#WorkingOutLoud on Togetherness - Otherness’

Today i’ve set the whole day aside to work on the book about ‘Togetherness – Otherness’ with Susie.

I say ‘book’, but this is in fact two books rolled into one – about how we are ‘together’, the experience, cost and feeling of this, and how we are made the ‘other’, the experience, dynamics and consequences of such.

The book will form a sequel to ‘The Humble Leader’ in that it will be a guided reflection, although it will differ in that i aim to bring in some quotes and voices from real people.

It’s the first time that Susie and i have written together, so whilst we have been sharing notes and ideas in a collaborative document for a month or so, we wanted to have a writing session where we could pull the structure together and just hang out to write.

Susie has been writing more narrative, and i’ve found myself weaving words around it, so it feels very dynamic. Already we are starting to edit down. The point of these books is to create space, not noise. ‘The Humble Leader’ is, i think, just right, at about 3.5k words. I can comfortably read it cover to cover in 15 minutes, but equally i have spent four hours discussing it with people. The book is the space.

Sharing an extract of our writing from today – possibly none of this will make it to the published version, but sharing as part of #WorkingOutLoud. This is from ‘book 1’, on ‘Togetherness in Adversity’

We come together in crisis – we come together in solidarity – we come together to protest.?

To stand up and shout out.

Sometimes, at the right time, or to make the time right, we say ‘enough’.

One voice connects with one other, and the crowd is born.

A crowd finds voice and common purpose.

A crowd protests, becomes protest. Becomes as one.

One shout, borne from one scream.

A cry for breath. A cry to breathe.

Placards and armbands. Things that matter. Lives that matter.

Persecutions to be undone.

Strangers colliding through circumstance. Supporting each other – found together, falling together.

Glued, bound, gagged or kettled. Climbing up, finding voice.

Or simply asking for, demanding, pleading for a voice.

Running for shelter, or into the arms of others. Finding that we are together, and stronger.

What would we hear?

“I felt i had to act…”

“I could not look on…”

Or perhaps we would hear nothing except our silent shame of complicity?