Accepting One Invitation and Declining Another

I’m pleased to report I’ve been invited to take part in a Pecha Kucha event on Friday 7 November at the Dundee Rep Theatre.

These talks follow a rigid format. Speakers need to prepare 20 slides, which will be projected for exactly 20 seconds apiece, so the accompanying speech must match the time available. Less rigid is the choice of topic, which can be almost anything, provided it’s suitable for a family audience.

I’ll be talking about my trips around the Millennium Bridges in 2023 and 2025.

My challenge here was to take the complex story of the two trips and weave them into a story that the audience could easily follow. This meant indentifying suitably strong start and end points, while needing to eliminate a lot of detail along the way. If unconstrained, I could easily make the story into a half-hour speech.

I thought the accompanying pictures would be the easy part, since many of the were already taken. However, they all needed to be JPEG files converted to a specific resolution and dots-per-inch value. I’m not arty at all, so I relied on online tools with hit-and-miss results; one in particular kept converting pictures at random from JPEG to PNG.

The hard work won’t be over until the night of the presentation. While I have a good idea what my script says for each slide, I need to rehearse and make sure I hit all the relevant points.

But I can’t take every opportunity.

At the end of last week, an event organiser offered me a ten-minute slot to read poetry at his regular spoken-word event near the end of November.

I’ve wanted to go to this event for a long while, but it always clashes with my weekly writing group on a Tuesday. I was even inclined to write a new piece to fill the ten minutes.

Realistically, our own event has to take priority because our members expect us to be there. If my co-host or I know we can’t make a session, we try our best to cover or to make it an online-only event, depending on the type of interruption.

This time, it wasn’t possible to clear the day because of our other commitments. I reluctantly had to turn down his generous offer, with the caveat that I’d be happy to consider other days of the week.

A Look Back to Ten Years Ago

I have a couple of upcoming projects that I’m not ready to talk about just yet. To fill the gap, I’ve instead looked backwards in time to the entry closest to today: 26 October 2015.

With the title Relentlessness, the entry described a hectic week. The open-mic night Hotchpotch held an event aboard the vintage HMS Unicorn, the Dundee Literary Festival had just been and gone, and the artist studios WASPS held an open weekend. I’d also been to see Hamlet at the cinema, presented by National Theatre Live, while our writing group was gearing up for National Novel Writing month.

As I read back this snapshot of events, they somehow don’t feel like they happened ten years ago, even though I rationally know they did.

For instance, WASPS studios is very much still open for business and Jen Robson is still around, albeit working from a home-based studio. Hotchpotch is still going, although we’ve never been invited back onto the Unicorn. Then we have National Novel Writing Group, which only ceased operations this year.

On the other hand, although none of us realised it at the time, the last Dundee Literary Festival would be held in 2016. It took until March this year for a replacement event, the Dundee Book Festival, to start up.

There’s something both appealing and lamentable about that ephemeriality. No doubt I’ll feel the same when I look back upon this year’s projects from 2035.

Gttng Strtd Wth SMS

Last week’s entry was all about postcards. In writing about these, however, it was necessary to touch upon its replacement technology: SMS. I realised I had more to write on the matter. so today’s entry effectively serves as a part 2.

When the first SMS-capable handsets became available, they wouldn’t contain a full keyboard. Instead, each letter was mapped to the number pad in the following semi-standardised formation:

I say ‘semi-standardised’. The 0 key usually acted as spacebar, while 1 often produced symbols, but some layouts deviated from this. Ditto the toggling of capital letters, which we’ll disregard for the following demonstration.

To type the word BOOK, the following steps were necessary:

  • B required two presses of 2.
  • O – three presses of 6.
  • Pause for a second or press the right arrow, depending on phone, to allow the letter to register. O would otherwise loop back around to M.
  • O – three further presses of 6.
  • K – two presses of 5.

Overall, quite the frustrating process. It quickly became accepted practice to omit letters from words or use soundalikes. This might morph the word thanks into thx, or tomorrow into 2moro, which are still reasonably legible.

There were further innovations to come. One was the T9 system, which guessed each letter in context based on its neighbouring presses. To type the aforementioned BOOK, you would press the buttons 2-6-6-5 once each. The display might suggest BOOK first, but COOL or CONK could be selected from the menu, cutting down on overall presses.

