lawkit volume two: open for business

About this time last year, in a space somewhere between frustration and a lightbulb, this blog featured an article subtitled, 'A Call To Arms'. Initially, this author had intended to continue venting his spleen that he had somehow failed to wake up one morning to a world where he worked in the Bartlet White House.

(And with phrase composition as clumsy as that, I clearly demonstrate just one of the many reasons such a reality has yet to materialise.)

In an effort to placate a personal desire to write something a bit longer than the typical blog post, I had conceived that I could legitimise this effort by roping in others with similar yearnings. A lot of us do not like to sit down and write for writing's sake. And that's fair enough: I don't like motorbike racing.

I put out an open call, particularly to an immediate circle across Facebook and Twitter, for articles, with an open remit for content. Requesting only that they adhere to a rough style guide, and I suppose common decency, potential contributors were given free rein to write on any topic under the sun.

Which is actually more difficult that it might sound. What do you write about when the page is completely blank? When I was in the midst of teacher training, one of the axioms held about English teaching is that it's classroom suicide to give unprepared pupils a blank page and no topic. Not because they'll write something unsuitable: but rather, because the majority will struggle to just choose a subject.


I don't know if that axiom holds true, by the way. And certainly, the responders for the first four issues of The Lawkit, published during 2011 (before time constraints took over in this parish) seemed to sometimes indicate otherwise. In their pages, we covered modern history, football, live music, recipes, political and personal identity, James Bond, and safety when moshing. And these are just the tip of the iceberg.

We had someone describing their mundane desire to get out more.

We had someone else describing the moment they held rubble from Hiroshima in the palm of their hand.

One year on from those initial musings, I am hoping that the time is right to get stuck in to Volume 2. On the editing and publishing side, I hope it was obvious that we improved and tightened the standard of the publication as we went along. We kept everything as open and free-to-use as possible; it was important that The Lawkit could circulate and spread online, unhindered by any questions over a random image that might have come from the BBC website, for example. We also learn a lot about journal and magazine layout as we went along, and hopefully that shows by Number Four. Volume Two should build on this: we have a little brand and identity in the mix now that we like; now it's over to you.

And so, here is the call. Join us in writing something about anything. It could be a page, it could be six. The topic is up to you. If you're stuck, you can read - or reread - the previous issues for inspiration, and maybe to get a feel for the type of thing we go for. But please, think outside the box. Themes always seem to emerge for each issue, so if you're really stuck don't hesitate to ask - but challenge yourself first to see how far you get.

How many times have you heard someone tell a story which seems extraordinary to you, but completely normal to them? Those are one type of story we'd like to hear, for example. But if you would rather write about a personal interest, or respond to something that's in the public arena or currently on your mind, that's also what we're after.

Or maybe you just want to give off about Ryanair. That's ok too. (Though Paul's maybe conclusively covered that one already in Number Two.)

All the previous issues also contain that rough Contributor's Guide I mentioned. We may tweak that in the future, and if that happens before the next issue is published, it will appear here on this humble blog.

What are you waiting for? Fingers at the ready...

thorny topics

Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Watterson

There's a blog post which will land here at the start of next week which will return us to the conversation about the desire to write. I have to admit, that's a desire which is, in a way, being heavily slaked at the moment.

Like all folk who serve with the backing of others, we undertook to frequently report back throughout our year living and working in Niger. In addition, what with my role as communications coordinator, coupled with, you know, always banging on about writing stuff, it seemed like a good time to show up and deliver for once. So, we pledged to blog at least weekly, and also write something longer and prayer-orientated for our signed-up supporters on a monthly basis.

Now there's the usual pitfalls for sure. What seemed remarkable a month ago already has lost the air of noteworthiness; an element of the nothing-really-happened-this-week sits heavy on fatigued imaginations from time to time.

However, all of this week I have been attempting, and failing, to cross a pothole of a different breed. The things you want to write about, but can't. Or the things you would like to describe, but fail to.

I'll explain what I mean, but firstly let me flag that I'm not referring here to some massive conspiracy to cover up truth! I'll start from another angle.

As aliens in this environment, we see and come across things that we have literally never seen before. We do things that we have never done before at a frequency significantly higher than we would experience in our natural habitat. Like poking a chameleon, for example. Today I poked a chameleon, and picked a little at the dead skin on his back. (More on that over on DesertHueys later, I would imagine!) One does not see a lot of chameleons where I grew up in Mid Ulster.

There's a political metaphor there if you happen to be feeling a bit waggish, but we'll move on.

