Weekly updates with a prose and poetry focus
After posting yesternight’s entry about WordPress badges, I then received the one below for publishing ten consecutive posts at the same hour of the day.
By telling you about this at an unusual hour, I wonder whether this will, in turn, generate further badges. I’ll let you know either in a later entry, or the usual Tuesday update.
Four weeks ago, I received a notification from WordPress that I’d been awarded an Achievement called Palindrome Post. I’d never heard of such a thing, so I took a closer look.
This is given for a post with at least 100 words where the word count reads the same backwards as forwards. This could be 121, 1,221, 12,321 or a similar pattern. It was credited to the post A Fully-Booked Weekend.
And yet WordPress itself tells me that post is 267 words long. This doesn’t include the title nor tags, and the words in hyperlinks are also counted individually, so I’m not sure of the methodology used. That said, I was only vaguely aware of the achievements system before this, so it’s prompted me to look down the list.
The first two badges were all achieved within the first month of the blog’s life: 200 follows and 1337 Likes. But the wonky maths returned in January 2014 because I don’t understand how this – a weekly blog – could have earned the 500 posts badge.
And then more than a decade passed with nothing.
The next time I heard about the badges was on the 12th Anniversary of the blog in October 2025. I then received two awards on 26 May 2026: Globe Trotter for receiving views from 50+ different countries, and The Headliner for changing a post’s title five or more times before publishing. I’m surprised I took so long to achieve that last one, since the title often goes through a few drafts.
But what about the badges I haven’t yet achieved?
With my predictable Tuesday night update schedule, I know I won’t achieve some of them, including Night Owl for posting between midnight and 5am, nor Early Bird for posting between 5am and 8am. I’m also unlikely to be a Marathon Blogger, publishing for 30 days in a row, and definitely no Dear Diary for posting every day for a whole year.
But there are some within my grasp. I’ll win the Daily Reader badge if I visit the Reader page for 30 days in a row, or Ship It! if I publish a post very quickly with no overthinking allowed; again, I’m surprised this hasn’t yet happened, considering the number of last-minute entries. I’m also in danger of triggering Necromancer for publishing a draft that’s been gathering dust for over a year.
Looking into the future, I won’t achieve Novelist unless I wait a long while or seriously increase the length of my entries. Unbelievably, I’ve written less than 4,000 words across all my entries out of the required 50,000. I also won’t see Leap of Faith until 2028, as I hope to be posting on Tuesday 29 February.
Peppered in between the visible achievements are a list of secret achievements. I’m not opposed to surprises per se, but I think it’s unfair to hide these rather than encourage users to work towards them.
Fortunately, one user has listed a few more that I didn’t know about, so I can use that as a starting point. Perhaps the real achievement is simply remembering this little system still quietly exists in the background..
Last Tuesday, just as my scheduled post was ready to go, I received an email saying that someone had recommended my blog. So a big shout-out to to The Threaded Shillelaugeh for doing so.
I must confess that I rarely venture onto my Reading feed, although I do receive email notifications when certain accounts create a new post. I’ve now saved my Reading and Subscriptions pages prominently on my Favourites bar. I first need to weed out the inactive profiles, and I”ve already jettisoned an overactive account that posted every few hours and dominated the feed.
But there’s another reason I haven’t been reading as much lately, and that’s because I’m currently going through the most productive period of writing I’ve experienced in a long time. I’ve reached the point where I’ve been writing deep into the night, which is highly unusual for me. Thursday was my longest session; I was up until 3am, and I only canned it because I was exhausted and needed to work the following morning. I was nowhere near finished the text.
To find the last time the words flowed so freely, I need to go back to my earlier attempts at the now-defunct National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, where the challenge was to write 50,000 words in a month. That said, I’ve discovered I write best when I do it episodically because my natural concluding point is in the region of 2,000 words.
I was already penning my fourth story in a nine-part series, and then an idea struck for an extra chapter of an existing 25-part series. The first in the series was intended as a one-off, then I thought it wouldn’t have more than four parts, and then I declared it would wrap up around 20 parts, and I’ve shot past that.
Because it features an ensemble cast, it’s proving easy to think of new plot points related to the central premise. So easy, in fact, that I’ve around 3,500 words, which is already double my normal stopping point – and there’s much more to follow. Fortunately, there’s a natural cliffhanger in the plot to keep readers gripped until the 27th chapter, which I fully expect to contain another 3,500 words.