Many phones would remember which words were used most commonly, but my Nokia 3330 never did. If I wanted to mention my pal Amy, I always had to scroll through BOX and COW.

Despite T9, the abbreviated style still persisted in popular culture for some time, with Fall Out Boy releasing a single as late as 2007 titled Thnks fr th Mmrs. It only died out when touchscreen input became more common.

Cards on the table, I was never sorry to see SMS speak disappear. Although it took longer, I liked to write my sentences out properly, and it could be challenging to decode some abbreviations. I much prefer what we have these days. No doubt the style will make a resurgence at some point, but I won’t be participating in that.

A Quick Word About Postcards

Although postcards are now virtually obsolete in daily life, I can remember a time when they were used to enter competitions, to cast votes in polls, and to let friends and family know you’d reached your holiday destination safely.

But when I’m going away for a day or two, I like to maintain the last of those traditions. In most cases, I know I’ll arrive back home before the mail does, even when it’s within Great Britain, but it doesn’t diminish the surprise for the recipient.

A typical card measures around four inches by six, although there are wide variations, with the front featuring a picture or design. The back is split into two equal sections, so your text has to fit into that left section because the address and the stamp will take up the right-hand side. You can also buy books of plain postcards where the address and stamp go on the front, allowing use of the entire rear side.

Still, the fixed format forces you to pick your words wisely or to minimise the size of your handwriting. The inventors of the SMS initially chose 160 characters as the limit based upon those restrictions.

In the earliest days of mobile messaging, each one typically cost between 5p and 10p to send; those figures are not adjusted for inflation. Some handsets supported longer messages, but each block or partial block of 160 characters was charged separately.

Despite this, an SMS easily undercut the price of a stamp in the second half of the 1990s – shown by this table from The Great Britain Philatelic Society – especially as you didn’t need to buy a physical postcard either.

The cost of SMS and similar messages today is negligable. Most phone subscriptions have some element of inclusive or unlimited allowance, putting the higher cost into perspective. On a day trip to Birmingham yesterday, I sent just two cards, but they cost me 87p apiece in second-class stamps.

Knowing I might not have a chance later in the day, my intention was to write them both on the flight and post them at the other end. I forgot to take them out of my bag until we were almost ready to land, but they’re both now safely in the post awaiting delivery.

Memorable Names for Fictional Characters

Most of the time, I find it easy to think of what the characters in my stories should be called. Their names often appear at the same time as the storyline.

I wrote one such piece in 2014 titled Adrian Eats the World, which appeared at the same time as the title. Until I found the file while writing this, I thought that was still its name. In 2015, it seems I had a change of mind and amended his name to Mikey. I can’t remember what made me change this, so it’s now been restored.

More recently, I’ve included a Rosalind McQueen because the cadence simply worked well. During the story, she changes this to Scott McQueen, which has a different cadence but is equally as pleasing.

The most difficult character to name was a sci-fi story set during the 1960s in a world where a group of intelligence agents were worried about an impending visit from aliens. This character was supposed to be the young man who had been drafted into the unit as a favour by his father.

I looked to take the James Bond approach, with an ordinary first name and a distinctive last name. It took weeks to settle upon Malcolm St Clement. Even then, I wasn’t certain because the only other person I could find with that last name was the actress Pam St Clement from EastEnders, and even that’s a modification of her real name: Pamela Clements. However, it sounded good, and I kept using it.

On other occasions, a name is the least of my concerns.

In one of my series, the first-person narrator remained unnamed until the 24th part. I didn’t even realise I was omitting the name at first; it simply wasn’t central to the storyline. Besides, the 2004 film Layer Cake pulled off this trick nicely.

Even once I became aware of the omissions, there were workarounds I could employ to avoid saying it. It helped that the series was an ensemble effort comprising seven other named main characters. Eventually, I decided to reveal the narrator’s name as a minor twist in what was intended to be the finale. I’ve since added a surprise 25th story.

The other layer to this discussion is the use of nicknames. I find these hard to pull off convincingly. Unexplained nicknames can be jarring, yet when they are explained, the backstory can feel contrived or a little too perfect.

In this instance, it might be wise to take a cue from real life. For instance, there’s a website for pilots and fans of the F-16 fighter jet that has a whole section devoted to the imaginative callsigns in the forces. A few are clever, but most are a little ramshackle and that makes them sound a little more convincing.

