Notes of Note

Jack Kerouac wrote his novel On the Road in the era of the typewriter. The trouble was that had a story to tell and didn’t want to be interrupted every five minutes to replace the sheet of paper.

His solution was to buy a roll of teletype paper, giving 120 feet of paper in a continuous scroll. That’s the equivalent length of approximately 123 sheets of A4. The novel was reportedly written in three weeks while his wife supplied him with coffee and Benzedrine.

The entire scroll was displayed at the British Museum in 2012. Had it been written today, he likely would have used a computer, robbing popular culture of this artefact.

I’m reminded of this stream-of-consciousness approach as I look at a Simplenote entry I’ve had for the past two weeks or so. Coming home from a poetry gig, I thought of a few lines of verse, adding a few more lines shortly afterwards. Then yesternight, I added a lot more lines, with only minimal editing.

In terms of plot structure, it’s very disjointed and I don’t intend to resolve this. I’m also satisfied with the opening lines and the closing lines, yet I feel it needs something more in the middle to bulk it up from the 23 lines it currently contains and I can’t tell yet what its final form is likely to be.

While it’s unlikely this short note will end up like On the Road, I do have one precedent for a project that grew out of all recognition. I started off writing a one-line gag about how we fictionally used to order YouTube videos by post. By the time I’d finished editing, it had ended up as a short story with more than 1,700 words.

Second Chance Sales

Over the years, I’ve amassed a lot of novels and poetry collections. Some of them have been finished and enjoyed, while I’m never reasonably likely to read the others, so it was time to clear out most of my shelves.

After letting my pals have the first pick of the collection, I then sent ten of the remainder to Music Magpie for instant cash. I could have sent fifty, but I was only offered pennies for some of them, giving me much more hassle for a relatively low payout. Additionally, some of the books were signed and/or personalised, so I’ve divided the rest between charity shops and eBay.

During this process, I wondered how published authors feel about seeing their books in second-hand shops, so I decided to throw out a question to them. Of my dozen or so sample size, it seems the overwhelming majority wouldn’t mind this at all. Typical reasons included:

  • Their words were accessible to people who might not have bought them otherwise.
  • They liked the idea of their books being spread more widely than the first recipient.
  • Charities receive the benefit from the sale of donated books.
  • It is simply part of the ‘circle of books’.

Honourable mentions go to two parties. The first is the author who sometimes leaves a secret note for the next person who picks up the book. The second is to Gutter Magazine. It has become a running joke in their office that at any given moment, a certain Oxfam bookshop has at least five copies for sale. They added that many of their issues sell out, so it was lovely to see them ‘in the wild’ once again.

I also had a book written by the grandfather of a former colleague about travelling to Hong Kong. She’d originally lent it to me for taking on a railway journey, but I didn’t manage to read it After a four-year gap, it has now been returned.

How to Collect Secondary Royalties

Even in the writing community, it’s not widely known that published writers might be entitled to secondary royalties. These are generated when a work is lent, copied, rebroadcast, &c. Not only that, it’s simple to register for collection.

Firstly, you’ll need the ISBN and/or other details of the publications where your work appears. Then sign up for the Authors’ Licensing and Collecting Society (ALCS) and follow the instructions. Lifetime membership is £36, which is deducted from your first royalties payment so you pay nothing upfront.

There are two payouts per year: in March and September. Writers might be paid in one or both of these, depending on what types of payments have been received. The amounts you receive are never a fortune, but just enough to acknowledge the use of your work.

When I received my payment last week, it was £93.88, with most of that coming from UK fees, but some from EU and non-EU sources. I currently have six works registered, dating back to 2016.

I can’t find a breakdown of the exact amount contributed by each work, but judging by the pattern of payments, it’s a safe bet to assume the more recent ones are higher earners, and I’m quite happy about that.

That latest work was an anthology that took more than two years from the first meeting to the final publication, featuring a number of local poets and photographers. We knew from the start there would be no payment because it was for charity, but we had been promised a complimentary contributor’s copy.

It then emerged that the committee had decided not to offer this. I still have the chain of angry and disappointed emails. Some of the writers offered potential compromises or solutions, but the issue was never resolved and most of us refused to buy a copy.

So although the amount isn’t great, I’ve earned enough from my contribution to buy several copies, even though I still wouldn’t.

Where to Start?

I’m attempting to write the 22nd instalment of a short story series. It was supposed to be a one-off piece, so to reach this point is a tremendous achievement. But because of the existing body of work, this plot in this part has to be consistent with the rest. It therefore needs to include two particular elements:

  • A small piece of wrap-up from the previous story.
  • A scene where one of the characters makes amends with the rest of the group.

The trouble is that these elements need quite a bit of explanation. They’re slowing down the plot, even when I start in the middle of the action and refer back to them. At this stage, I might have to take the story in a different direction, as long as it fits with what’s gone before.

The good part is that there’s no particular deadline for this piece of work. It’s for a private group and I’m under no obligation to write anything. In this case, however, a deadline might be useful to focus my thoughts. Maybe I can impose one on myself and come up with a workable solution.

‘Those expressions are omitted…’

The major literary news story of the week was an announcement that Puffin Books would revise selected passages in new editions of books by Roald Dahl. The Telegraph provides a decent background of the reaction this has provoked.

One word that keeps cropping up is bowdlerising, a reference to Thomas Bowdler. Beginning in 1807, he produced a series of books titled The Family Shakspeare [sic] that removed what he considered to be improper language. The title page claimed: ‘Nothing is added to the original text; but those words and expressions are omitted which cannot with propriety be read aloud in a family.’

