One of my newly found cinematic guilty pleasures is the 1998 romantic comedy Sliding Doors. Starring Gwyneth Paltrow and John Hannah, it details the life of PR representative Helen after she catches, or misses, a train. It is that classic ‘what if’ scenario we have all become accustomed to thinking about throughout our lives. What if I’d met that person? What if I’d got that job? What if I’d gone on that holiday? Even people who haven’t seen the film - and it’s a real treat - use the phrase ‘Sliding Doors’ in full knowledge of what it means.
Counterfactuals are therefore an intrinsic part of the way humans think. However much we are advised to live in the present and focus on the future, returning to the past - our past, that of our family, society as a whole - will never go away. Is it any wonder history documentaries and films remain so popular? Though being a nostalgist is a term often used pejoratively, looking back into the past to imagine a better, alternative future will perhaps always be a permanent part of the human condition. Counterfactuals are just as common within politics. In democratic societies at least, it’s perfectly possible to imagine the alternative outcome of general elections, leadership elections, votes in Parliament. When there is a small majority in particular, or a vote was crucially tight, it’s natural to imagine how an alternative possibility could have unfolded. Such accounts can be told as scholarly pieces of academic analysis, involving referencing and points of history to imagine what could have occurred. Or they can be fictional fantasy tales, taking the reader into the heart of the action, imagining the dialogue and state of mind of different characters. * I suppose my first proper introduction to political counterfactuals was purchasing ‘Prime Minister Corbyn…and other things that never happened’ in July 2017. This was an important period of my life for many reasons. I had just finished my GCSEs, so had a long summer ahead with no academic compulsory work. For the first time in over 12 years, I didn’t have to wake up early five days a week to attend school. I could be at home, in town, wherever I liked during the school day and not be ‘bunking off’. This period therefore dramatically increased my independence. Instead of going into the city of Cambridge with family, I would journey into town myself, spending hours browsing Waterstones and Blackwells. Travelling on a weekday, it was naturally quiet, something which I loved. It felt like the shop was all for me. This was further exacerbated by the political section being right on the top floor, up three flights of stairs. There was nobody about. With no doubt numerous Christmas and possibly birthday book vouchers to spend, ‘Prime Minister Corbyn…’ was one of the books I chose to invest in. It was small, A5 hardback, with an intriguing cover of Jeremy himself looking rather flummoxed and dishevelled outside that famous black door. At the time, Corbyn was at the height of his popularity, performing rather better in the 2017 general election than anyone would have expected. May’s government appeared weak - as it would for the rest of her time in office - and I wondered just how long that title would remain a counterfactual! One of many chapters with intriguing premises, I decided to give it a read. It is a volume that has stayed with me, not least as it was one of the first political books I remember buying before my politics A-level. As time went on, it become clear that both Prime Minister Corbyn would remain a counterfactual and that there were other volumes available to purchase. I’m not sure I ever did purchase them (at time of writing) but I was at least aware of their existence. In the back of my mind was also the knowledge that politics never stops. As events unfold, more possible counterfactuals are, by the very nature of politics, created. * We then spring forward to February 2020. I’m in my second term of university, blissfully unaware of lockdown in just over a month’s time. Lectures are in-person, social distancing is non-existent, I’m desperately trying to find a house for my second year. Everything is just so normal. Brexit has just occurred, Boris Johnson has been re-shuffling his top team and coronavirus is very much something happening elsewhere. Or so we thought. Two things simultaneously took place. In one of my university modules, we spent a week looking at the value, if any, of counterfactuals in political research. Some of Duncan and Iain’s edited books were on the reading list, along with other thoughtful contributions imagining the small circumstances it would take for political events to be so different. I found that week especially engaging and deeply thought-provoking for exploring what hadn’t factually taken place. At the same time, the LBC presenter Iain Dale tweeted that himself and Duncan Brack were to edit a new volume of counterfactuals and individuals could submit ideas via his website. A number quickly sprung into mind and I thought there would be no harm in sending some over, not least if it could help spark some inspiration for their authors. I submitted some suggestions about a different result in the 2020 Irish elections which had just occurred, Jess Phillips winning the Labour leadership (she’d just dropped out) and Theresa May’s Brexit Withdrawal Agreement passing Parliament. After all, who could forget that it had failed three times and that it was Boris Johnson’s Brexit vision which had eventually succeeded? I had very little expectation that I myself would be asked to write a chapter. Books were things written by other people that I enjoyed reading. While I could muster up an article or two full of strong opinions, that was quite different from constructing a chapter of many thousands of words. I remember the exact date Duncan Brack emailed me asking whether I wanted to write one of the chapters I suggested. It was Sunday 15th March 2020. I had just returned home from university for the Easter break, still naively thinking I would return to university for the summer term. Reader, for obvious reasons, that did not happen. Of the chapter titles I’d suggested, I felt most confident writing about Brexit and a Withdrawal Agreement passing. While others had grown tired of Brexit by 2019, I found the whole process, learning more about the European