Keeping a Cabinet

When you lead a group, it’s tempting to give orders and expect others to fall in line. There are situations where this is appropriate, particularly in the military.

But in a writing group, a dictatorial attitude only stirs resentments and makes people want to leave. On the other hand, discussing the matter with everyone in the group often leads to a jumble of individual opinions with no consensus. So what is a good way to make a decision on behalf of a group?

File:The Cabinet Office MOD 45155536.jpg
Photo: Sergeant Tom Robinson RLC/MOD [OGL (http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-licence/version/1/)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons
In many democracies, only a small percentage of politicians comprise the Cabinet and make most of the decisions. It’s not a perfect system, but it does reduce the number of opinions to a manageable figure, and that’s why I like keeping a group of representatives for advice.

For example, I lead the Dundee & Angus region of National Novel Writing Month. This a challenge to write a 50,000-word novel in November, and we also meet up unofficially all year round. There are 520 members who have our region as their home region, but only 1% to 2% come regularly to meetings.

Most day-to-day issues can be solved by speaking to my co-lead, yet the input of the members is particularly valuable in the months leading up to the November challenge.

In those 30 days, we’re required to arrange a launch party, a ‘Thank Goodness It’s Over’ party, and to encourage members to donate money and/or buy merchandise. On our own initiative, we arrange two meetings per week instead of the usual one, we make sure we’re contactable online and by phone, and we tell members how to protect their physical and mental health during the challenge. And on top of that, we’re all trying to reach the 50,000-word goal.

Thanks to this level of involvement with the co-lead and the active members, it’s been a joy to manage this region each year.

 

 

Advertisements

Further To…

As National Novel Writing Month draws to a close, I thought I might have run out of steam by now.

English: NWP teachers at work.
English: NWP teachers at work. This photo has little relation to the entry; I just like the guy’s hat. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

On the contrary, I hit a turning point in my novel on Saturday, a remarkable 25 days into the contest. I now have a new structure that I’m pleased with, and I’m more excited than ever to commit it to paper. The downside is that the new structure incorporates little of the material I’ve already written, so what I have now is effectively a 40,000-word collection of character sketches.

It therefore looks like I’ll be continuing this project during December as I don’t want to let the momentum trail off.

What I actually planned to do in December was to turn a certain public-domain novel into a screenplay; as far as I can tell, nobody has done it before with this book. It’s waited more than one-and-a-third centuries, though, so a few more months of delay won’t make much difference.

Finally, you might remember I made an entry regarding my experience of understanding the Scots and Dundee dialects; it was called Fluent in 1½ Languages. Since then, some brainbox at the University of Abertay has shown that understanding the Dundee dialect is as good as knowing a second language.

In the Vocalzone

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been somewhat laid up with a sore throat, followed by a more general cold. If there’s one good thing to come out of this miserable period, it’s the discovery that Superdrug sells Vocalzone throat pastilles.

Fructus Momordicae, a kind of Chinese herb for...
Fructus Momordicae, a kind of Chinese herb for sore throat and raucousness. 羅漢果,用於咽喉痛、音啞。 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’d known about these for some time, particularly that singers over the years have sworn by them. I thought I’d try a box to see whether they helped, as I’ve been performing again. I’ve found they work well.

But my condition hasn’t harmed my National Novel Writing Month word counts too much. As of posting this entry yesternight, I was on par to reach 50,000 words by the end of this month, and my story currently shows no sign of slowing down.

We’re having an incredible November so far. Our members, new and regular, have launched into the contest with much enthusiasm, generating nearly 650,000 words thus far. That’s War & Peace more than 2½ times over, or a quarter of last year’s Chilcot report.

Back for More

As I’m in National Novel Writing Month mode at the moment. As such, my entries will be shorter than usual until next month.

In my podcast-style entry a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I’d been to see The Maids at The Rep in Dundee. I’d walked out at the interval as I wasn’t engaged by the first half. It’s rare that I would do that.

