My Dumbest NaNoWriMo Idea of All Time

I wasn't going to do National Novel Writing Month this year. I had too much work. I had to study. I couldn't think of a good idea. The Dialectics Society kept doing stuff that sounded more fun than trying to come up with a decent plot. I was not going to let myself do NaNo this year. I lasted about four days.

If you haven't heard of National Novel Writing Month, it's more like International Novel Writing Month now. I think it started in America. Basically, you try to write either a 50,000 word novel, a more than 50,000 word novel, or 50,000 words of a novel in the 30 days that make up November. I started on the 4th this year...

On the afternoon of the 4th, I sat down to do some work for my English Lit seminar the next day. This week I was set my favourite English Lit seminar task so far. I was asked to rewrite the first prologue in 'Romeo and Juliet' as Shakespeare's great great great etc granddaughter would have written it.

Well, I took the fact that the theatre was a popular mode of entertainment in all sects of society at that time and ran with it. So here I present what sparked my NaNo idea this year, the cheesy teenage dystopian fiction parody of 'Romeo and Juliet':

(Note: The society I describe somehow manages to be an ultra-authoritarian system attempting to simulate libertarianism (???) )

"When you’re fourteen, they Assign you. The moment the clock ticks over to midnight, your Chip lights up and you Activate. If it flashes red, you’re a Capulet. If it flashes blue, you’re a Montague. Nobody is scared, or surprised. Nobody can remember Before. You’re taught from birth that competition is healthy. You’re taught to solve any problem by splitting into two teams – one red, one blue – and see who can solve it fastest. By fourteen, you understand markets like you understand your siblings. So you know that this is the way it has to be. This is the best way. You’re excited to hear that beep and rush to the mirror to see whether the back of your neck is lit up blue or red.

You leave your house that morning. You leave behind family, friends, and well … those who are more than friends. Inter-team romances never last. Everyone knows that. You’d have to be monumentally dumb to even contemplate it. Well, that’s what my friends say. I prefer to think of myself as brave."

Below is a link to the first chapter. It's in a real-time collaborative word processor and it's not my only copy, so feel free to make any suggestions as they occur to you. Just use a different colour to the rest of the text so I can see it!

http://biscuitsbatchavoy.writerfeedpad.com/72

(Yes, the short post this week is because NaNo is greedy about time.This post was going to be about feminism before NaNo happened.)

EDIT: Since I wrote this I have caught up on four days worth of missed NaNo time. I am exhausted and slept until 3pm today. Even right now though, I recommend NaNoWriMo to absolutely anyone interested in writing. It is so, so worth it. Trust me. This is my fourth year in a row putting myself through it.

What's My Age Again?

For the past few months, whenever the subject of votes for sixteen-year-olds has come up, I’ve been one of the people turned to. I’m seventeen, so I couldn’t vote in the General Election, but I was sixteen at the time of the Referendum so did vote then. If I hadn’t had the opportunity to vote, I don’t know if I’d have become interested enough in politics during the GE to join in May. I have told Tim Farron this, and he has repeated my words almost exactly in the Q&A at Federal Conference. I am satisfied that there will not be another election that affects me that I won’t be able to vote in.

So, although I’m not eighteen until February, I figured this was an end to it. Then I moved into Glasgow. It’s only been a problem twice, but it’s just been loaded with irony. I can’t get into places. The first time was the Dialectics pub crawl and I tried to get into Oran Mor at about midnight. I got back to my flat that night and one of my flatmates – also seventeen – was surprised that I didn’t know under-eighteens couldn’t get into pubs after ten. The very fact that I didn’t even know this should have been a clue that I’m not likely to cause trouble in a pub.

The second time was tonight (Halloween). I went to pre-drinks at a flat shared by a couple of debaters (where I didn’t actually drink) then we headed down to Hive, which is the nightclub attached to the Glasgow University Union. Waited in the queue, dressed as a Power Ranger, then when I got to the front was told that I couldn't get in tonight. Over eighteens only. Despite the fact that I got in on Thursday and am quite possibly the most sober teenager in the entire city?

On the way home (I didn’t really feel like going anywhere else), I thought about these two things that I’m three months too young to do. The main reason usually given for the voting age is that under eighteens can’t be trusted to be responsible enough to vote with a level head. So, does that mean the reason I can’t go into a nightclub is that I can’t be trusted to be responsible? I really don’t think anyone is going to Hive tonight with the intention of being responsible.

Does it mean nothing to anyone that the thing I’ve always complained about not being able to do is vote? I was out canvassing in Blantyre this afternoon. I am educated about politics. It makes no sense that adults who vote Labour because their parents voted Labour should get to vote and I don’t. There is nothing wrong with not paying attention to politics, and there is nothing wrong with drinking, but I read about politics every day and the most I’ve ever drank is two sips of whatever Doug had on Thursday. I should be allowed to vote, and I should be allowed into Hive.