Writing Just Enough

As writers, I think we’ve all had the experience of starting a poem or a story with a great idea, but it fails because there simply isn’t enough material to sustain a complete story.

I remember one instance when I was invited to write a poem inspired by a botanic garden. I was particularly taken by a species of tree where the seed is sealed with a natural glue that can only be opened when it melts with heat. As such, in a natural environment, it requires a forest fire to reproduce. Despite writing many lines to this effect, I found only the first two and last two were strong candidates, so the end piece was much shorter than expected, but much punchier as well.

I’ve also experienced the opposite effect at least once. I set out to write a little joke for my online pals about how YouTube videos used to be sent out to customers by post. The fictional history of the company became so detailed that I eventually turned it into a 2,000-word short story.

The same unpredictability also happens in non-fiction. The Wikipedia page for Kirkton, Dundee is relatively short because it’s mainly a residential area, albeit with four schools and excellent transport links. On the other hand, the riot that erupted there at Hallowe’en in 2022 is given a separate page that’s around twice as long as the main article, simply because there is so much to be written about the incident.

Having written this blog for a decade now, I can generally predict how long my entries will be. Something else will occasionally occur to me while writing that extends their length. Every so often, I’ll run out of steam, leaving me with a draft entry that goes nowhere.

As these drafts are beginning to build up again, I’m going to see whether I can revisit them and add enough to create a fully-fledged topic.

Typing as Fast as You Can Speak

A typical computer uses a standard keyboard with more than 100 buttons. Many of these will have a secondary function, activated by modifiers such as Shift and Ctrl modifiers. This is more than enough to encode the entire alphabet in upper- and lowercase, numbers 0 to 9, a selection of everyday symbols, and common functions that interact with the operating system.

On the other hand, a stenotype machine has less than 25 buttons, which is not enough for all the letters of the English alphabet, never mind the numbers and punctuation marks. This is because the operator is more interested in the sound of a word than the spelling, and it allows a speed of more than 200 words per minute while moving the hands as little as possible.

Incidentally, the one punctuation mark on the device is an asterisk, used to mark corrections. In some messaging applications, where messages can’t be recalled, users will typically type an asterisk underneath, followed by the corrected word underneath.

However, the stenotype is now decades old and technology has now moved beyond that. Below is a video about live subtitling for proceedings in Parliament.

A video hosted on YouTube with an overview of how subtitles are produced for Parliamentary sessions.

In this application, voice recognition is used. However, it’s far easier to program a computer to understand just one voice instead of many, so an operator listens through headphones to the words spoken on TV and repeats them.

You’ll notice from the video that the operator speaks in something of a monotone regardless of how passionate the MPs are feeling, and this helps the software to provide a consistent result. Punctuation also needs to be added manually, not to mention switching between different people; colour codes are often used to help viewers work out which person said what.

Such software is also available for home users. For a period when I had RSI, I used Dragon NaturallySpeaking to give my fingers a rest. It worked to a high standard, I found, even straight out of the box and with a Scottish accent. However, it produces its best results when connected to the Internet, as it can benefit from deep learning techniques. If it can’t, the audio is processed locally and there’s a noticeable decrease in quality.

Helping Novelists Through November

National Novel Writing Month is a not-for-profit initiative that encourages people to draft a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. In 2023, NaNoWriMo – as it’s affectionately known – celebrates its 25th anniversary

As the organisation operates globally, it relies on hundreds of volunteer co-ordinators around the world to welcome members, arrange meet-ups and raise donations. After joining the Dundee & Angus region as a punter in 2010, I’ve been running it since 2015.

During my time in charge, we’ve started additional weekly meetings during the rest of the year. As such, I like to have a co-organiser to help with tasks such as sending out bulletins, reorganising our Discord server, and covering for each other if we’re busy on a given week.

Even with this, November still remains our busiest month ahead of the novel-writing. By tradition, we organise a launch party in October, a Thank Goodness It’s Over party in December, and an additional weekly meeting on each Saturdays in November.

From our members’ point of view, NaNoWriMo will start on Wednesday 1 November. For us, those conversations need to start right now, and that’s what we’ll be doing over the next four weeks.

Writing Clear Instructions

Back in May, I started running a new writing class called Placing Your Mark.

Unlike the other events I run, where the members bring their existing projects, this one is actively geared towards creating new work. The format has now settled down to include regular features such as writing a passage containing five given words, starting with a line taken from a novel, or inspired by picking a card at random.

When I’m writing these prompts, I do it by myself and it’s difficult to tell how well they’ll be understood.

For example, there is always a break halfway through, during which I produce an object and ask the members to muse upon it and write a piece inspired by it. I initially thought I was making the intention clear: a ten-minute break, followed by five minutes of writing. After trialling the feature and finding members were confused, I rewrote the instructions to make it clearer.

Other prompts don’t fly as well as I’d hoped. A few of these have involved an office setting, which frequently has a power structure and is ripe for conflict. However, some members have had difficulty relating to this because they haven’t worked in that type of environment.

Based on this feedback, I’ve had less of a problem with prompts that don’t work. It’s just as well because we’re now into the third block of four sessions, with possibly enough interest for a future block, and that means I need to write even more of them.

The Poetry of JavaScript

Despite our social media presence, a sizeable chunk of our Hotchpotch open-mic members still rely on our email bulletin. Almost exactly a year ago, I started the task of building up a new distribution list after the collapse of the old system. Here’s the story of what’s happened since.

After emailing everyone on the list individually, many people wanted to stay on it, a lot wished to stop receiving bulletins, and several never responded at all. The initial technical hiccups have long been ironed out and the number of subscribers almost doubled from 34 to 63 over the past 12 months.