What We Talk About at Writing Group

For the last ten years, I’ve run a weekly writing group. This has almost always been on a Tuesday and with a co-organiser.

I inititally joined in 2010, when the group was still a branch of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I took over in 2015 once the original organisers graduated and moved away. After withdrawing our affiliation from NaNoWriMo two years ago, two of us now jointly run it as an independent group.

It must be stated that we have a manageable number of members, so other than a few word-of-mouth referrals, the group is not actively recruiting at present.

In its current form, members can drop in at any time during the two-hour session, either in-person or via Discord. They’re welcome to stay for a short while or the whole session, and there isn’t even an expectation to write. We frequently end up chatting, joking, making plans and/or solving problems.

But although that format is consistent these days, it took some trial and error to figure it out.

As the main NaNoWriMo challenge only took place during November, the weekly meetings coincided with that. After some enthusiasm by members, we cautiously extended the-e weekly meetings on a trial basis through December, then January, then February, and so on. People were still coming along, so we confidently started meeting up all year round. We now have a recurring table reservation and the staff know us well.

On a couple of occasions before the pandemic, I even brought the members around to my house on 31 October so we could begin to draft our novels at the stroke of 1 November.

While the meetings themselves have always been a hit, the members have rarely been interested in any formal activites such as writing sprints, feedback sessions or homework challenges. Variations of these have been attempted with different leaderships in different years, but none have caught on.

In Dundee, at least, the thirst is simply for ringfenced time to write every week and that’s what we provide.

Sitting – I Won’t Stand for It

Five years ago this month, I finally started working from home on account of the pandemic. This was a major change after 14 years being in an office, although the transition was delayed from March because my employer at the time had only had desktop PCs and needed to buy us laptops.

Before this, I’d already been interested in a standing desk. Regular use can help improve your overall health. To this end, I’d experimented with differnt layouts for my own computer, settling on a tabletop stand that could hold a laptop and nothing more.

With the prospect of working from home, however, it was necessary to find room for an external monitor because we used several software applications and it was easier to keep them all on screen at the same time. I quickly found a gas-lift standing desk adaptor and the employer made a contribution towards buying it.

In this time, I’ve changed jobs twice and moved house once, and I still work from home for the majority of the time. I realised recently that while the setup worked perfectly well, the equipment took up more than twice the space of what I actually required, so it was time to scale down.

My new desk is just 600mm square, split horizontally, as seen below.

The desk set up in a standing position, with a monitor, laptop and keyboard on the tabletop parts. Towards the bottom is a bank of electric sockets; to the right of the picture, wooden shelves can be seen.

The far half of the tabletop can hold the monitor arm and laptop, while the keyboard can be at a different height and/or angle on the near half. It even has a built-in extension cable and LED lights, eliminating the need to use my own cable.

I’ve had to compromise slightly, with the wooden shelves providing a handy place for a few of the electrical adaptors. However, all the essential parts are present and the new setup fits much more snugly into the room.

Here’s to this lasting at least the next five years, if not much longer.

Six Vital Writing Items

Since becoming a writer, I’ve found I’ve come to rely on a several useful items and resources. Let’s look at six of the more important ones, divided equally into two lists.

Related to technology

  1. Privacy screen
    If you regularly use a laptop in a public place, such as cafés or trains, grab a privacy screen yesterday. These narrow the field of view so anyone looking from the next seat is unlikely to see your screen. I used to own one that was stuck to the screen with near-invisible tabs, although dirt found its way behind that, so I think I’ll buy a removable one next.
  2. Text shortcuts
    When I’m writing, there are certain words, phrases and symbols that I often use, so I’ve set the AutoCorrect in Microsoft Word to generate these; for example, the letters ‘wr’ type out ‘whether’ into the document. In tandem, I have an AutoHotkey script, allowing me to generate a en-dash with a simple key combination, among other useful symbols. Finally, if you press Win+V on a Windows machine, you can access the multiple copy-and-paste feature to save time when transferring a lot of different items.
  3. Mobile hotspot or tethering
    After a decade of running a writing group, the one constant is a hit-or-miss Wi-Fi connection, sometimes from week-to-week in the same venue. I recommend finding a mobile phone plan that allows you to use your own Internet connection where the house Wi-Fi fails, perhaps even a cheap one seperate from your normal phone. Indeed, some tablet devices support a SIM card, which does the same job.

