Sunday, 21 November 2010

Whose words are they, anyway?

Over on Mindfulness and Mortality, Gloria received a comment from Rupert, who always makes a good point.

Rupert tells of a celebrant (sadly one of ours, I fear), who didn't want to hand over the funeral "script" because Rupert also conducts ceremonies.

Well, of this person, I can only say - what a plonker. And this opinion is later backed up by the fact that the celebrant in question appears to have done a major cut and paste job in putting together his ceremony.

So what are the usual practices out there? Speaking for myself, I usually offer the tribute part of the script and the text of any poems or readings discussed. I don't usually offer the whole thing, mostly because it doesn't often get written that quickly. My working method is that I like to write up the tribute within a day or two of the meeting, when memory has a better chance of making up for gaps in the notes. This, I will happily send to the family (explaining that it's a first draft) in order that they can check for accuracy and tone etc.

But the rest of the ceremony, I put together (time allowing) a few days later. I like a bit of time to mull over the person I've been hearing about (while I'm doing the ironing, or similar) and try to think about what to say about life, death and the universe in relation to their lives. These thoughts may remind me of quotes, readings or poems which may be apt - Rupert makes another very valid point about using the right type of readings for the right type of people - not everyone wants Shakespeare.

And so the ceremony itself may not be put together until a little later - by which time I may also have contributions from friends and family and so can think about how best to place them. (Narrative arc, smooth flow and other such creative writing theories).

I am, of course, happy to discuss ideas with the families and to show them bits that I've written, but it's not always practical to give them a full copy of the words before the ceremony.Ideally the ceremony is written a few days before the event itself, to allow for editing, and so is still in draft stage until the day before.

The above is partly "ideal world" stuff - if there are only three days between the visit and the ceremony, then the pulling out of a finger is required, and I have to get on with it. But such ceremonies don't feel quite as polished.

I will hold my hand up and say that I, too, am a fan of the "cut and paste" function. (I tend to describe my ceremonies as "created from scratch" rather than "written from scratch").

There's a quote somewhere about the difference between plagiarism and research being the number of sources - most celebrants are magpies when it comes to finding quotes and readings. But each piece being reused is chosen for its relevance, rather than its convenience. And, at the risk of sounding immodest, I also plagiarise myself, recycling and adapting my own words, where they are right for the person concerned.

Once the ceremony is written and delivered, the words are my responsibility, but no longer my property. A hard copy is given to the family and often I will also put a copy of the transcript on CD, particularly if there are many family members, or people who are far away, to enable them to print other copies or email them where needed.

Being protective of the ceremonies that we produce is understandable, if we sweat blood to write them. But understandable is not the same as right. The words have been read publicly and nowhere does it say "(c) 2010, X Piry".

Being protective of the ceremonies that we produce, if they are largely cut and paste from other sources is just plain daft and suggests an arrogance and paranoia beyond reason.

If anyone else wants the soapbox, I think I've finished with it for now.

5 comments:

Charles Cowling said...

Ooh, let me jump onto it, XP, if I may. Just for a minute. I'm sure this is something all celebrants agonise over. Because for all that, like all celebs, when I was one, I gathered poems, readings, thoughts and quotes like a peculiarly OCD magpie and deployed them according to whomsoever I was working for, I too acquired high skills in the dark art of cut'n'paste.

Yes, sure, some forms of words found their way into my mouth often enough that I hoped there'd be no one there who'd heard them before. When you've worked hard to express an idea in words it's a pity to use those words once only. It's why churches developed liturgies, dammit, whose familiarities breed affection in those who buy into them. Same old same old. Bring it on, they cry.

Originality comes at an impossible price. You might manage eight wholly original scripts, but there you'd have to stop. And they wouldn't be that good, either.

I agree that it is bonkers to be protective of a script full of stuff begged, borrowed and stolen. I remember one of my competitor colleagues covertly acquiring one of my scripts from the crem attendant. When I rang and suggested coffee, collegiality and sharing I ran into an angrily ashamed brick wall. Said celeb had once been a headmistress. To have been caught out doing something so unworthy was a slough from which I could not raise her.

A healthy spirit of sharing, constructive criticism and mutual observation is the way forward. Silly games of finders keepers are... well, pusillanimous.

In any case, as you say, the tribute's the thing. Far fewer reasons to cut 'n' paste there, and often none at all. But not always...

It's a very good thing you've done in shining a light of common sense and honesty on this. Brave, too.

Enough of me!!

X. Piry said...

Thanks, Charles.

Love your story about the former headmistress - what a shame she wasn't prepared to share; if you weren't embarrassed by the script-nicking, she needn't have been and it could have been a very useful relationship.

Yes, the tribute is the thing, but I'm often surprised at comments after the ceremony. The good folks sometimes have their attention caught by a particular poem or reading, or simply some little bit of well-wishing at the end.

Of course, just after a ceremony, there is a certain amount of "thank goodness it wasn't truly awful" euphoria, so maybe that's it, but we just can't predict which bits are going to hit home.

Thanks for your comment - I hadn't realised that I'd been brave (and now I'm scared), but it's out there now and I'll stand by it.

gloriamundi said...

XP thanks, very interesting - and very reassuring. If something I said last month about lifeanddeath was valid last month, I guess it's still valid now, so yes, I sometimes repeat myself too (I don't mean in the same funeral, though the way my memory's going...where was I? Ah yes - )

One colleague said that he moved on and gave a favourite poem or passage a rest when he himself got tired of his voice saying it, because if he was over-familiar with it, then that would creep into his delivery. People are very sensitive to such signals, aren't they? But if there are four families this year for whom "Do Not Go Gentle" is suitable, or even requested, then I'll use it four times.

I think it's great that you've explained how you work; I work in much the same way. (So we must be right!) Family visit today, let it settle this evening (never mix scriptwriting with Limestone Coast CabSauv...)draft tribute and sort music tomorrow. Let it settle. Go for a walk. Check a couple of things, likely phone family. Maybe even next day (unless another call comes in)start to work up what you might call the ritualistic bits - committal, introductions, conclusions. Offer to send an early draft across to family (I forget to do this too often, though sometimes I get asked directly, always happy to do so.) Sweat over the neighbour who may/maynot want to say something...

The final drafting is when it starts to lift off the page at me and I feel involved and part of it, though sometimes, doesn't always fly so well, depends on how well I respond to the family's cultures and wishes.

You're so right about anxieties and forms of self-declared copyright. I've heard colleagues moaning about someone "pinching" their script. It's a compliment. (Though not of course from the family who asked to see a copy, then dismissed the celebster and ran their own funeral on her script. Despicable.Pretty rare, though.)

There's an implicit structure in this process, so to fend off any radicals, that is what most frequently happens. It's not "a rigid humanist format." I'll do what they want as long as it's legal, and my writing process would vary accordingly.

X. Piry said...

Thanks, Gloria.

I know what you mean about it feeling more "real" at the final drafting. I always read it aloud before printing (and then check again from the printed page - my attention to detail being poss piir!). When it's something that I hear as well as see, it feels more alive (a link through to mindfulness, perhaps? Being absorbed in the thing, rather than some attention being diverted elsewhere).

And you are absolutely right about it not being a "humanist format". My working practice may be similar each time, but I try my hardest to make sure that the words aren't!

gloriamundi said...

H'm, that's an interesting idea - that reading it aloud puts it more in to the present moment.It helps explain the mysterious lift-off effect. And also a chance to correct the carless prowordcessing...