going to do medicine or some form of science.

And then I gave up chemistry and did theatre studies instead. And that was sort of my fate sealed, really. So I studied English and drama at Bristol and did, again, a lot of productions and really loved it. And when I left, I was a little lost, I think. I mean, a bit like Emma in one day, I didn't quite know what to do. But I knew I liked this thing that was called drama, not theatre necessarily. I didn't grow up going to the theatre. I think I may have seen, before I went to university, two or three plays. But I thought, maybe I'll give it a go.

And I didn't have any money left to study in the UK, but I got a grant to study acting at the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in New York. And because I'd never left the country, this was another element to it. This was exciting to go and live in New York for a while and study acting at this stage school. So that's what I did. And on my very first day, I arrived, it was a musical theatre class. And they said that they wanted everyone to go up one by one and to recite the lyrics of a song as if it was a dramatic monologue. So people were getting up one by one and going, I don't know how to love him, he's a man, just a man,

or chim-chimney, chim-chimney, chim-chim-chimney, one by one. And I had this sneaking feeling watching people go up and performing these song lyrics that I was in the wrong place. And I really was. I mean, I really didn't fit in at that drama school. It was very musical theatre based. And everyone there, they were all triple threats. You know, they could all act and sing and dance. And I could barely act and I couldn't do an American accent. So it was a bad decision. But I was kind of committed to it by that stage. And when I came back to London, I really went for it. You know, I got my equity

card and I did a lot of fringe theatre and did a lot of small productions. Do you remember what the song was that you... Oh, yes, it was Mack the Knife, because you didn't have to really sing Mack the Knife, you could sort of speak it anyway. When I came back to London, yeah, I did a lot of fringe theatre. And through friends, really, through friends who are having more success than I was, I got a lot of small parts and finally got a job at the National Theatre as an understudy for this new play called Arcadia. And that's where I stayed for about four or five years, understudying and playing small parts and walk-ons and tiny roles, and never really getting any further

up the cast list which was the intention really the idea was that it was sort of like the civil service for actors and that if you did your stint as an understudy you would eventually get offered a speaking role and I don't think I ever spoke more than four lines in a play and I gave myself a deadline which was 29 and if I wasn't playing slightly larger roles, not huge roles, but slightly larger roles by then, then I would give up. I had a lot of spare time on my hands. So during that time, I was reading plays

and writing script reports for theatres and film companies. And thankfully, that took over. I remember making a very specific decision, which was I'd been offered the part of Valentine in Twelfth Night at the RSC, a world tour for two or three years, I think it was, understudying Orsino and playing this four-line role. And at the same time, I was offered a job as a script reader at the BBC, and I had to choose between the two. And I loved the idea of being at the RSC, even in small roles. And it would have been great to travel around and be a part of a company. I loved all that. It was like being a student.

But at the same time, I was very aware that I was 27, 28, and that probably if it wasn't happening by then, then it was never going to happen. So I gave up. What did your parents think of you becoming an actor? Well, they were, my father was furious when I gave up the idea of being a scientist or a doctor. I mean, he was really furious. And I think they were constantly worried and a little bit embarrassed when they came to see me in things. Because, you know, at university you do a lot of avant-garde stuff. You do a lot of stuff that doesn't work.

You do a lot of stuff that's mortifying, really, when you look back at it. And every now and then they'd come and see these productions. And quite rightly, they thought, what is he doing? You know, he's not really any good. Because I wasn't. I mean, I genuinely wasn't. I think the reason I worked was because I was quite poppy-ish and nice to have around, and I would do things willingly. You know, I was very enthusiastic. I was what they call a good company member. And there was a very small range of roles which I could just about get away with, which were sort of students in Chekhov. I understudied Constantine in The Seagull at the National Theatre, Judi Dench playing Arcadna. And that was the one where I thought,