With that series, I’ve had to make up a retrospective notes document to keep the main action consistent.
A few days ago, for instance, I thought one character was four years older than another, when she’s actually six years older. In another case, I forgot whether two other characters had been given a surname. This is published on a writing website, so I’ve now asked my fellow writers whether they recall one being given.
With the newer series, I’ve made a point of creating that notes document early, which has been a terrific move.
I don’t know exactly how I’ll feel once this writing kick is over, but I expect I’ll start going to bed at a reasonable hour again.
A number of factors came together yesterweek, including scheduling problems and technical problems, which meant I couldn’t bring you a full entry. In the short explanatory note, I mentioned there were three possible topics I could cover. During the intervening period, however, I’ve added another one to this list, and it’s that I’m covering today.
The horror film Backrooms was released into cinemas at the tail end of May, and I had a chance to see it on Wednesday of last week. The director Kane Parsons didn’t come up with the central idea, but used the existing concept from popular culture. He’s previously expanded upon it with a series of short films available on YouTube.
In short, the eponymous backrooms are an endless maze of empty rooms and partitions that resemble an office or storage space, often illuminated by harsh lighting and decorated in shades of yellow. The architecture is largely stable, so any character who goes through an entrance can typically return to the previous room, and objects can be carried in and out.
The limitability of the place also frequently reminds people of a real-life place they’ve been before. In my case, my dad used to have a hair salon in the basement of a bank, which was accessed by a long staircase. Fluorescent lighting was a necessity, since there wasn’t so much as a window at street level. I also remember an unfinished section that looked onto bare rock; I called it the dungeon.
But I’m going off the point somewhat, as this blog is about writing, not art. In the film, the setting is front and centre of the whole narrative, so I was interested to see how it was described in the script. I expected there would be a leaked copy of the screenplay going about. Instead, I can only find a minimalist rendering that strips out everything but the dialogue, making it no help at all.
Nonetheless, I liked that the sets are varied, but there are no contrived traps for the characters. They’re often free to leave at any time, provided they know which corner to turn and if they can outrun anything that’s chasing them. It also steers clear of parodying films with similar characteristics, such as The Shining, The Blair Witch Project or Being John Malkovich.
Considering the practical sets built for the occasion, it’s remarkable this was delivered with a budget of $10 million, which is low-budget in Hollywood terms. Yet there is one other film around at the moment with even tighter purse-strings.
If $10 million is low-budget, then the $750,000 to shoot Obsession is practically pocket change. There are some parallels: this is also a horror, and its writer-and-director Curry Barker also started on YouTube. From here, however, it travels in its own direction, following a more conventional path with storytelling and gore at its centre.
It may be a coincidence that these two directors have come from a similar background to release low-budget horror films in the same month.
Equally, it might also be the beginnings of a trend where we see ideas transfer more readily from the computer screen to the cinema screen. If so, we must also brace ourselves for a hundred photocopies of Backrooms, or narratives just different enough not to tread on the toes of Obsession.
My schedule and my technology has been against me for the last few days. It’s frustrating because I have three possible topics I could cover, but I’m unable to explore any of them.
Instead, I’ll be back next week with a full entry.
At the beginning of the year, I briefly considered devoting the last entry of each month to a review of a different programme from BBC Sounds. I listen to a lot of their audio comedy and drama, so it seemed like a workable idea at the time.
I abandoned the plan soon after, however, and there are a few reasons behind that decision. The saved draft from 19 January 2026 included a list of the shows I thought I might cover. Here they are in the order they were written down:
The list also illustrates the first problem with the idea: whatever I reviewed would need to be available at the time. Like most streaming platforms, BBC Sounds removes programmes after a set period.
The entries with links were still active at the time of writing this entry, so if I’d decided in January that the topic for May would be Clare in the Community, readers wouldn’t be able to listen for themselves.
Which brings me to the second factor behind the abandonment: how much time I have available to review them.
When I listened to each of these programmes for the first time, it was on an informal basis where I wasn’t necessarily taking in every word but gaining a general sense of the plot. By contrast, an effective review needs active listening, for which I would need to go back and take notes. Fukushima, for instance, contains more than three hours of script, time I doubt I would be able to spare.
