‘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

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.

Collaboration Nation

If you’re a creative sort in Dundee, you’ll probably have some involvement with Creative Dundee. This is an organisation with a mission to connect the city’s art projects with one another.

Earlier this week, I received an email asking whether I’d be open to an interview with them, covering the writing groups I run. The offer couldn’t come at a better time, considering I’ve just brought aboard a co-host for my open-mic group and we’re looking to plug an upcoming collaboration in April.

The interview takes place next week, and I hope to bring you the published piece in a few weeks’ time.

Separately from this, I’d offered to lend equipment to a guerilla film project who were awarded funding through Creative Dundee last month. I’ve now been called into action, as they need to borrow a projector and a camcorder.

It’s unlikely I’ll be able to attend the event on Saturday because of a prior commitment, but I look forward to hearing the report.

New Notebooks and Diaries

This festive season, a lot of writers will be given gifts of brand-new notebooks. It’s a safe bet that most writers will appreciate the thought, plus they’re relatively inexpensive for all but the fanciest designs.

Indeed, some writers find they can more easily start a new project with a fresh book, even if – paradoxically – nobody wants to spoil the new pages with ink.

I’m someone who doesn’t don’t fall into that camp. I do write by hand much of the time, but I can reach into my cupboard and pick up at least one that still has a number of usable blank pages. I also don’t have the storage space for too many new books. As such, buying new is a rarity for me.

There is one exception to this. Every year, I buy a specific type of diary, usually a Moleskine or a Leuchtturm 1917. These have a diary week on each left-hand page, while the right side is feint-ruled, allowing for notes to be taken.

I began this approach after reading The Books of Albion, a collection of diaries by the musician Peter Doherty. His diaries often document what happened during a particular week or contain fragments of song lyrics or poems. Some pages also act as a scrapbook, with photographs and tickets glued in.

While my diaries don’t have this level of detail, it’s interesting to read what I’ve written some years before. Often I’ll find a draft of something that was never developed into a final piece, or occasionally an early draft of a now-finished work.

So until I really do run out of space, buying new notebooks will remain a once-yearly occurrence.

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.

Going Through Stages

After a conversation with a member of my poetry group last week, I remembered that not everyone is as comfortable speaking on stage as I am. I then discovered it’s been four years since I last covered the topic on this blog.

As such, let’s update it. It’s wise to remember this should be treated as a subjective guide, not a textbook.

Talk with the organisers about what’s required

If the organisers haven’t already told you the plan, it’s worth asking for the following information:

  • How long you’ll be asked to speak for
  • What type of content is required
  • Whether you’re expected to read from paper or perform from memory
  • Whether you need to introduce yourself
  • Where you should wait before you’re called up
  • Whether any fee is payable

Each event has its own particular character. Some events like performers to fill a 15-minute slot. Other events allow performers to go up twice. Slams sometimes mark down poets for reading words from a page.

If it’s an unfamiliar venue, be sure to obtain the exact address and check how to access the building. Don’t forget to arrive in plenty of time.

Think about your own structure

The organisers will take care of the overall structure and running order, but it’s wise to plan your own slot so you don’t miss a step. A typical note-to-self might read:

  • Give name, say you’re reading from short story collection The Pie Seller
  • Say you’re happy to sign copies
  • Briefly mention editor at Law Hill Books
  • Tell obesity clinic anecdote
  • Read out And an Onion One Too (page 24)
  • Thank Tracey Sanders for organising
  • Read out The Crust of the Matter (page 12)

It’s a good idea to place the thanks as second-last, not as the final item. That means the audience are more likely to go away with the ending of your work in their head.

Briefly explain if you need to, but don’t apologise

Some pieces do require an explanation; perhaps a work is unfinished, is an extract from a longer work, or was written under certain circumstances. But keep it brief and don’t explain anything that the audience will take or infer from the piece.

If you feel you can’t read a particular piece without apologising or telling a long story, either take it out of your set or work on it until only a short introduction is necessary.

Read out loud and time your words

The best way to identify weak parts in your set is to read it aloud – and that’s the last thing you want to happen in public. So find a room on your own and read it out where nobody can hear you. Are there any long sentences that need to be broken up? Are there words that are difficult to say clearly?

When reading from a book or from sheets of paper, it’s a good idea to turn up the corner slightly or to stick a post-it note as a lever. When using an e-reader or tablet computer, practice tapping the correct area of the screen to turn the page; there might also be a delay on some devices.

Don’t forget to use a stopwatch to make sure all your words fit within the agreed timeslot.

Make sure everyone can hear you

In my experience, smaller readings tend not to use a microphone, so you might need to project. Avoid tilting your head down to read the piece; instead, hold your manuscript higher and off to one side so it doesn’t muffle your words, or look down only with your eyes. Always speak more slowly than you would in normal conversation and don’t be afraid to pause.