It is also known that his sister Henrietta started the project and contributed to the subsequent volumes, although it’s not clear how evenly the work was split.

While the public largely agreed with the changes during its first hundred years, attitudes had changed by the early 20th century. This is when the verb to bowdlerise gained its modern meaning of making overzealous edits.

In the case of Dahl, I think the situation could have been approached differently. Perhaps a newly-written foreword to explain the historical context would have been more appropriate to help young readers understand the language choices.

However, it’s clear that Puffin is banking on solid sales, as hundreds of hours and thousands of pounds must have been spent on the changes. It remains to be seen in the long run whether the readers of the future agree that the text has been bowdlerised.

At the time

Cataloguing the Uncatalogued

For the last eight years or so, I’ve run my monthly open-mic singlehandedly. However, our collaborations during 2022 showed me the group was becoming unwieldy to manage alone.

So at the next event tomorrow, we’ll introduce our first co-host. Having already briefed her about the help we need, such as welcoming readers while I set up the equipment, I started to compose a short document to explain the role in more detail.

This short document quickly expanded to a long one, becoming a chronological checklist of the entire evening from start to finish. Much of the content is based upon years of personal experience and best practice. But almost none of it had been formally recorded before because there was never a pressing need.

I’ll give the document to my co-host tonight or tomorrow, although it’s still the first version and could do with some refining. Once it’s more robust, it’ll serve as a template in case she or anyone else needs to cover for me in the future.

Uninspiring Prompts

I’m in a monthly poetry circle where we write a new poem each month. There is always a prompt to help with inspiration, but there’s no obligation to follow it.

For this month, it was suggested we write about public art. I thought this would be a simple task, as I live five minutes away from three separate sculptures on the same piece of land: one is a spiral, another is a vertical zig-zag, and the third is in the shape of a large egg.

I instead spent days trying to be inspired by one or more of these pieces. I tried rhyming poetry, free verse, a self-referential style, and a critical style, yet nothing was working. I eventually figured out the problem. I needed context for these sculptures, but there is absolutely none, not even a sign with a title or something about the artist. Without this background information, I found myself unable to engage.

Instead, I walked a few minutes up the road to a mural painted last year. It spans the height of a six-storey building, is attributed to a particular artist and there is background information available online. That poem took less than an hour to write and I’m more satisfied with it than any of my previous drafts.

There is no telling what’s going to be a prompt for your next poem, but if something isn’t working for you, there’s no shame in moving on to something else that does inspire you.

Submit Early for Christmas

If you’ve never had work published before, it’s easy to imagine it’s a quick process. You send in your story, the editor gives it the thumbs-up, and then it appears in the next edition. On the contrary, the process can be tremendously slow, even in this fast-paced age.

For articles, a useful rule of thumb is to think six months in advance of publication. Magazines are full of Christmas features right now, but many of these would have been planned since July or August. Conversely, this is the time to submit pieces about relaxing sun-drenched locations, what to do during the school summer holiday, &c.

And the lengthier the work, the longer that timeline will be. For a novel, the wait could be up to two years, according to one source.

One way to shorten the time is by self-publishing. It’s entirely possible to finish writing a piece one day and then make it available online the next. But when you do this, there is the potential to cut out the steps that make a finished piece look polished. This includes tasks such as editing, proofreading, cover design and – in the case of non-fiction – fact-checking.

I know few people want to think about winter when it’s still the middle of summer, but from a publishing point of view, it’s the perfect time.

Falling Foul of the Censors

Last week, I was reminded of a case involving the Obscene Publications Act 1959. Many people associate it with the 1960 trial of Penguin Books for publishing Lady Chatterley’s Lover, but there have been a few notable trials since.

The one I’ll focus on here dates from 2009. It involved a blogger called Darryn Walker, writing a sadistic fantasy story involving the members of Girls Aloud. This was notable because it was the first time the Act had been used for written material since 1991, and the first time it had been invoked in the Internet age.

If you want to read the story, which was written under a pen name, Girls (Scream) Aloud has been archived. You are warned it's not safe for work.

I read it myself at the time of the case. My personal view, then and now, is that the story might be in bad taste but hardly worthy of a criminal trial. In any case, Walker was ultimately cleared of the charges after evidence from an IT expert. In fact, I can’t find an example of a successful conviction for purely text material.

At present, it seems most writers published in the UK will never need to worry about falling foul of the Act. But in the years since the Walker case, much more material has gone online and it’s worth considering whether we might see more convictions in the future.

Expelling the Exposition

Last week, I was inspired to write a short story, but it needed a lot of background information to be included before the action happened. As I was planning it out, though, I couldn’t figure out how to explain it without boring the reader.

In the years I’ve been writing, one technique I’ve found to work is simply to write the story, exposition and all. Afterwards, it’s usually a case of taking a step back and trying to carve out a structure from what’s on the page.

In this case, I had a character that should have arrived at a place by 6pm and was uncontactable by phone until 8pm before finally showing up at 9:30pm. I initially had the action take place at 8pm, with the characters holding a conversation between that time and 9:30pm.

Looking back over what I’d written, I realised I could dispense with the 8pm call and set the action nearer 9:30pm. That had the effect of both reducing the explanation and intensifying the surprise as the arrival was now completely unexpected. I also placed much of the exposition into dialogue instead of descriptive paragraphs.

That meant I could start the action earlier and it took off with gusto. I wrote so much that I was able to split the narrative, with a cliffhanger between the two parts.