What You Can Do in Five Minutes

A few months ago, my co-host and I reluctantly reduced the length of slots at our Hotchpotch open-mic event to five minutes. This was a combination of the sheer popularity of the night and because we now need to finish our events by 9pm. We previously had seven-minute slots, which were themselves introduced after ten-minute slots became too long.

After a three-month trial, we’ve decided to keep the five-minute slots. However, if we can find a way to restore more time in the future, we’ll do it.

During those three months, and entirely by coincidence, a writer posted a message in a discussion group asking where fellow prose writers could be found. The previous evening, she’d been to another open-mic where every other participant had read out poetry.

Thinking back on Hotchpotch, we did once have more short story writers than poets. I can see a strong correlation between the time available and the type of work being heard at these events. Ten minutes is long enough to read 1,000 to 1,500 words, which is the typical lower bound of a commercial short story.

Shorter prose does exist – it’s called flash fiction – but that tends to be less commercial because there isn’t much space to develop a plot. By contrast, poetry tends to be concise by its nature and doesn’t necessarily need a plot.

I included the above points in my reply to this writer, and then I considered there might be a ‘market’ for prose-based events. Perhaps each reader could be given up to 15 minutes each or enough time for one story, whichever limit is reached first. The trade-off is that fewer readers could potentially appear.

I probably won’t be the one to run said event any time soon, but I’ll tuck away that idea for the future.

Fringe Previews

Although a digital version is available, the Edinburgh Festival Fringe still diligently prints a paper catalogue of events. This year, it runs to a total of 384 pages, with six to 12 events per page.

Since the festival doesn’t take place until 2 to 26 August, there is still plenty of time to pick shows, so I’m working out which ones are showing when I’m available.

As I do this, I’m reminded that comedy – and especially stand-up – is the dominant form. It takes up almost a third of the catalogue, and you can find it from tiny attic venues to 1,000-seat theatres.

It strikes me there must be some crossover with certain productions. Comedy and spoken word have elements in common. And then the line between spoken word and theatre isn’t always clear, while the catalogue groups together physical theatre with dance and circus. And at what point do dance and circus become cabaret or variety?

Even experienced promoters must have to make tough decisions about which category where a given show should be placed. Should a humourous theatre piece go in Comedy and potentially be crowded out by other events, or be included in Theatre where readers may be expecting a more serious production?

In any case, the popularity of the festival might be starting to ease off. It’s notorious for causing performers to make a loss, largely because of accommodation costs. Even the well-known Jason Manford and Gail Porter say they’ve been priced out.

But that’s a matter for the future. For 2024, it’s business as usual, and I look forward to going once again.

Raising a Toast

In last week’s entry, I made a passing reference to Toastmasters International. I’d known for a long time there was a branch near me, but I’d never managed to attend because it always coincided with something else.

I then discovered there would be a meeting the day after that entry was published, so I made a decision to try it out. Potential members are permitted to attend up to three events free of charge before deciding whether to join.

I was immediately impressed by several elements, from the encouraging posts on the Facebook page to the welcome from the hosts and other members at the hotel where they meet. I was glad to see the schedule running to the minute; for example, the first few items took place at 19:00, 19:02, 19:12, 19:14, and so forth. All timekeeping was enforced by a manually-operated traffic light system.

After the introductions, the event started with three speakers each giving a five-minute presentation on a given topic. The rest of the members would each fill in separate evaluation forms, giving the speaker feedback on what they liked and what could be improved. While those forms remained confidential between writer and receiver, one designated evaluator would later give public feedback.

The second half of the meeting took a more speed-dating approach, with members paired up at random and asked to question each other for four minutes apiece. This gave me an idea of what motivated people to join the organisation. One took it up after retirement, another was more focussed on the educational programmes – called Pathways – and a third wanted to encourage more girls into STEM subjects.

I’m told the speed-dating wasn’t a usual feature, and that the time would typically be given over to other members who wanted to be assessed on presentation style, including how often ‘Ah’, ‘Um’ and other filler words were used. I would have benefitted from this, as I find myself using these all the time.

So that’s already one good reason to join Toastmasters, and I wish I could say I signed up on the spot. The package they’re offering is right up my street; it mixes improv, lived experience and networking. Even the fee of £14 per month (plus a £20 joining fee) is good value. You could easily pay more than that for a typical night class at university.