if the actor's ill and I go on, I think I'm going to be all right. It might lead to something. And for weeks and weeks, I just used to wait for it to happen. Not weeks and weeks, months and months for the whole of the run. I kept waiting for that call. And you learn the role and you rehearse it. And the worst thing, I think, the most exciting thing and the worst element of it is you do a performance on the stage in the theatre,

where you get to play Constantine on the stage at the National Theatre, but to an empty auditorium, pretty much empty. It was both brilliant and also humiliating, I think, to do your curtain call to all these empty seats. And there was definitely a point where I thought, oh, this isn't getting any better. And I'm a pretty good Constantine and the Seagull. But apart from that, I'm not really any good. I couldn't really do accents. I couldn't move. I couldn't dance. I used to go into rehearsals every day and watch these brilliant, brilliant young actors do extraordinary things with a kind of an unnameable quality that I knew I didn't have. And it was a slow realisation, I suppose, that what I loved about being in those rooms, it wasn't really the business of acting

and getting up and showing off. It was the fact that you were telling stories and you were working with characters and scenes and dialogue and plays and structure. I loved writing. I loved the writing element of it. And it took me a long time to realise that that was really where my interest lay. Even after I gave it up and began writing, I'd occasionally get a little glimmer of a role. The last piece of acting I ever did was in Stephen Freer's film, The Deal, the one about Blair and Brown. My God, that's quite recent in my head. Yeah, I think it was, I have one line in it. I think this was under my stage name, which

was David Holdaway, which is my mother's maiden name. Are you a waiter in Granita? No, I'm a producer on Newsnight. And I have to say, ready when you are, Mr. Mandelson. I'm a producer on Newsnight, and I have to say, ready when you are, Mr. Mandelson. When I started writing for TV, I used to write myself little cameos. So I think I have one line or two lines in Cold Feet, some of the episodes of Cold Feet. But it was such an effort, and I'd always watch it back and think, oh, you can't do this. You really can't do this.

I'm extremely glad I got out watch it back and think, oh, you can't do this. You really can't do this. I'm extremely glad I got out of it. At the time that you made the decision, when you'd given yourself that cutoff point, and you had the choice between scripts at the BBC or going to the RSC, did it feel like a failure? Did you feel sad about it? Yeah, I think so. I mean, I really wish that I'd had that talent. And I'd hope that I'd maybe develop it, that I'd be given a chance and I'd be given a role in which I would flourish. And there were definitely a couple of points early on in my career where if things had gone the other way, there was one performance of Arcadia where the actor I was understudying forgot there was a matinee. And I was standing in the costume in the wings, getting ready to go on, running my lines, to go on and do a scene with Felicity Kendall, for heaven's sake, on the stage of the Lyttelton Theatre.

And the stage manager came up to me and said, he's just arrived. Oh my God, how excruciating. And the rule is that if the actor isn't there by the half, the understudy can insist on going on. So I had the choice, go on or not. And when an understudy goes on at the theatre, you know, it's a big production, the director tries to come in and the casting department are all there and it's your audition. I thought, what am I going to do? I didn't think about it for very long. I took off the costume and went back to my dressing room and that was that. So in all these years, I spent learning these massive roles that

never, ever, ever went on. And that felt like a failure. I think it was a failure also of nerve in that I should have, there were definitely times where I should have said, no, I'm not going to do this. I'm going to hold out for something better. I never really had enough confidence in my own ability. I never really had a sense that I could do it. And as I said, you know, I used to sit and watch Judi Dench play a scene or Bill Nighy or whatever, Harriet Walter, watch these extraordinary actors and you just think it's never going to happen. Any work you're going to get is because you're not going to spoil it. I mean, that was the kind of actor I was. I used to fill a scene, you know, an attendant lord to

fill a scene. As long as I didn't really speak or draw attention to myself, it was fine. And I could have kept on with that level of work, but I think I would have got very embittered. Do you think that living with that level of ambivalence in your life, that sense that you could almost go on stage, but you never quite did, having to learn your lines, having to be a nice person and a good company player. Did that build up your emotional resilience because you were having to operate, having sort of two things in your head at once and ultimately have to acknowledge that you weren't going to do it? No, I think towards the end, it was quite corrosive, really. I mean, there was another element to it, I suppose, which was that I was skint all the time. You know, I was living in