There's also shocking things, naturally. In one of the least developed countries in the world (I've lost track, is Niger back at second or third worst?) there's no shortage of upsetting sights and sounds. And describing them is the problem. In fact, it's a problem which has held up my writing of our e-mail update for this month all week.

In this case, it's traditional healers. That's what I want to write about. Traditional - i.e. local - medicine is encountered daily by the doctors working here. I want to write a respectful, understanding piece for our friends and family back home, describing some experiences around that. I perceive it to be a very sensitive topic. I could write in stark terms and short brushstrokes - there's a lot to tell.

But across all those cultural divides, how do you write about these things and complete avoid a blindly critical tone? How do you avoid saying something is plainly right or wrong?

Maybe you don't. Maybe that's the problem, and maybe that's what I'm afraid to say. But the mission we work for is bigger, older and more important than us. And if burying vitriol until a reasonable discourse can be produced instead is the key to preserving such things, that's the way it has to be.

These thorny topics produce difficulties for aid NGOs all the time. Our communications manuals are full of them. It's not political correctness per say; but the problem is that so much of our work is based around mutual respect, goodwill, and relational ministry. You can't do that if you're impersonally criticising left, right and centre. You don't bring cake to the dinner party, and then slag off the undersized main meal. The difficulty for us is to find a way to lovingly - and usually, painstakingly slowly - build a relationship to a point where friends can be honest with each other.

All to say, I probably owe an apology, available to anyone who may have strayed from DesertHueys over to here, as to why you didn't receive an e-mail update in February. One is coming very soon. The luxury we have is that our deadlines are flexible, and I'm working this one just a little longer.

how to write

Readers of our Niger blog might be surprised to know that I feel a certain amount of writer's block at the moment. (On closer inspection, you might realise why I've suddenly converted to photo blogging!) It is, however, with some sense of irony that I've realised in the past couple of days that despite now being in a post for the year where writing is a key tenet, my recent attempts are feeling less than satisfying.

I would show some examples to illustrate this, but then you might lose the impression that I'm a literary genius, and we can't have that.

In my mild angst (you can only be so angst-y when the daily temperature is thirty degrees warmer than your body is used to) I have sought relief at a oft-visited source - the delightful blog Letters of Note, which daily publishes a piece of correspondance that is... well, noteworthy. A recent highlight which I tweeted a few days back was this wondrous reply from the American author E.B. White - he of Charlotte's Web and The Elements of Style fame - on behalf of his dog to the ASPCA. Joyful stuff.

Anyway, I discovered yesterday that the curator, Shaun Usher, recently also opened Lists of Note, which is exactly what it sounds like. And recently, there have been two posts on the subject of writing - both of which I'm quoting below, with no credit taken at all.

First was the great Henry Miller's 11 Commandments:

Work on one thing at a time until finished.
Start no more new books, add no more new material to "Black Spring."
Don't be nervous. Work calmly, joyously, recklessly on whatever is in hand.
Work according to Program and not according to mood. Stop at the appointed time!
When you can't create you can work.
Cement a little every day, rather than add new fertilizers.
Keep human! See people, go places, drink if you feel like it.
Don't be a draught-horse! Work with pleasure only.
Discard the Program when you feel like it—but go back to it next day. Concentrate. Narrow down. Exclude.
Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.
Write first and always. Painting, music, friends, cinema, all these come afterwards.

This morning, whilst relocating the Miller post, I noticed that today's post is also about writing. Manhattan advertising overlord David Ogilvy sent a memo in 1982 to his employees:

The better you write, the higher you go in Ogilvy & Mather. People who think well, write well.

Woolly minded people write woolly memos, woolly letters and woolly speeches.

Good writing is not a natural gift. You have to learn to write well. Here are 10 hints:

1. Read the Roman-Raphaelson book on writing*. Read it three times.
2. Write the way you talk. Naturally.
3. Use short words, short sentences and short paragraphs.
4. Never use jargon words like reconceptualize, demassification, attitudinally, judgmentally. They are hallmarks of a pretentious ass.
5. Never write more than two pages on any subject.
6. Check your quotations.
7. Never send a letter or a memo on the day you write it. Read it aloud the next morning—and then edit it.
8. If it is something important, get a colleague to improve it.
9. Before you send your letter or your memo, make sure it is crystal clear what you want the recipient to do.
10. If you want ACTION, don't write. Go and tell the guy what you want.