When I was studying for my M.Litt Writing Practice & Study degree, I was roped into writing three book reviews for the university magazine. I say three, but for one of these, I’d written the review before the tutor told me she’d only lent me the book for interest; it was still accepted for publication, so my effort wasn’t wasted. It was rewarding to see the finished product, but there was so much input for an article that took five minutes to read.
My third and final reason is the most detailed one.
Let me take you back to a banner advert I used to encounter on the Internet in the 1990s. The headline was Tired of seeing movies based on one guy’s opinion? I’ve long forgotten the name of the service, but it would have been an early aggregator for audience reviews.
At the time, I thought this was a fantastic idea. If I was unsure about Titanic or The Matrix, then instead of relying on the film review in the paper, I could see what others thought before buying a ticket.
But with the crowd-as-reviewer model now the more dominant one, I can see the flaw in hindsight. That one guy, as they put it, generally understood structure, nuance and how to convey this to readers. He was worth a dozen armchair critics who instead based their reviews on the attractiveness of Kate Winslet or had a bee in their bonnet about the science of the titular Matrix.
As such, I asked myself whether we really need any more reviews, albeit in a more niche art-form than cinema. Taken with the other two reasons, my answer – at least for the moment – is in the negative.
I’ve been using the free tier of Grammarly since 2017, but I’d disabled the extension in Firefox.
This was primarily because my old computer didn’t have enough RAM and couldn’t easily handle the extra work. Even once I invested in upgrading the memory, I simply didn’t think to turn it on again.
So for a long time now, I’ve been writing these entries without the aid of a spell-checker, and that’s led to a few errors that weren’t picked up manually.
Last week, I decided to switch it back on, and I was quickly reminded of the other reasons I’d disabled it.
When a suggestion box appeared underneath the text, like correcting suggesiton to suggestion, I found this useful.
But Grammarly also constantly pushed its Pro membership level through these boxes. The software was set up to reveal only a few advanced suggestions per day before blanking them out and telling the user to upgrade.
I found those few advanced suggestions would amount to little more than a find-and-replace with a thesaurus; found might be changed to discovered, or stay to remain. There appeared to be no way to switch these off or even to snooze them for a fixed period
I’ve been writing long enough to know I need a strong spell-checker but a low-level grammar checker that only looks for obvious errors like should of rather than should have.
Grammarly was already beginning to bloat with features even in 2017 and this has only continued to grow. It must be stated, however, that’s far from exclusive to this software, and there are writers who will benefit from that Pro level subscription. I’m simply not one of them.
After closing my account, it was time to take advantage of the spell-checker built into Firefox. By adding a third-party dictionary to ensure all words belonged in British English, I’ve been able to catch the majority of errors without the need for further suggestions.
About a month ago, I mentioned I was gearing up to visit the StAnza poetry festival in St Andrews. That took place from Friday to Sunday.
I’d booked two events in advance. The first was a virtual writing hour with Fife Writes during Friday lunchtime, so I was able to take part remotely. The other was a poetry walk along the coast on Saturday morning where we stopped every few minutes to hear a related verse.
I’d left a lot of slack time while the rest of the weekend came together. For example, one of the volunteers wanted to speak with me about a new spoken-word event she was setting up, but our schedules didn’t match up, even for a quick conversation.
However, I was able to catch up with a pal who lives in the town. We generally only see each other around once a year. He’d booked a Kate Ireland show for Saturday afternoon, so I followed suit. At the last minute, that was cancelled and replaced with an event by Dean Tsang, who chose the order of his poems using a spinning wheel. I enjoyed that a lot, probably more than I would have enjoyed the expected show.
I go back year after year because it’s a small festival with an ever-present sense of poets coming together to read and write poetry. I can only identify one area of criticism, around pricing, and I’ve said as much in my feedback form.
I understand the aim of their ‘pay what you can’ model to make it accessible to everyone, which comprises a range of up to four price points that could be £5, £10, £15 and £20. I find this to be too much choice. I’d prefer to see just one or two options: (1) the break‑even cost with a surplus, and/or (2) a concession rate. Additionally, that would give me a clearer sense of what the event actually costs to run.
The feedback forms normally include a section where you can specify how much you spent on travel, accommodation, food and drink. I’d kept a careful tally, but that section was missing this year.
For the first time since before the pandemic, I stayed overnight in St Andrews, partly so I could go to shows later at night. I ultimately didn’t go to other events because the times were awkward, but I did nosey around Toppings bookshop before heading to bed at a reasonable time.
