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Getting in shape for the 3-Day Novel Contest

July 31, 2009

Here at Swordplay, we relish the end of the working week as much as the next man. But this weekend idleness will not be our fate. Instead, we are undertaking a trial run for the forthcoming 3-Day Novel Contest. This, “the world’s most notorious literary marathon”, has been going since 1977 and attracts scribes from around the globe. The task is simple: to produce “a masterwork of fiction” in 72 hours. Entrants require “adrenaline and the desire for spontaneous literary nirvana”, not to mention oodles of stamina. Writing begins at midnight on Friday night, and must stop by midnight on Monday night.

The 32nd Annual International 3-Day Novel Contest takes place on America’s Labour Day weekend, from September 5 to September 7.

As for this weekend, names of Swordplay’s denizens have been placed in a hat. The last name to be picked will be tasked with spending the weekend penning a masterpiece. He or she will be given Monday off, too, in order that the full 72 hour marathon can be experienced. Armed with the results of this experiment, Swordplay will be ready for the 3-Day Novel Contest, proper.

Meanwhile, the organisers state that preparing an outline is permissible. Here’s one we made earlier…

The Lost Weekend by Apollo Zen delves deep in the pysche of the City as its anti-hero, Warren Smorgasbord, finds himself trapped in a lift with only an old Silver Reed typewriter for company. Smorgasbord, the CEO of a major food, law and telecommunications company, finds himself compelled to write, gently, hesitantly at first, but then with increasing freneticism. Soon his fingers, wrists and elbows are aching as he unleashes tortured memory upon tortured fantasy, revealing the secrets of a life in which he has variously been a suspension bridge engineer, shipwright, playwright, copywriter, aviator, lift attendant, corruptible but uncorrupted politician and aficionado of Chelsea basements. But just as The Lost Weekend surges inexorably towards its climax the doors of the lift are wrenched open by a man holding a gun. It is at this moment that Smorgasbord realises that he will never, ever recover the weekend that was. In brutally dissonant, unabashed and honest prose, Apollo Zen reveals the the hidden impulses and inner demons of Smorgasbord, a man for whom three days in a lift represented both his apotheosis – and his nadir.

Pictured: the cover of Day Shift Werewolf by Jan Underwood, the winner of the 2005 3-Day Novel Contest.

Scattergun PR: Why It’s Rubbish (Usually)

July 30, 2009

Swordplay’s denizens work in PR. We work with journalists on a daily basis and know that bombarding them with irrelevant press releases or pushy follow up calls does no one any favours. But according to our sometime scribe, Alex Wade, there’s an awful lot of bad PR out there. Read on, as he confronts EU agricultural law, e-Recruitment and National Orgasm Day.

It’s a bright, sunny morning. What a relief after the recent deluge. I fire up my laptop and set about writing something. It’s going well and I don’t mind the insistent ‘ping’ of emails wending their way to me. I could close Outlook to avoid the intrusion of email, but I quite like the distraction, stopping writing every 15 minutes or so to see who’s emailed me and about what.

Today, though, I seem to be in receipt of an excess of poorly judged PR. Press releases which bear no relation to one’s fields of expertise are an occupational hazard and there is a very simple way of dealing with them. It involves the ‘delete’ button. But today I’m subject to an onslaught. One man’s spam may be another’s manna but given that I write about coastal matters, the law, sport, travel and art (OK, a wide brief), why am I being exhorted to take an interest in genomic medicine? I will never write about this in a million years, as is also the case for the following, all of which have come my way thanks to Scattergun PR:

1. e-Recruitment in Ireland. I’m sure this is an excellent innovation but it’s not my thing.

2. Modifications to the Subaru WRX. Subarus are great cars but I am not, have never been and am unlikely ever to be a motoring journalist.

3. Exciting news about a Saville Row tailor. Or perhaps it’s a tailor who’s not on Saville Row but should be. But doesn’t want to be, because the rents are too high. As such, he’s happy to ply his trade elsewhere. Or she is. I can’t remember and, truth to tell, I never knew. This press release was instantaneously deleted.

4. EU agricultural law and policy. Yes, I write about the law, but usually with a media slant. Have I ever written about agricultural law? No. Will I ever write about agricultural law? No.

5. National Orgasm Day. An organisation which makes sex toys asks that we all say ‘Yes!’ tomorrow, it being National Orgasm Day. I didn’t know that National Orgasm Day looms, and though this is of course good news I do wonder whether writing about it is quite my thing.

Then again, who knows? Perhaps one of my editors might go for a feature? Maybe I’d better give this one some thought. I retrieve the deleted press release and discover that “If more people said yes to their partner rather than making excuses, we would actually be a more relaxed nation as sex is actually a stress buster and releases endorphins to the brain.” Elsewhere I learn that the recession and women wanting to have it all are “key factors in people’s waning libidos.”

Hmmm. Is there a story here? Can I ignore the lacklustre prose and needless repetition of the word ‘actually’ in favour of pitching a piece on National Orgasm Day?

Er, no. Someone, somewhere will go for this as a story, but I can’t see it in my Times column or as a law piece, or anywhere else for that matter. It only remains to trust that National Orgasm Day is everything it hopes to be – and to read the press releases which are relevant to my work. Talking of which, perhaps I’ll close Outlook after all.

Pictured courtesy of ArtflDodger: a painting of a woman moaning with despair at the idea that anyone would ever legitimise ‘National Orgasm Day’.

Top Lawyer Jokes

July 30, 2009

Lawyer jokes – you’ve gotta love ‘em. Here, as Jojo contemplates a lightbulb (courtesy of Doll Doll), are some of the best.

1. Lawyers and Lightbulbs.

How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?

How many can you afford?

2. Lawyers and Used Car Salesmen.

What are lawyers for?

They make used car salesmen look good.

3. Lawyers and Terrorism.

What did the terrorist who hi-jacked a plane full of lawyers do?

He threatened to release one every hour if his demands weren’t met.

4. Lawyers and Sharks.

Why won’t sharks attack lawyers?

Professional courtesy.

5. Lawyers and Hell.

What do you get when you cross a lawyer with a demon from hell?

Another lawyer.

6. Lawyers and Social Functions.

A doctor and a lawyer were at a party when a man approached the doctor and asked for some advice about a heart condition. After mumbling some helpful words, the doctor turned to the lawyer and said: “How do you handle being asked for professional advice at social functions?” The lawyer replied: “Just send the bill for the advice.”

Next morning the doctor issued a $50 bill to the man with the heart condition. The same day he received a $100 bill from the lawyer.

7. Lawyers and Drink Driving.

Late one night, on a deserted road, two cars both slightly cross over the white line in the centre of the road. They collide. There is extensive damage, but neither driver is hurt. They both get out. One of the drivers is a doctor, while the other is a lawyer. The lawyer calls the police on his mobile and learns they’ll be on the scene in 20 minutes. It’s cold and damp, and both men are shaken up. The lawyer offers the doctor a drink of brandy from his hip flask, the doctor accepts, drinks thirstily and hands it back to the lawyer, who puts it away.

Aren’t you also going to have a drink? the doctor says.

“After the police arrive,” says the lawyer.

8. Lawyers and Lawyer Jokes.

What’s wrong with lawyer jokes?

Lawyers don’t think they’re funny – and nobody else thinks they’re jokes.

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