David

*Writing That Works, by Kenneth Roman and Joel Raphaelson

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Back to work, I guess. I have ideas and half-scribbled notes for several articles that all four readers of this particular parish may be interested in, but even though I now have (more) time - being in sub-saharan Africa, without a direct phone line - the block has so far struck hard. However, the above inspiration has maybe loosened a few cogs, even if only for a little while...

lawkit: issue one available now

From today, you can download or view your own personal copy of the Lawkit from the shiny new (minimalist) website.

It's deliberately published as a PDF. The layout is minimalist but key. This isn't a blog. It's not a cobbled together list of bullet points. Lawkit is centred on the written content, and it is given priority on every page.

I'll be blunt - I'm spectacularly proud of those who contributed effort to the launch issue. Ever since I appealed for contributions a little over a fortnight ago (the lawkit: a call to arms, March 22nd), more than enough people stepped up to the plate, each not really fully knowing what they were getting themselves in to but more than happy to be a part of it.

And what a result. I'm not going to give much away here, but despite having read, re-read and edited all the text content previously, I still sat down for a full read-through this morning and was still gobsmacked. And so, a few thanks to the contributors for Issue One: Andrew Neill, who was first to submit; Jonny Kirk, who produced a piece with exactly the tone we've come to expect from his writing, and on a subject dearly close to his heart which shines throughout; the indefatigable Graeme Smyth, who applied his unique style to great effect (if you know GS, then you will find reading him akin to listening to him pontificating splendidly); and Matt Gamble, who's article was, I'll admit, an easy choice for the front cover - and which, the first time he recounted the anecdote to me, completely blew me away.

And of course, the biggest thanks go to David Lowry, frequently of this parish, for pulling it all together, not to mention hosting the blooming thing. Top notch.

OF COURSE, this is just the start. Now we've done One, we must do Two. And anyone can contribute. See the back couple of pages of the current issue for the necessary information - there's not much to it!

Most of all - please enjoy. This is (hopefully) just the beginning.

the lawkit: a call to arms

Interested in writing - about anything at all?

Two weeks ago (in Carried Along, March 10th 2011) I mentioned a desire to write more. It's been bugging me since.

When I was at school, I pestered a teacher to let me publish a newsletter aimed at our SU. The idea was I'd gather up three or four people every now and again and get them to write something meaningful. Then I'd pull it altogether in a Microsoft Word template, slap in some clip art, and get it photocopied en mass. It would be a bit of reading material for the bus home, would cost nothing to produce, and would maybe even offer a pause for thought.

Then, second or third issue in, the whole thing nearly got pulled after, for badness, I wrote a lengthly editorial questioning seven day creationism (which came straight after a lovely mild-mannered contribution from our headmaster.) I was harangued by a few peers, clearly distressed at my ability to think independently.... no, I'm winding. Although, encouraging, the aforementioned teacher grinned mildly and let me carrying on publishing for the best part of two years.

I have never lost the hunger for writing or editing. Although I ended up focusing on directing photography and editing, my initial drive for studying film at degree level was to write. One of the best parts of studying the day release couse this year has been the chance to write. And so, in the kind of epiphany one can only have spacing out in a lecture (no reflection on the lecture itself, mind) I had an idea, and the Lawkit was conceived.

The idea is to publish, initially online, a journal featuring concise-ish articles about Life As We Know It (hence, Lawkit). I'm looking for articles, reviews, thoughts, testimonials, essays, whatever. And they can be about anything...

...as long as you are passionate about it. For example: politics, entertainment, music, film, science, technology, faith, life, mild musings - whatever. 300-3000 words on something you think is important. Maybe something you hate. Maybe something you think others should find out about. It could be something you write in a few minutes or a few hours. It could be "Why You Don't Need An iPad to Function." Or "Why People Should Care More About Sheep." Or even "Why University is Pointless." How about "Why Lionel Messi is Just a Poor Man's Andrei Kanchelskis." Tell me.

Now, Google Analytics tells me a fair number of people are still reading this blog several years on. I even have a notion who a few of you are. And any of you could write something. The presentation won't be smashing - I'm not claiming much talent as a graphic designer at all - but if there's one thing I've learnt in life, it's that everyone has something to say. And with a little effort, we can collectively get it to an interested audience.

Tweet me @mediatree, or e-mail me for more info. Let's make it happen.

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EDIT: Read the Lawkit Contributor's Guide for more inspiration.

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carried along

We got married a fortnight ago, and it's been understandably crazy since. In the midst of it all (it's still going on in it's own way, to a certain extent) I've been sitting working to try and finish off a paper on the theology of work. Ironically, much of this has been done today in the Box42 office, the most peaceful place I could find to work as my coworkers are both out and about. And a pleasant distraction from that, for the five minutes I'm allowing myself, is to contemplate writing topics for the future.