these terrible bedsits and I couldn't run off to Thailand because what if I missed that audition? Towards the end, I was really felt quite envious of people. There was an element of it, which was about patience and watching and learning craft and a sense of an apprenticeship. But there was also a growing sense of anxiety about the future, about picturing myself at kind of 40 or 50 doing the same thing and never, ever, ever having any money. I mean, my 20s, this is in the 90s. And I was very aware that everyone was having a very good time in London in the 90s, except me, because I was worried all the time about what was I going to do? So I can find positive things in experience, about what was I going to do?

So I can find positive things in the experience, but I definitely think of it as a failure. And also as a wrong turn, because it was a long, long time, eight years of my 20s I spent trying to work as an actor. I was probably employed for about three of those years. And the other five years, bar work and working in shops and doing things that I didn't really want to do, being unemployed. And that, I think really want to do, being unemployed.

And that's, I think, is too long looking back. So I have some stories about it. I got some anecdotes out of it and I got some friends out of it, but it was too long. So you did use a lot of those experiences for your novel, The Understudy. And I guess, did you also take what you'd learned about dialogue and character into your life as a writer I mean I think if I tried to get something positive out of the experiences that it said it was eight years of listening and reading seeing actors enjoyment at a particular line of dialogue or a little twist in a joke you know seeing seeing the pleasure that they got from from good writing and I had a lot of spare time, so I did a lot

of reading. And I think towards the end of the time that I spent acting, that's when I started to write. And I suppose there was a kind of osmosis that things went in. Yeah. Whether or not that would have been the only way to get that knowledge, I'm not sure. But I used to read a lot for the literary departments of various theatres, and I definitely learnt a lot from that about structure, about when a scene goes on too long. I don't think I could ever write for the literary departments of various theatres. And I definitely learnt a lot from that, about structure, about when a scene goes on too long. I don't think I could ever write for the theatre, though. I mean, I didn't learn anything about that. For me, theatre was a medium for acting and writing.

I was never a big theatre lover. I was never one of those people who went to the theatre five nights a week. And I still have that. I'm still not a great theatre lover. I feel probably still a little bit chippy about it as if, you know, I was rejected by this medium and so I can never really love it. I tried to write a play recently and I sort of didn't understand the rules. I didn't know how long a scene could go on for. When I write a script I have a sense of that but I don't at all in theatre. I don't know how it works. I mean, I haven't been rejected by the theatrical community

but I still think there's an awful lot of dross on stage and you're meant to say, oh, isn't it wonderful? I do often sit in the theatre and think, why are you laughing? You know, if that was on TV, you wouldn't laugh. If that was in a film, you'd want better jokes. And so I'm probably, I do sound very bitter and graceless now but what I really loved growing up was TV and film. I loved soap operas.

I loved sitcom. I watched every movie I possibly could. And theatre was accessible in a way that those other mediums weren't. Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest? This is a time of great foreboding. These words supposedly uttered by a king over 800 years ago. These words supposedly uttered by a king over 800 years ago, set in motion a chain of gruesome events and sparked cult-like devotion across the world. I'm Matt Lewis.

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So you started writing books, you wrote Start Over 10, you wrote The Understudy, and then you wrote One Day, which is the novel for which you are probably most well known, which was a massive success, she said bitterly through gritted teeth. But you did sell over 5 million copies. You later adapted it into a film starring Anne Hathaway. What does it feel like when you are that successful with a novel? Does it feel triumphant? Or are you still worrying about what comes next? I was extremely grateful. And it was an amazing thing to happen. And it gave me a kind of security that most writers crave. And that was wonderful that the book struck a chord. But I have to say that book in itself came out of a failure because the second book I actor. I thought, well, maybe, you know, I was a failure, but maybe there's a novel in it. And there was, but it didn't really fly. It didn't really sell many copies, especially after Start of a Ten, which had done quite well. So I think even when one day was doing very well, I was aware of how precarious those careers can be, which isn't to