If there’s a working microphone, use it. If possible, test it out beforehand. A big annoyance for an audience is a sound level that increases and decreases at random. So whether the microphone is handheld or on a stand, keep it at the same distance from your mouth as you speak. Most are designed to pick up sound from the top, although a few have the pick-up on the side.

Avoid alcohol before the gig

I fully understand why folks need Dutch courage before going on stage. From years of going to the Edinburgh Fringe, though, I’ve found a drunk performer rarely makes a good impression. My rule is not to take alcohol before speaking, only coffee or a soft drink.

Decide where in the room to look

I know a few poets who deliberately look at individual audience members. However, it’s  unnerving to make eye contact for most people. I have two alternative methds:

The first is to look between two audience members, so the person on the right assumes I’m looking at the one on the left, and vice versa. The second is to look above the heads of the back row; this has the added advantage of giving you a better posture.

Keep going through distractions and cock-ups

Perhaps the microphone fails, perhaps you forget the words, perhaps a hundred other unpredictable problems crop up. Keep going as best as you can. It might mean cutting a piece short or shouting instead of reading, but the audience are there to see you perform.

A common issue at spoken-word nights is the audience member who keeps talking. Unlike a music gig, you don’t have the advantage of drowning them out with your instruments. A good host will take charge of silencing any chat, but if they don’t, either carry on as you were or – if it’s too distracting – politely ask them to refrain.

Signal when you’ve finished

At the end of a piece, the audience sometimes doesn’t know whether you’re finished or simply pausing for dramatic effect. A good clear signal is to lower your manuscript or to step backwards slightly, or even say ‘Thank you.’ At that point, people should take the hint and applaud.

Listen to the other performers

Unless you’ve arranged otherwise, it’s considered a courtesy to stay and listen to the other performers before and after your set. If you really must disappear straight after the gig, tell the organiser or mention it on stage.

Do it again

It’s a cliché, but the more you stand up and speak in public, the more techniques you’ll learn, like which techniques or always or never provoke a reaction. There are no guarantees that your poetry performances will always be successful, but by following the suggestions above, you can maximise those chances.

Where Did Tuesday Go?

A full 25 hours on from Tuesday at 8pm, and an entry finally appears. Here’s what went down, and what’ll happen now.

Every Tuesday, I run the Dundee & Angus region of National Novel Writing Month. We meet weekly all year round in person and online, which becomes twice a week in November. That’s when the main novel-writing challenge is held. Yesterday, I knew I wasn’t going to be available to host because of a poetry event. I turned to my co-lead, who is normally able to fill in, but she was unwell.

As such, the meet-up had to be cancelled entirely, which rarely happens. I spent my lunchtime sending messages to make sure none of the members turned up.

These meet-ups are such a fixture of my week that it doesn’t feel like a Tuesday without one. I regularly use the time to write or finish my blog entry, which is why it’s always posted that evening. No meet-up meant it went completely out of my head. In fact, I only remembered this morning.

So where do we go from here? The last time this happened, the self-imposed sanction was to post an extra entry, but I feel this deserves something more severe because there was no reasonable excuse for forgetting. It’s normally enough of an effort to write one blog entry a week, so let’s have another two this week.

As such, the extra ones will be posted on Friday 18 November and Sunday 20 November, both at 8pm. Each one must be at least 500 words long, and they can’t cover the same topic. This punishment can be increased, but not decreased.

I’ll catch you again on Friday.

Presenting to Creative Folks

Although these entries are posted in a regular fashion, they’re sometimes written days in advance, giving me time to iron out any flaws. This is not one of these entries. This is about an event from this morning.

I’m part of a local group called Amps, self-described as a community of people who make and cultivate creativity in Dundee. Every Tuesday morning, the members gather for a lighthearted online event that includes discussion questions for everyone, and one of the members typically gives a talk about their work.

It was my turn today, and I talked about the challenges of running both a poetry open-mic and a novel-writing group. I first considered the many differences between the two groups, then ended by discussing three key rules I follow when running both of them.

I’ve been working on this topic for a long time. In 2020, I was supposed to make a Pecha Kucha presentation that never went ahead, but I’d planned what I wanted to talk about. All I really needed to do was bring it up to date.

Regarding Amps as an organisation, I’d heard about them a few years back, but I didn’t join until about this time last year. I didn’t initially imagine I’d be welcome as I don’t rely on the arts to make a living, but the organisers keep a broad church.

After the presentation, there is always a short question-and-answer session, in which I was able to expand upon some of the points I made and put some preconceptions to bed. The weirdest question was whether I would consider using artificial intelligence in my writing.

I’m not always at these meetings because of work commitments, but I’ll endeavour to go whenever I’m available.