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.

The Ghosts of Blogs Long Gone

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned how this blog is now nine years old, and I’ve updated it without any significant gaps. Regular readers will probably be able to identify my style of writing. This is no accident. Before moving to WordPress, I cut my teeth on LiveJournal for many years, and some of what I learnt has carried over to this very day.

Affectionately known as LJ to its users, the site was big news around the millennium. I was relatively late to the party, making my first entry there in 2003. Nonetheless, I kept it updated with day-to-day events until around 2013. My experimentation there was crucial to how I approach blogging today. I found out what topics would engage and disengage an audience, how to structure the text, and the optimum length for a given entry.

Looking back, I’m surprised that some of my least engaging updates were made between 2011 and 2013. I knew LJ was losing its audience by then. In a misguided attempt to keep it alive, I’d largely dispensed with the diary style in favour of a dull series of weekly posts titled #MusicMonday, featuring a different rock or pop track.

By that point, I was starting to take my writing more seriously, so I chose to start afresh on WordPress. This would have a focus on fiction and poetry, and would go on to be updated on a strict weekly schedule. From the moment I set up my account here, I could see why users were moving away: WordPress offered basic features such as scheduled posts and picture uploads as part of their free account, but LJ still charged for them. Most of these features are now free, but LJ still charges $15 just to change your username.

That’s not to say LJ is dead. I still have one pal who updates to this day, and it was a comment underneath her most recent entry that led me back to another blog I kept at Dreamwidth, based on LJ code with modifications.

In 2009, I set up what would now be termed an alt-account to share thoughts that I didn’t want a wider audience to see. I stopped regularly updating there at the same time as I opened WordPress. Then the rabbit-hole deepened when I remembered I’d set up a secondary account to record fragments of dreams. The intention of using them for writing prompts never came to fruition and that blog has remained untouched since 2011.

I have one other LJ page that’s now inaccessible. This was set up for a juggling society at what is now the University of the West of Scotland. Members were kept updated on that page because this was an era before MySpace went mainstream. The student email address no longer exists, my password guesses have been incorrect, and I never set up a recovery question. As such, it’s remained fossilised since 8 Feb 2005.

Reading the LJ Help pages, there is no hope of recovery, so I’ve written to the helpdesk to ask when it’ll be purged. This is often done with accounts that have been idle for too long.

That’s the story of how this WordPress blog came about, and why it’s written the way it is. I can still look back at entries from its earlier days and see what I would have done differently, but I am generally happy with how the past nine years have gone.

Preparing for November

For the last eight years, I’ve had the privilege of running the Dundee & Angus region of National Novel Writing Month. The name is usually shortened to NaNoWriMo.

My official title is Municipal Liaison (ML) and I’m just one of an army of volunteers around the world who run local regions of differing sizes. Dublin, for instance, is one region. By contrast, the entirety of Italy is also its own region for NaNoWriMo purposes, although that’s not uncommon outside the Anglosphere.

The poster child of NaNo is the challenge to draft a 50,000-word novel over the 30 days of November. Regions are not required to meet year-round, but ours does every Tuesday. November sees an increase in membership, so we’ve learnt to plan accordingly.

In addition to our Tuesday meetings, we have an additional one each Saturday in November. Traditionally, this is at a different location. I always like to have a co-ML as a backup, and she organised that alternative venue.

But why meet year-round in the first place?

It’s less well-known that the organisation also runs standalone challenges during April and July where you choose your own goal.

The idea came about after the 2015 November challenge, when there was an enthusiasm to keep meeting up into December. A previous co-ML and I decided to extend it on a trial basis each month, and we eventually met up every week until April 2016.

At that point, it was clear the weekly meetings were a winner. These allowed our members to come along during the off-season to work on other projects or prepare for the next challenge.

When the pubs were closed during the pandemic, we already used Discord as a meeting place, and this was stepped up. Our meetings now take a hybrid form, where members have the alternative to engage in our private server.

The in-person element, however, will always remain central for as long as I’m in charge of the Dundee & Angus NaNoWriMo region.

What’s Occurring in September

Eschewing my usual ‘columnist’ format, this week’s entry takes the format of a bulleted list all about this month’s upcoming projects.

