On being ordinary

"I walk the dog. Cook with my family. I am boring.”

There’s a bit in Cat Cohen’s comedy show "Broad Strokes”—a show I saw at Edinburgh Fringe last year, about a stroke she had in her early 30s—where she shares a story about a casting director describing her as a “normal girl”. She is horrified by this! She sings beautifully about not wanting to be a Normal Girl. On stage, with a microphone, Cohen is dressed in a sequinned dress, cabaret-style—she is anything but ‘normal’.

As Catherine’s show goes on, we hear about her hospital stay, her health scare, her relationship, her dreams, and it turns out that, actually, just for a period of time she’d perhaps like to just be a Normal Girl. When life gets hard, it turns out all you really want is for life to be very ordinary.

Most people in the media, entertainment or showbiz usually don’t want to be normal. There is a fear around normality, or blending in. They make bold decisions, want to stand out, or even be embarrassed for the sake of their art, have a spotlight on them, anything to avoid being seen as normal.

For a long time, I didn’t want to be seen as ‘normal’ and certainly not, gasp, ‘basic’. I definitely had a fear around this. I didn’t want a boring, ordinary life. The idea of having an average life scared me—the idea of just having a middle-of-the-road experience. I didn’t (and still don’t) want to wear beige, for example. I found ‘normal’ things really dull, I hated going to the supermarket, hated restaurant chains, and didn’t like watching things like popular Saturday night gameshows. I’d rather be doing something, anything, that felt ‘different.’

Lately though, my day-to-day life has become increasingly ordinary. Maybe it’s getting older, and calmer. I’m simply not as busy as I used to be. I don’t go to many parties, or go on many short-haul trips. I just handed in my new book, A Creative Compass, and whenever I get a massive project off my desk, I’m usually twiddling my thumbs for a few weeks afterwards. Because it takes over my life, and then, poof, it’s gone, and I suddenly have an expanse of free time. So I’ve been going for walks in my local park, organising my cupboards, cleaning my fridge, refreshing my garden furniture, going to the big M&S, watching old re-runs of my favourite TV show, cooking basic meals, reading some books.

In a recent interview with Harry Styles for Runner’s World, Haruki Murakami talks about living an ordinary life. Yes, he happens to be one of the most famous novelists in the world, but, he says:

“I’m still an ordinary guy living an ordinary life with my wife and everything […] When I get interviewed, I sometimes feel awkward because why would an interviewer think that I’m special?”

He repeats a few times how he is just an “ordinary guy”.

“Bullshit,” a friend laughs when I read it out loud to them. “He is far from ordinary. The way he thinks, he is not ordinary. The way his brain works! He makes up such incredibly large worlds...”

“Okay, true, but apart from his novels, his life does sound pretty ordinary…” I reply. “He reads. He drinks tea. He runs. He goes to bed early…..”

His daily routine is repetitive, and Murakami has said that this repetition ‘mesmerises’ him in some deeper way:

“When I’m in writing mode for a novel, I get up and work for five to six hours. In the afternoon, I run or swim (or do both), then I read a bit and listen to some music. I go to bed at 9:00 pm. I keep to this routine every day without variation.” — The Marginalian

I think there is actually a link between the two. An ordinary daily life can also lead to creative thinking and relaxing the nervous system. I get lots of my ideas for books doing very, very ordinary things. Having a bath, having a shower, washing up, travelling in a car, going for a walk. When your life isn’t very dramatic, you have more space to think, dream, create.

There’s also a quote from Cillian Murphy, one of the best actors of our time, which keeps doing the rounds on social media:

“I like being at home. My life is very simple. I read a lot of books. I watch a lot of movies. Listen to a lot of music. Walk the dog. Cook with my family. I am boring.”

It’s hard to believe somehow—an Oscar-winning Hollywood actor is boring? Maybe we don’t want to believe it? That the person who worked on a huge, blockbusting, out-of-this-world film like Oppenheimer, is actually likely to just be walking his dog and sitting at home, and occasionally reading some scripts for work? Of course I do believe it. It makes sense. To do big things in your creative life, I think everyday life has to be quite small. Famously, in 2015, Adele said to Rolling Stone: “The bigger that your career gets, the smaller your life gets." I can easily imagine Adele pottering around the house in her comfies and slippers.

This isn’t even about needing to be extra-ordinary in your creativity or career. There is something powerful about celebrating the ordinary life full stop. The power of living an ordinary life, and noticing all the tiny ordinary things. Appreciating the ordinary parts of the day.

One of the most content people I know loves his ordinary life. He loves getting the bus to Aldi. He loves his garden, and all the surprising things that grow and pop up through the soil. He loves watching the same David Attenborough programmes on repeat. He loves eating a schedule of repeat things for each day of the week. He loves his family. He loves a cup of tea and (1) biscuit. He loves a good pub roast. He loves mending and repairing little things.

Sounds appealing, really, to live an ordinary life.
With, perhaps, an unpredictable sprinkling of the extraordinary.
Because I think life is made up of both.