The old list was not compliant with GDPR regulations, so it was important to ensure the new one was up to scratch, and that includes the ability to unsubscribe at any time. The easiest way is to have a public Web page with this functionality.

As we now had a basic website, there was an opportunity to publish more information there, such as our meeting times and standards of behaviour.

When I started this endeavour, I would copy open-source templates and simply strip out any unnecessary sections. One principle I like to follow is what YouTube creator Tom Scott calls the art of the bodge: cobbling together just enough code to do what you need it to, making refinements as you go along.

After a while of doing this, I slowly began to refresh and update my knowledge of HTML. Alongside that, I learned when and how to deploy CSS and JavaScript. The last time I dabbled in coding was many years ago before such elements were commonplace.

Perhaps I’ve been influenced by writing verse for so many years, but I can see a correlation between writing poetry and writing computer code. Every word has to be precisely the right one, each section is demarcated by curly brackets into its own ‘stanza’, and a detail as small as an incorrect line break can change how it’s interpreted.

But unless something in this current system breaks and has to be recoded, I”m leaving it alone, however poetic it reads.

Pen at Work

Two weeks ago, I spoke about seeing a one-woman monologue at the Edinburgh Fringe. It particularly appealed to me because I’d previously written my own play with a similar theme and presentation.

With the festivals now over for another year, my attention has turned to giving my own work its first major rewrite for some time, including a new snappier title.

In particular, the main character has always been an English literature student who keeps a video diary I changed the subject to a music and video production course, giving her more reason to use a camcorder. I’ve also restructured the narrative to include self-interruptions where she looks back at her student days from 15 years in the future.

If I really give the piece my attention, it should be roughly redrafted by next week, and then I need to start reshaping it neatly into its new form.

The Satisfaction Line vs the Finish Line

At the weekend, I was talking with other writers, which led to a discussion about narrative structure.

Unlike a theatre or film script, there is no standard or accepted narrative structure for a short story. While this can be freeing for an author, my experience also tells me it can lead to a disappointing story without a decent resolution. I’ve had some difficulty articulating exactly what makes a satisfying story, but I’m working on a way of explaining it.

Bear in mind that I’m still working out some details of this metaphor, but below are my initial thoughts.

I’ve started thinking of a story as having two endings. The first ending is where the author stops the narrative. The second ending is the point at which the reader feels satisfied; this will vary from person to person, of course. That second ending is the Satisfaction Line.

Ideally, the Satisfaction Line should come before the end of the narrative, as close as possible, but never after it. Note that the two examples I’m about to give both happen to come from The New Yorker, and the website often arbitrarily says you can’t read any more articles without paying.

The first one is The Lottery by Shirley Jackson. For me, the Satisfaction Line comes a few paragraphs before the end. Structurally, it’s one of my favourite short stories.

The second example is the notorious Cat Person by Kristen Roupenian from 2017. The story ends with a string of phone messages, which I found vaguely threatening but hardly a resolution. My own Satisfaction Line might have been crossed if the author had continued to a more dramatic ending.

I’m going to park this thought for the moment with the intention of returning at some point in the future, however distant.

Skip to Next Week

I have half an entry written, with the intention of finishing it this afternoon. Unfortunately, something unexpected has arisen today, so there won’t be a complete entry.

Instead, I aim to have that draft completed by next Tuesday.

Using the Correct Template

Every month, I attend a poetry circle where each member writes a piece to be discussed at the next meeting.

When I submit work, I generally place it on the same template, in Courier New font, leaving room at the top for my name, address and line count. This month, I decided to deviate from the format.

I used the confrontation between Craig Phillips and Nick Bateman in Series 1 of Big Brother as inspiration for the poem in question. As such, the piece needed to be laid out in a way that suggested a relentless pace.

The most obvious step was to write the text in a column with no more than four words per line. I then changed the typeface. Some experimentation found Bahnschrift SemiBold Condensed to be most suitable, as it’s narrow but still chunky enough to read comfortably. I don’t particularly like centred justification as it’s more difficult for the eye to follow it down. As a compromise, I adjusted the left-hand indent to around 85mm from the edge of the page, placing the text roughly down the centre line.

The two templates above are merely examples. There are countless variations available online, each with their own benefits and pitfalls. The most important factor is to decide which one is suitable for your purposes.

When sending work to a publisher, this will be dictated by the submission guidelines. Yes, these can be annoying to follow, but a consistent format ensures the editors know exactly where to look. So pick your template wisely.

Timing is Everything

Regular readers will know it’s no secret that I don’t make a full-time living from writing. I have an office job as my main income.

When I moved to my current job, I found out there was someone who knows me through one of my writing groups, so we always chat in the canteen. After a while, I realised I only ever saw him in the canteen and never the wider office. I jokingly asked him last week, ‘Do you actually have a desk, or do you just work in here?’

He explained that he uses the Pomodoro method, which involves working on an activity for 25 minutes, then taking a five-minute break. It was developed by Francesco Cirillo, who named it after the Italian word for ‘tomato’ because that was the shape of his timer.

In the case of my colleague, he goes for a cup of tea during each break. It might work well in his role, but I don’t know how I would adapt it to mine.

Outside of the office, though, it’s a technique I use when I want to focus on a piece of writing. It must be stated that 25 minutes isn’t quite long enough for me, so I prefer the double Pomodoro method: 50 minutes of activity and a 10-minute break.

There are also plenty of alternatives to using a kitchen timer, such as a background noise generator that can simulate rainfall for as long as you like.