In protest at the proliferation of "awareness" days, weeks and months, the Idler magazine has decided instead that today we shall turn off, relax and float downstream.
If a speeding Jack Kerouac wrote a novel in 20 days, surely a month is time enough for an ordinary mortal? Starting Wednesday, you can test that theory: it's day one of National Novel Writing Month ...
Edinburgh diary: I bumped into a pal last week - let's call him Simon - who was wearing a chalkstripe suit, looking furious and gesticulating wildly at the book festival's camp on Charlotte Square. 'When are your arty friends all going to bugger off?' he bellowed.
On opposite sides of Edinburgh, two grand septuagenarians - each, in his different way, a British cultural icon - have taken the opportunity to vent their respective spleens.
Michel Houellebecq caused a furore with his novel, Platform. So who better to adapt it for stage than 'the Quentin Tarantino of opera', Calixto Bieito? By Stuart Jeffries.
Despite their monumental proportions and meticulous detail, Ron Mueck's sculptures are also understated. It is this that gives them their unsettling power, writes Craig Raine.
On miserable book tours and during her parents' divorce, novelist AL Kennedy consoled herself with humour. She explains why she is now performing on the Fringe.
John Harris: Never mind the hisses of dissent - as his appearance at Hay proved, James Lovelock is in the business of telling us an uncomfortable kind of truth.