say that I was ever anything less than delighted by the success and by the response I had and by the letters I got and the nice things people said. I suppose I also knew that with any success like that, inevitably there's a backlash and there'd be people saying that it was overrated or trashy or that it owed a debt to all these other things, that it was not original, all of that. I was aware that that was there and it caused me a certain amount of anxiety. But at the same time, that's a price you pay, I suppose, when something does well. And as I say, I'm very grateful. I'll never be resentful of that book. I mean, I'm sure I will never write anything successful ever again. And that's fine. It wasn't a great, happy time, though. I mean, it wasn't. I didn't sort of skip

around for six months when the book was very prominent. Because we were making the film and making the film was incredibly stressful and not very enjoyable. And so I was simultaneously the author of a big bestseller, but also struggling quite hard to make it work on screen. And I mean, I find all filmmaking, all filming, the actual process extremely stressful. But that one more than anything, because everywhere I went, people said, I don't screw this up. They say it in a nice way. What they mean is, you know, I really love the book. You embarking on a project like that, you know, you're always going to disappoint people.

So it's surreal to use a cliche a poison chalice, really. But I'm still very proud of One Day. If I have to, as I do sometimes, have to pick it up and open it, I don't recognise the person who wrote it. You know, it feels like a long time ago. It's ten years ago now. But it was definitely a great thing to have happened. Also, it coincided, I'm just guessing, with the birth of your children,

that whole period. Yes, I think it was was my son was quite young and I was trying to write the follow-up around about the time that my daughter was born and I found that very hard. I spent there's five years between one day and us and I wrote almost nothing I mean I spent a long long long time on a book. I rented a very bare office. And I went there every day, struggling to write the follow up to one day. There was no Wi Fi, there was nothing to do except write. And the office was grim and bare. And I spent a year trying to put something on the page. And I wrote 30,000 words, which I gave to my agent just before

Christmas, and said, let's talk in January. And we met up in January and he said, come in, let's have a chat about this sample. And we spoke about it in the space of about two hours and decided to abandon it, throw it away completely. It'd take me a year to write 30,000 words, which in itself is a warning sign. I mean, if it's that painful, then the book is never really going to fly. I mean, I'd loved writing one day because there was no anticipation, there was no expectation of it. And suddenly I found myself completely frozen by the prospect of writing a follow-up that I knew every day as I sat down at my desk would probably disappoint a large number of people. So it was a horrible way to write. But the book that I then

wrote, Us, which I am very proud of, you know, couldn't have been written without that previous disaster. So you have to have these prototypes. And when you say it couldn't have been written without that previous disaster, is that because the previous disaster was necessary to unlock something or? It showed up the flaws. It showed up the flaws with the premise. And it also showed up my weaknesses as a writer, because I think even though it's a sad book, there was a kind of life affirming quality to it. And it was a very romantic book. And I thought, well, I need to show my range. Often actors are desperate to show their range and consequently give disastrous performances.

And as a writer, I thought, well, I must show my range. I must write something terribly dark and bitter and cynical, which is what I did. And it was horrible. You know, it was a really sour book. And so even though Us is a much darker book or dark in a different way to One Day, there is a kind of generosity and kindness to it. I think it was necessary to get the poison out of my system before I could write something that was a little bit more humane. At the same time, it shouldn't have taken that long. I feel about it a little the way I feel about acting. You know, you should be able to reach these realizations a little bit faster. Failures are sometimes necessary in order to

make the thing that works. You have to crash the plane to build the one that flies. But I really would rather not crash the plane. You know, I'd rather not. I'd rather go straight into something that does what I want it to do. You'd probably rather be traveling in a hot air balloon. Yeah, with no critics watching. That was going to be my next question actually was one of the things that I think put me off writing books for ages even though that's what I knew I wanted to do was that I realized I was never going to write like the writers I most admired yeah I was never going to be Tom Wolfe no um do you have the same thing I have books lying around that I pick up for inspiration read two or three pages and think

that's what you have to aspire to. But you're right. The flip side of that is you will never get there. You can't do this. You can't write in that voice. These are masterpieces and it's great to have them lying around, but they're both inspiring and intimidating at the same time. So I don't know. I think I just do my best. I mean, the one thing I do feel is even though I do get things wrong and even though not everything works, particularly on screen,