The largest stumbling block is entirely practical. This branch meets twice a month, while my open-mic takes place on the same night as one of these. My attendance rate would be 50% at best, and I feel I can’t offer the commitment it deserves.

If my circumstances change in the future, I’d be willing to give Toastmasters fresh consideration.

Towards More Enthusiastic Speeches

With the possible exception of slam poetry, it’s usually acceptable to read from notes at literary events, whether you’re performing or introducing others. It makes a difference, however, whether you’re simply reading the words off the page or adding the meaning behind them.

I’ve been to a few events – literary and otherwise – where the host has stepped on stage, pulled out a piece of paper, then said, ‘We are very excited to welcome…,’ in a flat tone.

I thought about this last week as I heard a speaker at a protest last week who had notes on his phone. However, he only used the device as an aide memoir, as his speech was flawless. If I hadn’t been watching him, I would have thought it was done from memory.

As I say this, I know public speaking is not an easy skill to learn. Because I do so much of it, I sometimes forget some people have stage fright, even household names with long careers. I’ve long wanted to start a class to help people overcome this, and the idea has recently been bubbling up again.

I don’t currently know where these classes would be held, or even what they would be called, but I do know they would meet the following parameters:

  • One-to-one tuition, in contrast to Toastmasters International who hold group sessions.
  • In person, where possible.
  • Charged by the hour.
  • Aimed at a specific goal: business presentation, wedding speech, &c.

Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with my three top tips for giving speeches and presentations:

  • Look beyond the back row of seats, which avoids eye contact and helps keep your posture straight.
  • Avoid alcohol beforehand so you’re fully focussed on the moment.
  • Learn your words thoroughly so they sound natural when you present them.

Looking at Loqueesha

There are plenty of films released each year that are given a lukewarm to negative reception. However, to make it onto the Wikipedia page titled List of films considered the worst, it has to be particularly bad.

At the time of writing, there are some predictable gems on there, like The Room (2003) and Cats (2019), along with forgotten and obscure features like Reefer Madness (1936) and Glitter (2001).

But one in particular caught my attention: Loqueesha, released about six months before Cats. It’s a vanity project directed, produced and co-written by its star Jeremy Saville.

The plot centres around a white barman who sends an audio recording to audition for an advice show on local radio. When his first attempt is rejected, he sends a second one pretending to be a black woman. After landing the job and fronting a successful show, he needs to maintain the illusion.

There are many reasons why it has a score of 1.6 out of 10 on IMDB and an astonishing 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. For a start, there aren’t enough plot points even to stretch to feature-length picture, and let’s skim over the borderline racism.

If there is one salvageable aspect of this film, it’s the dialogue. In the 98-minute running time, I don’t recall hearing much that I would describe as cliché. Yet it does need a lot of tightening to account for the lack of sub-plots. It could probably be shortened to a half or a third of its current running time, and be turned into a TV or radio drama.

There’s also a lesson here about lessening your control of a project. The staging or filming of a script is typically a collaborative process, with different people taking well-defined roles. The writing credits are shared, but perhaps doing the same for the other roles would have improved this film from bad to mediocre.

Rewriting the Handbook

As mentioned in the last entry, our open-mic night for writers – Hotchpotch – held its first event in four months.

The bottom line is that the evening went well: we attracted a sizeable crowd, the event ran on schedule, and people embraced the new donations system. While there were a lot of variables outside our control, it helped to have a robust plan to remove as much guesswork as possible.

When I brought an assistant on board earlier this year, I composed a document to show her the structure of our events, as I’d previously done it from memory.

This is not an exhaustive textbook, but rather a handbook to give an overview of how the event is run, plus best practice gained from years of experience. For example, it reminds the host to recap the introductory speech after the first break for the benefit of those who arrive later.

Because our format evolved on the pub circuit, where we could finish later in the evening. I rewrote the handbook to include a stricter end time and added in revised best practice advice.

As the handbook is a living document, it will likely be updated every month or two with new tweaks, but it really did help with our event last week.

Fragments of a Whole

If you’re a fan of the 1996 film Trainspotting, you’ll be familiar with the opening Choose Life voiceover.