Dundee Rep Theatre
Dundee Rep Theatre (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

However, after independent recommendations by friends, I went back to see it on Saturday and stayed for the whole show.

What I liked is that the play didn’t tell you what to think, but presented itself unfiltered and allowed the audience to make their own interpretation. It delivered a number of genuinely surprising plot twists too. However, there was an attempt at ennui rather than action, which can be effective in the right hands, but I feel it wasn’t quite carried off here; I’d happily have cut it down to an hour.

It serves as a timely reminder about the importance of engaging the audience early in the performance, as it was ultimately worth staying until the end.

Dear Journal

This blog is currently updated every Monday at 5pm. Each entry is usually finalised a day or two beforehand, then is set up to post automatically at the allotted hour; however, I still like to check manually whether the update has worked.

This is a scan of a microfilm of the third pag...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I began this blog four years ago, it was convenient to make this check at 5pm. These days, it’s more difficult to be available at that time. So from next week, this blog will be updated every Monday at 6pm. However, as a participant and an organiser of National Novel Writing Month, I’m going to be hella busy over the next four Mondays. As such, my entries for this period will probably be short, functional affairs.

If you are taking part in the NaNoWriMo challenge, remember to take good care of your physical and mental health. In my region, Dundee & Angus, our ethos is that there’s no shame in not reaching 50,000 words, and it’s something our participants will be sick of hearing by the end of November.

It is a tough contest but it’s meant to be fun, so don’t let it overwhelm you. If it does, talk to your Municipal Liaison, or someone you trust.

Where Do You Want to Write Today?

For the last month, you might know I’ve been taking part in National Novel Writing Month as well as leading the group. I’m pleased to report I passed the 50,000-word target on 29 November.

Because the project took up so much of my time, it now feels like there’s something I should be doing, except that there isn’t. The manuscript is tucked away in a drawer, and its dawning on me that I’m free to pursue other projects. At the moment, there’s a non-urgent opinion piece I want to write, plus an idea for another novel tangentially related to the one in the drawer. That, and it’s fun to use the word tangentially.

When you’re writing to a deadline, or even if you’re not, it’s sometimes necessary to write wherever and whenever you can. I was tackling my novel at break times and lunchtimes, and sometimes in front of the TV at night. But how difficult is it to find your optimum writing spot?

English: Mist over Aberfeldy A band of mist al...
Mist over Aberfeldy A band of mist along the Tay covers Aberfeldy at dusk. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve heard about a number of authors who have cleaned out their spare room, installed a desk, ensured they have no distractions, yet went back to an old favourite spot because the created one simply wasn’t conducive to writing. I once experimented with sitting right behind the front door. There was plenty of light, the noise level wasn’t excessive, and I knew nobody was going to barge in, but something about that place made me feel uncomfortable.

These days, I do the majority of my typing while standing with my back to my bedroom window, and my laptop or Freewrite on the end of the bed. When writing by hand, I can do that in a café, on a train, or during a dull literary event trying to look like I’m avidly taking notes. I find it difficult to be in a silent place, because even the noise of the pencil or a page turning sounds like a terrible racket.

By far, though, my favourite writing place of recent times was in the town of Aberfeldy overlooking the mountains. The piece in question was my dissertation rather than fiction or poetry, but I would consider going back there if I had another big project to tackle.

The Last of The Short Measures

National Novel Writing Month ends this week, thus potentially freeing me up to make longer blog entries.

However, I woke up to the news yesterday morning that our main meeting venue – a Wetherspoon’s pub – closed permanently on Saturday night. As such, we’ll need to find a new place; this is a problem I’ve encountered before, and I’m sure it’ll work out for the best.

For the moment, I’ll leave you with a poem I wrote on the day that Donald Trump was elected. It’s called Hell’s Marksmen.

Our satire
can fire
more shells
than Hell’s
marksmen.
And when
deployed
sweetly,
can vanquish
completely.