I do work quite hard. That should never really be acknowledged by anyone, by an audience or critic. It should be taken for granted that you've done the best you possibly can. If I know what's wrong and I can fix it, then I will try and fix it. Sometimes it can't be fixed. Sometimes there's something that just doesn't really work. Like

with the film of One Day, the premise was a literary premise. There's an author who's selecting these one particular days. It's a literary device. It's a very hard device to put on screen because why are we seeing this one particular day and not all the others which are perhaps more interesting? I'm not explaining it very well, but there's something about it that doesn't quite work off the page. And often you don't realize that until it's all done. I mean, in a way, with everything I've ever done on screen, what I'd like to do is finish it and show it to people and then take it back and make it again. Because you'll have these realizations about a structural thing that doesn't work or joke that isn't funny. But they don't let

you do that. It's too late. It's too late. It's finished. It's done. I'm going to ask you quite a big question here, but I'm interested in the answer. So do you think being a writer has made you a better father? No, I don't think so. I suppose it's made, well, I found that since I've become a father that my preoccupations have changed. I don't, for instance, think that I could write a book as romantic as One Day Now, but I do think about notions of decency and kindness, and it's a recurring theme in the things that I've written recently about parents and children, and particularly fathers and sons. So I think about it a lot, but that unfortunately doesn't necessarily make you any better at it. And there's a long, long history of writers who

write brilliantly and incisively about relationships, whether romantic relationships or family relationships, who behave appallingly. So I don't think, no, I wish it did, but I don't think it does. Because it does feel during the course of these interviews that I've been doing that a lot of parents just feel that they fail all the time at being a parent. It seems to be part of the condition of being a mother or a father. Yes, I suppose I wonder what success would look like. I mean, success is, I suppose, a happy, healthy child who isn't in crisis, and they reach adulthood, broadly speaking,

in that state. And then you can feel that you've done all right. Yeah, but I've constantly making mistakes in that field. I mean, I'm not just saying the wrong thing or losing my temper. Actually, I very rarely lose my temper, but not just saying the wrong thing or handling a situation badly, just not thinking things through. No, I don't imagine. I hope that I will never think of it in terms of failure or success in quite the same way. Again, I suppose it's just about doing your best. I don't always do the right thing, but I am quite attentive, I think. I'm quite present. The whole Bram and the hallway thing has never, ever crossed my mind. You know, I write in the time that I have available to me after I have fulfilled these other responsibilities.

So do you think if your son turned around and said, I want to be an actor, would you be furious? No, I would be supportive because I recognise two things. One is that to be sort of bullied out of that doesn't really help. I mean, that you have to kind of go with it if it's a passion. I mean, I'd encourage him to examine whether it really was a passion, whether it was the only thing he could do, whether there was anything that he thought he might be better equipped to do. But if he came back to the idea, if he was really stuck on the idea, I'd try and be supportive. Because the other thing I suppose I've realized is there are ways

out, that we're not fixed at the age of 22, 23, that life is long and that you can try things for a while. And if they don't work out, do something else. Even though that process can be very nerve-wracking. I mean, you asked earlier about my parents. I think my parents were genuinely frightened about the choices I'd made until I was in my mid-30s, which was the first time that I suppose they were able to think that I was relatively stable in all aspects of my life, you know, financially and personally and everything, which is a long time for a generation who sort of felt that you should be in that state when you're 1920. I know that both of your children learn musical instruments and that one of your failures that you've listed is your own failure to learn an instrument. Yeah I'm really I'm still kind of