  • The following week, on Wednesday 21 September, I’m leading a gameshow called The Literal Flow Test. This is part of the Dundee Fringe, and takes place at Dock Street Studios. You can book tickets now, but there is no direct URL, so go to the official website and look down the page.
  • The following day, Hotchpotch has been granted a stall at Dundee University Freshers’ Fair. That’s on Thursday 22 September from 11am to 4pm where we’ll be introducing ourselves to the new crop of students.

Remembering Where You Read It

More than ten years ago, I read the Herman Melville novel Moby-Dick, which is a hefty 500 pages. At the time, I volunteered every week at a hospital radio station and I used the bus journey to tackle much of my reading. Over time, I began to associate the route with the narrative of the story, even though the two were very different.

I recalled this recently as I read the Richard Osman novel The Thursday Murder Club on a bus, and I realised I have a few of these associations.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a book I’ll always associate with a bar where I currently hold a writing group, while A Room With a View reminds me of another bar not far away. Catch-22 is a particularly memorable case, as the association covers both the physical place, namely the school library, and the backdrop of the emerging War on Terror.

This phenomenon isn’t restricted to novels either. On a poetry front, I reviewed a Michael Pederson book in a park, and finished a Lorraine Mariner collection by candlelight one Christmas Eve.

In some cases, it must be stated that the reading locations were more memorable than the books, but I won’t single out any of them – at least not today.

When to Break a Line of Poetry

During my last poetry group meeting, I was inspired to create a type of verse known as found poetry. This is created by taking phrases, passages or sometimes individual words from another work – often a prose piece – and reframing them, frequently by altering the line breaks.

My source material was taken from a comment that another member had written when distributing our poems. Here it is as prose:

Collation enfolded. Zoom link below for this evening. There have been recent times in recent weeks where the Wi-Fi at 2 Shore Terrace has been decidedly dodgy.

I then arranged this into a short piece that illustrates arguably the most obvious distinction between prose and poetry: the difference between sentences and lines.

Collation enfolded.
Zoom link below for this evening.
There have been recent times
in recent weeks where the Wi-Fi
at 2 Shore Terrace
has been decidedly dodgy.

The original material uses the sentence as a delimiter, whereas the reworked version uses a combination of sentences and lines.

I felt the first two sentences would work well as complete lines on account of their brevity. The third sentence, by contrast, runs over four lines to emphasise the repetition of recent times and recent weeks. It is also considered good practice to end a line with a strong noun or verb, as the reader is likely to linger there for a moment longer than the other words.

If you want to try this yourself, here’s a more in-depth discussion about the difference between a sentence and a line. It’s also worth reading a few examples, such as when a journalist used the technique on speeches by the politician Donald Rumsfeld.

Nearly Nine Years of Staying on Topic

I have something I want to write about, but it needs to wait until at least next week. So in looking for inspiration to fill this week, I decided to go and look back at the entry I made around a year ago today.

Unfortunately, I was similarly uninspired back then, with topics I wanted to discuss, but my motivation was trampled by a couple of other factors.

Going back two years, I talked about the hurdles that beginner writers face, while 2019 took a look at how subtitlers caption TV programmes. In 2018, it was an entry about effective complaint letters, while five years ago, we discussed submitting Christmas stories during summer to meet publishing deadlines.

At this point, I was tempted to stop looking back, particularly as I didn’t have a point to make that would tie together these disparate threads. However, I was now curious.

In 2016, I was in the middle of an MLitt degree and running short of time, so I set readers a challenge. The year before that, it was all about saying goodbye to pieces of writing that weren’t working. Back in 2014, the topic was introverts and extroverts, and that’s as far back as I can go because the blog began in Oct 2013.

⭐⭐⭐

After leaving this entry overnight, I realised the connecting thread: in almost nine years, this blog has stayed relatively on-topic.

I think we’ve all had an experience where we subscribe to a newsletter or a content creator, only to find the topic either evolves or abruptly changes into something you didn’t sign up for. With this in mind, I’ve long been careful to make sure each entry harks back to writing in some way.

Just before I make a post on WordPress, the site tells me that it’ll be sent to more than 1,100 readers. That’s a pretty loyal fanbase to have built up over these nine years.