There was one other reason I stayed overnight. In August, I’m taking part in a charity Kiltwalk, and the aim is to walk from St Andrews to Dundee via Tentsmuir forest. While I do walk long distances regularly, this is an especially long route, so I need to go on some training walks.
That was the second one I’ve done so for. Every time, I’m learning the best way to prepare and – importantly – what not to do.
Other than the actual writing, there is another basic skill required from a writer, and that’s to look over back over the words at a later stage to ensure they have the intended meaning.
It can be tempting to edit immediately. With the exception of the most obvious errors, however, I advise against this. Proofreading and subsequent editing is best done cold, as if seeing the text for the first time. It’s also a good idea to keep Track Changes turned on during this time.
But what if you have a piece you need to finish? Below are three tips that have helped me.
1: Leaving enough time
My guideline is to leave the text aside for a minimum of one minute per word, or for 24 hours, whichever is longer. So a villanelle might be left 24 hours on account of its brevity, whereas a 4000-word story might be picked up again in around three days’ time.
I would not be offended if anyone picked up this formula and publicised it as ‘Cameron’s Rule’, or suchlike.
2: Changing the typeface
After reading and reading the same text over again, the words sometimes merge together. One way to counteract this is by changing the text to a completely different typeface and/or the colour of the text. Have a rake through the ones available on your machine and find a legible one in a different style.
If you prefer to make your first draft by hand, you’re already at an advantage when you transfer it to a computer. The same text can look different on a screen. I find I can write what seems like a long paragraph by hand but it seems shorter when viewed in type.
3. Ask someone else to read over it
This method comes with some risk, especially if you’re in a hurry. What if the other person fails to reply? What if it requires a detailed rewrite?
The trade-off is that it’s a often reliable gauge of how readers might view the piece. I’ve sometimes heard back from folks that some content needs to be explained more, or occasionally that they grasped the concept and the words can be cut back.
However, you choose to do it, it’s worth investing the time. You don’t want to find an error once you’ve had 1,000 copies printed.
When I update this blog, I aim to stick with one topic throughout. But I hope you’ll indulge me just this once as I follow up last week’s entry about copyright and the public domain, and then follow up with the planned topic.
Copyright caveats
A few days after I posted my entry, the YouTube producer Chris Spargo released a relevant video, exploring a section of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 that I didn’t know about.
In 1929, J M Barrie granted the rights of his play Peter Pan to Great Ormond Street Hospital so they would benefit financially from its every performance. Although the play fell into the public domain in 1987, this arrangement was specifically written into legislation to make sure it continued in perpetuity – or at least until it’s repealed.
For the avoidance of doubt, the hospital has no creative control over the use of the play and can’t prevent performances from going ahead. It can only collect fees from any performance that is staged.
Disconnection doldrums
It was fortunate you were able to see last week’s entry. Where possible, I like to have at least a draft lined up 24 hours in advance. I can then tinker with the text just before publication at 7:30pm on a Tuesday, which coincides with a weekly writing group.
The staff are very accommodating in the pub where we meet. Probably the only criticism is something outside their control. Because the place was a cinema until 1998, it still has thick soundproof walls that also interfere with Wi-Fi and mobile phone reception.
Often we manage a weak but stable connection with a combination of our own hotspots and the pub Wi-Fi. But on Tuesday of last week, we were out of luck, no matter what we tried. So we stopped the in-person session and moved to the house of the other group leader. Once online, we were able to keep the members of our Discord server informed about what had happened.
One of the strengths of the weekly two-hour meeting is having that ringfenced time either to write or to carry out administration. For example, I picked up an overdue task about transferring my Web domain and hosting to a new plan, as the one I used was being phased out.
This then led me down a path of ‘Do I really need [insert feature]?’ and ‘What if I do away with that email address?’ It took a few days, but I’m pleased to report that the transfer was smooth, so this site stayed online.
In fact, the other group leader and I occasionally schedule admin days where we can make desicions about the direction of the group and/or solve ongoing problems. These are always deliberately held on a non-meeting day and in a different location.
This week, I’ve taken extra time to prepare. I drafted this entry on Sunday night, and made amendments yesterday, so it’ll almost certainly be in the can and ready to go at the appointed time.
Gavin Cameron 