fuming about it I mean in the room where we are at the moment, there's a really lovely piano, which I bought myself as sort of one last attempt to learn an instrument. And I'm having to accept that I can't do it. Again, you know, I was terrible at all sports when I was a kid. And I thought, well, if I'm bad at sport, maybe it's because I have an artistic temperament. And so I actually asked for piano lessons. And we had this terrible old piano in our living room, basically a pub piano, but you could play it. It sounded awful. But there was a lovely piano teacher quite close to us. And I used to go there every week. And I did used to practice and I did used to concentrate and I did used to try and do my best, but I just't do it I just was very badly coordinated I couldn't make my hands do

what I wanted them to do in a way I felt the same about it as I felt about all sports there was this gulf between what my brain was telling me to do and what my fingers could manage I couldn't play a scale I couldn't really play anything except for Beatles songs. You know, that was the only thing I could do. I could bang out Hey Jude on a practice room piano over and over again, but I couldn't play anything that required delicacy or intricacy or coordination. And I still can't. I've started from scratch several times, worked my way through the scales. I just reached a point where my left hand feels like a claw. It just won't move faster than a certain point. It's just stuck.

Because I'm so obsessed about music. I love music so much. I would love to have that talent. But I have quite a few of these. I mean, I can't speak a language either, which I'm constantly embarrassed about and which I really wish. Again, every now and then I think,

well, teach yourself, it's not too late. And I know I never will be able to do it. So it's one of those things that I think will always escape me do you touch type yes sort of quite badly but yes I can yeah I feel that there's hope there for you with the piano yeah maybe I'll maybe I'll after you've gone I'll take one more run at those scales anything with more than two sharps or flats to me it's just's just impossible. The other thing that you said that made me laugh was your inability to drive a car above 40 miles per hour with any kind of competence. Yeah, I mean, I'm safe, but I don't like it. I don't like it. Is that because of the fear of death?

Partly. I found that I came to it very late. You know, when all my friends were learning at 17, 18 and driving around, I tried once during my, the course of my exam, the instructor had to use the emergency brake three or four times and he was swearing and he was clutching the dashboard and it was really terrible. And I was very disheartened by that. And then all through my twenties, you know, I didn't have any money and I was trying to be an actor. It didn't really seem necessary. I was living in London. And then into my 30s, it started to look a bit silly. So I tried again.

It took a while, but I got there. But I don't like it. I'm bemused by people who enjoy driving. To me, it's just too complicated. It's so stressful. And I find it extraordinary that people are allowed to drive. You can do this test and then and that's it got this machine of destruction this weapon yeah and I should

emphasize I wouldn't do it unless I thought that I was safe but I find it quite innovating the idea of going for a nice drive as a sort of form of relaxation is insane to me I'd much rather give the responsibility to the pilot or the train driver and just sit there and read. You cycle though, don't you? I do, yeah, though I find that hard on out as I get older. That seems more and more precarious to me. I'm one of those cyclists, again, you know, I wear a helmet and I stop at red lights even when there's no one on the pedestrian crossing. I'm very responsible, but you still get shouted at. You still have people drive directly at you. And I like it less and less.

I walk now. Walking feels like something that I can't fail at, at this stage of my life. I can just about pull that off. That's heartbreaking. Do you think that writers, or maybe particularly the kind of writer that you are, which is someone with heart who can understand human emotion with sensitivity do you think you have a thinner skin and you need to have a thinner skin than other people I mean that's nice of you to say I am very thin-skinned and I need to get better about that I think I think I could probably still write with a slightly

thicker skin I suppose you need to have a curiosity and an interest in observing people and making little mental notes of what people really mean when they say something. At the same time, I think that can come with a kind of toughness. And there are definitely times where I wish I'd been a little more, not just thick-skinned, but slightly less acquiescent. Making films and TV is quite combative, and I find that really difficult. I find arguing really difficult,