Union, gripping and tantalising. Thinking of a proposal very much on the spur of the moment (and you’ll have to read the book to find out my proposition!) I emailed off an idea at exactly 11pm that evening, expecting to hear nothing. * For a long while, the counterfactual and my email proposal mostly escaped my mind. The world changed forever and the whole of society was coping with a virus we knew next to nothing about. With four essays to submit, I through myself into writing articles, presenting a radio show, attending online Zoom meetings, watching lots of films and trying to escape the horror show society was experiencing. Writing the chapter was therefore not my lockdown project, by and large. It was at the end of August 2020, just as I was about to move to Leamington for the autumn term to commence, that I received a counterfactual related email. Though coronavirus was still in the news, it felt like the pandemic was largely over. Again reader, little was I to know. I was told my basic chapter idea had been accepted and asked whether I could write a 5,000 word first draft by 1st February 2021. I accepted immediately, but didn’t tell anyone. It didn’t feel real to imagine that my writing could be in a book. As the counterfactual writing guide made clear, our first drafts could be rejected if they seemed wildly implausible or contained too many factual errors. I therefore did a lot of planning to decide what the chain of events would be and how my entry, told as a story, would seem a realistic alternative history. The process demonstrated that the bedrock of writing a counterfactual is understanding what did take place. Only by understanding the moments of history that unfolded is it possible to even begin altering them. Researching Brexit and those meaningful votes in the midst of a second wave did seem slightly bizarre and insignificant, but I recognised that, hopefully, putting the work and research in now would make the writing and re-drafting, if necessary, easier. * I am not generally one for believing in signs, ghosts or spirits. I’m a proud humanist and have little time for the supernatural. For me, a programme like Ghost Hunters, if it is to be watched at all, is something to view with derision. However, there is no doubt that there were two events which, if not decided, at least catalysed my writing of the first draft, which I always knew would be the hardest part. Starring at a blank page is something which strikes terror into any writer’s heart, aspiring or experienced. Firstly, our student internet was slightly intermittent in those September weeks. Thankfully, it was before term started, but internet, like many things, is something you only truly appreciate when it isn’t fully working. It meant I had less time to procrastinate on Facebook and twitter to avoid doing any pre-university work or indeed, plan my counterfactual. Even though 1st February 2021 seemed an age away, I knew the date would arrive very suddenly and unexpectedly. Most of the planning I did by hand in a brown notebook. On one occasion, I was working away in a cafe (which thankfully happened to have wifi) making use of it and writing counterfactual plans. After returning home, I realised I’d mislaid my notebook. This was a nightmare, the equivalent of pouring coffee over your laptop the night before submitting unsaved essays. All of my planning was in there. It was also unlike me as I’m not usually one to lose things (touch wood). Trying to remain rational and not imagine all of my hopes had gone out the window, I retraced my steps, thinking where I had been in Leamington. As it happens, I’d left the notebook in the cafe loo (whoops!) which I quickly retrieved, all the pages intact. While I’m aware this reads like a counterfactual, such farce in the writing process genuinely took place. The combination of a potentially permanently lost notebook of information combined with dodgy internet made me realise I needed to just write a first draft. It could be awful, utterly dire but there would at least be something to work with. And so that was what I did. For seven hours solidly, hearing aids out, distractions gone, I wrote a first draft. As it happens, the internet returned while I was writing, meaning a full first draft could have probably been completed in far shorter a period of time. Constantly referring to my notes, I tried to create a counterfactual that was realistic, engaging and one I would genuinely want to read. After it was written, I was mentally and physically exhausted, despite sitting down all day. I rewarded myself by making sure the draft was saved and watching two films (Journeyman and Night Moves, if you’re interested). What followed from this was three weeks of re-editing. Though Brack and Dale are the ultimate editors of the volume, I wanted to try and make their lives easier by doing as much of the self-editing as possible. I’d like to think my university essays played a role here. Even though my entry is not academic, being more concise in my writing is something I’ve always tried to improve. Replacing four words where one could do was immensely satisfying. At the same time, there was ample double checking of my ideas, statistics and justification for the counterfactual. Typos and factual errors are an important, but minor, part of the editing process. The story has to contain pace, energy and, though it’s the biggest cliché in the book, make the reader want to continue to the end of the chapter. I tried my best to achieve this, went over and over the chapter far more times than I care to remember, before realising that the chapter needed a second and third pair of eyes. It was that point that I sent it off to Duncan, in all the formats possible, to see his verdict. * The first drafts were reviewed by number of different contributors, at least one of whom would be an expert in the field. Again, this was why I gave so much weight to trying to ensure my points were accurate and didn’t deviate too dramatically from what had happened. Nonetheless, having written the chapter, I found the wait for feedback tense. It would be a real judgement on my work - this is no bad thing. Artistic judgement is one of the most important freedoms in a democratic society. That being so, criticism, even when immensely constructive and valuable, was something I still found daunting. The