Unrelated to technology

  1. Diary with note pages
    For many years, I’ve kept an A5-sized paper diary with a week spread over a page or two pages. When you’re on the phone to organisers, it’s much easier to check your availability. I also make sure there’s plenty of note space, as many of my pieces begin life as pencil on paper. Speaking of which…
  2. Sharpener with shavings container
    These days, I never buy a pencil sharpener without a little bin attached to it. It keeps all the shavings contained so I don’t need to move away from my desk to deal with a blunt pencil.
  3. Subscription to Writing Magazine or similar
    I feel obliged to point out that other magazines are available; this is simply my go-to publication. I haven’t grouped this under technology as printed magazines still appear to be thriving, even if the content is also available digitally, including Writing Magazine. I like their sheer breadth of featured publishers and competitions, although only a handful will be suitable for my work.

The Story of a Faulty Laptop

About 2½ weeks ago, my laptop developed a fault. It had been tucked inside a protective sleeve, which was itself inside a rucksack, when I was caught in an exceptional downpour on the way to a pal’s place.

Although the machine wasn’t especially damp, I suspect the rain was the culprit. It initially switched on and worked as normal, then a blue-screen error was displayed. Fortunately, after being left to dry out for an hour, it gradually returned to normal.

And it kept working as normal until Tuesday night of last week, when the problems suddenly reappeared. This time, there was no blue-screen warning and no resolution even after drying it out for hours. It simply would not load Windows from the local hard disc.

Knowing I would need a PC for the weekend’s activities, I immediately looked for a replacement, settling on a second-hand Acer from CEX.

That said, I wasn’t worried about my actual files going missing. They were synchronised with OneDrive, and I have an external hard drive where I diligently back them up at the start of each month.

Well, all except one file.

On my desktop, I had a shortcut to Microsoft Word document where I’m writing a current story. I’d most recently updated it between the first and second failures of the former laptop. I thought this pointed to a location in OneDrive. To my surprise, it was on the local disc, the same one that became unreadable, and it didn’t appear to be backed up anywhere on the external drive.

I thought about the problem for a few days. While I don’t have a great deal of knowledge about the inner workings of a computer, I do know many systems are modular, so individual components can be swapped if you’re prepared to dive inside the cover.

I also discovered it was possible to buy an inexpensive piece of kit to turn a bare hard disc drive into a makeshift USB thumb drive. This allowed me to verify the disc itself was still working – and that document was intact. While the case was open, I also took the opportunity to swipe one of the RAM units from the old computer and double the memory of the new one.

At the time of writing, the new computer is almost entirely set up. By coincidence, this week’s entry was supposed to cover five or so items I rely upon as a writer. In light of current events, that’ll be pushed to next week or a future entry.

Meanwhile, here’s a timely reminder to back up your work.

Reaching Fever Peach

On Saturday just gone, I was given the opportunity to perform a 15-minutes of poetry at the Keiller Centre in Dundee. This was organised by local comedy band Fever Peach as part of their Monthly Indulgence event and here’s how they announced the event.

That said, I only learned of the opportunity on Wednesday and I didn’t have a themed set ready to go. After looking through my collection, the structure came together quickly, with the verse generally moving from more serious to more frivolous.

The actual reading time clocked in around 12 minutes. This was helpful as I knew there would need to be time left for applause and possibly banter with the hosts and the audience; I even gave out Biscoff biscuits as part of the performance.

And there was one other factor at play. When I go to events, I often like to write verse in situ. On one occasion, I wrote clerihews for all the performers who had gone before me. On another, I offered a poetic critique of all the art on the wall of the café. This time, I scribbled a short poem during the soundcheck, based on the, ‘One-two, one-two,’ that sound engineers often use to test microphones.

While the Fever Peach duo kept the show together, the other act on the bill was a travelling Mexican musician called Ed Stone. Despite breaking two different strings on two guitars, he acted as a melodic counterpoint to my poetry.

These shows always end with a complicated improv game, during which my mind went blank more than once, and Ed struggled a little because he was playing in a second language. Still, it was all a bit of fun.

The only downside was the size of the audience, with just five tickets sold. While it is true that the venue is quite hidden away, they always go down a storm and they deserve more eyeballs.

I would happily perform for Fever Peach again, and I look forward to similar opportunities in the future.