Whilst we were away in Florence for a pretty fantastic honeymoon (even managed to get to the Odeon Firenze twice - The King's Speech in a cavernous theatre was quite brilliant) one of the topics of conversation was writing. I am a big writer, scribbler, whatever. I would believe that the vast majority of it is absolute pap, which is conveyed somewhat in the fact that my blogging, for example, is less than frequent - keeping to a regular one a week for the last few months has been struggle enough. Not, I suppose, that there wasn't anything to share, but rather my usual terror that it's nothing but psychobabble. Which, if you were to spend a couple of moments in our office, listening to me mumble my way through the narration of a morning's e-mails, for example, you would probably appreciate all the more.

But I do love to write. And so, whilst getting carried along by all the palaver of the last few weeks, I am starting to slump down the other side and considering making one of the aspects of this new chapter.... to write.

But what... to write?

express/dunblane petition

It doesn't take long for me to tell anyone about my own derogatory opinion of The Daily Express. [But basically, at least The Sunday Sport is only insulting in a one-dimensional way.] However, as this considered bit of writing by Graham Linehan (of Ted, Black Books, I.T. Crowd and so forth) lays out, they have, as he said, 'won the race to the bottom'. Linehan is supporting and expanding on a campaign to protect survivors of the horrific Dunblane atrocity from being apparent press fodder for the rest of their lives - something an Express journalist appears to disagree with as she manipulated and stalked former pupils to write this particular piece of sub-literary dreck. I heavily recommend reading his piece and then seriously considering the wider implications of his argument. A murderous lunatic shot at these young people whenever they were too young to even understand what was going on: this does not make them open to scrutiny for the rest of their lives.

If you are not convinced, consider this updated comment which Linehan has recognised here:

This campaign has to succeed. If not, the road ahead for these kids just got a lot darker. The Sunday Express has served notice that the downmarket stalker press considers them fair game for the rest of their lives. Whatever successes they enjoy will be trumped up as being down to their hardy survivor spirit, and whatever failures they endure will be chalked up to the psychological damage of the shooting. Their sadnesses will be exploited as “heartbreak for tragic Dunblane victim”. You can just see the headlines now, and for decades to come. If the media gets the message right here right now that these kids are not fair game for lifelong exploitation because they happened to be in one room for one hour aged five, they can continue to live normal lives. Who knows, some of the papers might even have to go dig up real stories, not manufacture the problem.”

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blocked up

Had sketch idea. Laughed for a prolonged period of time. Been trying to come up with a single line of monologue for quite some time now. I'm not someone often stricken with writer's block, but it seems to be happening.

Right now.

recorded at my expense

Just realised the irony of finally sitting down and watching Neil Jordan's Michael Collins on the eleventh night... once again, Alan Rickman is amazing in full-on bastard mode as Dev, and that justifies the whole endeavour (Irish bastard, German bastard, wizard bastard, outlaw-bashing bastard... is there no level of bastardy he can't achieve? Apart from Love, Actually obviously... and he still nearly managed it!)

Few (especially notable) ropey moments: Julia Roberts clearly speaking with an American accent; all the outdoor scenes being shot on the one street (bar GPO and Four Courts, obviously); them managing to shoehorn in just about every single (future, at the time!) Ballykissangel cast member, but inexplicably exclude the magnificent acting talents of Liam and Donal!; complete fiction for the last twenty minutes (other than, obviously, Collins was shot in Cork - the county is right!). All these things and more are enhanced when you watch it with your mother, and she happens to be an irish woman with a Masters in History from TCD who teaches this stuff at all three Key Stages... so you get an extra commentary track with all the sly comments and observations. Though as the second bottle of red was opened, this did make way to comments in tandem with my opening paragraph (but aimed at actual Dev more than Rickman-being-Dev...).

There was, however, also the relation of a pretty horrific anecdote I hadn't heard before, about one of the Catholic workers from her mother's homestead being taken out by the black-and-tans, stood against the wall outside the chapel, and shot as an example - his house was picked at random. Even Alan might have shirked at that.

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Should really be in bed by now, but after a very long day I had one of those cider-and-kitkat-induced moments of inspiration, and wrote the lyrics for a melody line that's been bugging me for the last week. It's not a bad song in itself, but it does have one frightening aspect - more folk/rocky music. Emo is becoming a distant shadow, perhaps... maybe not yet.

Trying to work out if it would be legal to hold a (small) gig in our hayshed. Hell, it's big enough and we've got enough power sources... you'd have to bring your own bottle, though. Watch this space.