Here, the phrase is repeatedly used to describe aspirations such as owning a large television and having fixed-rate mortgage repayments. It almost tells a story, but not one with a linear narrative. We as listeners have to mentally join the dots.

Later on, the film also features the dance track Born Slippy .NUXX by Underworld, and that takes a similar approach. In an interview from 2010, the lyricist Karl Hyde reported struggling with alcoholism while recording the vocals, so they were presented almost as snapshots rather than a complete image.

I’ve recently been experimenting with similar stream-of-consciousness work. A few months ago, on the way home from an event, I thought up a couple of lines of poetry that I quickly noted down. Over the following month, I added and added to it, one fragment at a time, creating a non-linear piece that straddles the line between prose and poetry.

When I’m performing it, I would normally omit any explanation, instead allowing the audience to interpret it.

When I submitted the piece to my poetry circle, however, I included some further details to aid their analysis. I wasn’t deliberately emulating the style of the Beat Generation, who actively fought against convention in poetry, yet it ended up taking that path.

The difference between my piece and the examples from Trainspotting is that mine doesn’t have music behind it. The Choose Life segment likely wouldn’t work as well without Iggy Pop in the background, while Born Slippy .NUXX would be markedly different if spoken at an open-mic night.

In fact, as I was writing that, I considered I might try it. If I do, I’ll let you know what happens.

Writing Yourself Out of a Corner

If you were a fan of Friends back in 1998, you’ll remember the hype and speculation around what would happen during Ross and Emily’s wedding.

Coming at the end of Season 4, this had to be a climactic scene. These days, it’s hardly a spoiler to mention that Ross accidentally says Rachel’s name, which feeds into the entirety of Season 5. However, I’ve only learnt in the last week that the writers struggled to think of a proper ending until the actor who played Ross – David Schwimmer – accidentally switched the names during another scene.

This serves as a good example of how even professional writers are rarely bestowed with fully-formed ideas. A story often needs to be written out and figured out along the way, and that process can take years.

Larry Cohen pitched the idea for the film Phone Booth to Alfred Hitchcock in the 1960s, but neither of them could think of a reason to keep the main character in the booth. By the late 1990s, the public was becoming increasingly vigilant to the threat of terrorism, and Cohen played into that as he realised a sniper with a weapon could be a good reason. It was even a plot point that the main character was one of the few people still using a payphone by that point.

I even have a few examples of my own. One particular example was a three-line fragment of poetry I wrote at school before I ever routinely wrote poetry. In 2013, more than ten years after I left school, I finally found a way to work it into a fuller piece. It gained a sequel in 2018, taking a very different tone from the original, chiefly in recognition of how I’d changed in those five years.

But even professional writers miss the mark sometimes. The final episode of The Prisoner was broadcast in 1968. Although its writer Patrick McGoohan was pleased with the result, he was under pressure to deliver it quickly and many viewers were unhappy that it raised more questions than it answered.

And we must mention the ninth season of Dallas, which was entirely written off as a dream to bring back the character of Bobby Ewing.

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.

Embracing New Beginnings, or Something Like That

Regular readers will know I run an open-mic event called Hotchpotch. This is primarily for writers rather than musicians, and it’s been happening since 2010. Since I took over in 2015, the one constant has been the need to change venues from time to time. We are now in such a transition period again.

This time, we had several weeks’ notice from the venue. The owner intended to sell the place, but it unexpectedly closed before the sale went through rather than afterwards. The new place has not responded to our email asking whether they would honour the bookings for the remainder of 2023.

As a stop-gap, we held the July event in an open-air amphitheatre. It was a lot of fun, but the Scottish climate means this is not a feasible long-term solution, so it won’t be repeated any time soon.

On Friday, someone did reach out to us to offer assistance, and I hope it leads to a fruitful outcome, especially as a couple of other venues in the area have also closed suddenly.

For 13 years, we’ve been able to secure venues free of charge in return for members buying drinks and snacks from the bar. I’ve come to accept these days are probably at an end, and I’m actively considering how we might implement a new model involving donations.

That said, a fallow period of a month or two might give Hotchpotch a chance to reinvent and reinvigorate itself, just as we’ve done for the last 13 years.