feedback eventually appeared in my inbox at the start of February 2021. Where I had entirely written the first draft of my counterfactual in Leamington, I was currently working from home, attending university online during the third lockdown. Naturally, the dynamics would be different. I must say that the feedback from the reviewers was immensely useful, helpful and necessary. Again, for fear of plot spoilers, I don’t want to go into too much detail on the specific nature of feedback, but parts included ensuring I didn’t take knowledge for granted, justifying my explanation of events and not going over the top on dialogue! The film critic Mark Kermode argued that excellent film criticism is crafted with brilliant editors. That is no different with political writing. I was so pleased not to have received an out and out rejection after my first draft. It had promise, but I was aware there was plenty of work to do. That was a challenge I was willing to undertake - after all, I had come this far. Using their advice, I spent two and a half weeks re-writing and re-editing the counterfactual. I’d have two Pages documents open simultaneously - one with the original counterfactual and the other with my amended version. Throughout, I tried to make sure I was following the advice and guidance of the reviewers. Repeatedly, I looked through every point they had made and tried to ensure there was a necessary change. I tried to re-emphasise the arguments and narratives of my counterfactual, exploring why I believed events would unfold in a particular way. Where I had made changes, I aimed to justify why I had done so and what value this added to the counterfactual. This, by the way, was all done without the knowledge of my family or anyone else. I didn’t disclose anything until it was officially going to happen. To get my hopes and those of my family up before having them dashed would have been so demoralising, frustrating and just saddening. When re-editing, I went through every page and sentence with a fine tooth comb. Doing so, I remembered that this was just for one chapter. Imagine if I was writing the whole book?! I had tried to do my best. Yet I realised it might not be enough. Brack and Dale only had limited space in their volume, they, perfectly naturally, wanted only the highest quality of chapters and scenarios. I recognise that failure is an important part of development - Elizabeth Day’s ‘How to Fail’ podcast is one of my favourites precisely because of the honesty and willingness of different guests to open up. But often, those guests have gone through failure to reach immense triumph and success. Being published in this book would be my first big break. To go through such effort of drafting, re-drafting and editing, only to have it taken away would have been a rejection I’m not quite how I’d have coped with. After pressing send on the second draft at the end of February, there was little more I could do but wait. * It was on 13th May 2021, at the height of exam season, that I learnt my chapter had been accepted. I am unlikely to forget that feeling any time soon. I had to read and reread the email a couple of times, just to check I had interpreted it correctly. I was stunned more than anything, to realise writing on my computer would in the not too distant future appear in a book, an actual printed book. Duncan later explained they had taken a while to make a final decision due to having so many chapters on Brexit! They had to be clear and distinct from one another to make sure the book was interesting. I waited over a month to tell anyone, mainly because of exam season. Even though I was, and remain, beyond chuffed and grateful, I had assignments that also required my focus and the best attention I could give them. Instead of being assignments I could spend weeks crafting, they were online exams, each question to be written in less than an hour. It was quite the contrast. It is both amazing how quick and slow the book process can be, no doubt regardless of the genre or publishers. I imagine dealing with 23 separate authors was quite the challenge, so it is deeply admirable that Duncan Brack and Iain Dale have willingly done repeatedly to offer new writers a chance. Yet, from the moment I learnt the chapter had been accepted, everything else has taken place rather quickly. I had a final chance to look through a Word document of the chapter, offering any corrections or edits I wanted to make. The document has been edited by both Duncan Brack and Lucy Stewardson from Biteback, demonstrating that everyone wanted to ensure the chapter was as perfect as possible. This was a very valuable experience, as we spotted some factual errors that could have otherwise slipped through the net. Far better to spot what needs changing before, rather than after, publication day! This allowed a final examination of the text beforehand. Similarly, I was able to see the chapter as it will appear in the book with brilliant font and formatting - that was an experience and a half. Now, we are in the promotional stage. I am only one of roughly 23 authors involved with the text, but if I can do my bit to spread the book’s reach and encourage people to purchase it, that is something I am very happy, indeed honoured, to be part of. Promoting the book on social media after a year of secrecy was quite the experience and made for a deeply memorable evening. I feel very lucky, privileged and honoured to have involved with this project. To have gone from buying a political counterfactual in July 2017 to, four years later in July 2021, be a part of a counterfactual is a moment even my past self at its most confident stage would have struggled to believe. For all the hours of research, writing, editing and crafting the text, it’s easy to forget just how much fun it is creating an alternative version of history. I do hope, in this present version of history in the near future, you consider pre-ordering ‘Prime Minister Priti…and other things that never happened’ to judge my counterfactual, along with all the others, for yourself. You won’t regret it. ‘Prime Minister Priti…and other things that never happened’ can be pre-ordered here: https://www.bitebackpublishing.com/books/prime-minister-priti
1 Comment
CK
19/6/2021 18:24:37
This is great article Noah
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