and quite often would rather just cave in. And as I get older, I do that less often, but certainly when I started, I was so grateful that people were making this thing that I used to let things go that I now regret, because quite often, you know, I feel often to let things go, that I now regret. Because quite often, you know, I feel often I was wrong, but sometimes I was right. There's a part of that process where I definitely feel if I'd been tougher about things, the work would have been better,

or less polite, you know, less ingratiating. So in that respect, I think, yeah, I kind of long for a slightly thicker skin, really. I wish I cared less about upsetting people. You know, I think, yeah, I kind of long for a slightly thicker skin, really. I wish I cared less about upsetting people. You know, I think you have to be critical of other people's work. Say, I'm not sure I like that piece of music or I think it was better before. I wish you hadn't done that. You know, even saying it now, I find it mortifying. But I think it's necessary in collaborative work.

It's empathy, really, isn isn't it because you can imagine how hurt someone else might be. Yeah but I think also you have to accept that people expect it even shouting which I don't I've never really done but you know it happens and people get over it and it is upsetting but it's part of being passionate about your work so I definitely I think if I have regrets about work on screen, it's not that I've sort of shouted or lost my temper or thrown my weight around, but that I've been more confident in my own opinions and yet more prepared to perhaps upset other people.

Do you think that that stems from a discomfort with the notion of anger? Well, actually, there's a distinction I suppose to be made between the anger you have in your head and the anger you express. I don't lose my temper, but I do get angry about things, certainly. But I hate the idea of raising my voice, and I very rarely do it. I'm not saying this as a boast. I mean, I think sometimes it's much better to be clear in what you feel rather than being constantly passive aggressive or

dropping little hints you should just say it and say it as forcefully as you feel it but yeah I'm not very good at it well will you let me know when you discover the secrets being less thin-skinned oh yeah that'd be incredibly helpful I will I wanted to ask you just quickly before we have to go but about your internet relationship because I know you've got disabling software to help you write is that right? I have yeah I have a little half hour window in the middle of the day when I'm allowed to look at the newspapers and Facebook I love being a writer I'm really grateful to be able to spend my days writing but it's impossible to do it for more than a few hours a day and you have to limit your choices you have to limit your

distractions because you do have to get it done. You have to limit your distractions because you do have to get it done. And so, yes, I have all these complicated internet blocking devices, which I'm also perfectly capable of overriding if I really want to. You know, I know the tricks and I hate myself for it, but I'm, you know, quite weak-willed. Again, this goes back to being thin-skinned, really. I mean, I'm not particularly active on the internet. And I wonder if I write another book, whether I'll have to change that. Because it's perfectly possible to have a Twitter account and not be a nervous wreck, isn't it?

I mean, is it? I think it is. It is, isn't it? It feels a bit silly that I can't handle that, to be honest. And I was very briefly on Twitter. I think the first day I had about, this was in the heyday of one day, so I could have built quite a large number of followers, I think, quite quickly.

But I had about 200 followers on Twitter after a couple of days. And I said, 200 followers, I'm the anti-Steven Fry. And someone said, why are you anti-Steven Fry? And I said, well, I'm not anti-Steven Fry. I mean, I'm the opposite of Steven Fry. And then someone said, I hate people who are rude about Steven Fry. Hashtag Steven Fry. And we were on a country walk somewhere.

And I found myself, I had to keep going off and standing, you know, in the shade of a tree to see whether Steven Fry was going to respond to my perfectly benign tweet about Stephen Fry. And shortly after that, I deleted my account because I thought I can't live like this. I'm a wreck and it's silly. But if I can get really powerful internet blocking software, then I might go back onto it. You know, you can mute people as well, but it's a handy tool. Yes, but it always feels rude to me. It's like turning your back on someone at a party.

But they don't know that you've greeted them. You're too nice for your own good. This is the thing. Well, I'll look into it. David Nicholls, thank you so much for talking so openly and eloquently about your not-so-myriad failures. But it's been a really delightful conversation. Thank you. Thank you very much.