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February 27, 2012

Thinking of doing a Creative Writing MA?

I’ll be upfront: I didn’t think of any of these things when I applied for mine, but hindsight is terrific, isn’t it? If you’re thinking of making a last minute application, as I did, here are a couple things that might be confounding you.

1. Location. This depends more on your stage of life. If you are settled and have a family then you’re much less likely to be able to up sticks and moved to another town. However, even if you come to it straight from your first degree you might be so heavily laden with debt that moving to a new town or staying in your old student town just isn’t viable.

So, could you travel instead?

One of my classmates lived at home in Glasgow but got a cheap flight once a week to London. Cheaper than upping sticks and moving to the capital. Could you afford the time and cash to travel to your preferred course even if you can’t move there on a more permanent basis?

Check the teaching hours: if they’re condensed into one or two consecutive days this might work for you. Call or email the department and ask to talk to someone about the practicalities of studying and balancing work. They are very aware that people do have to earn money to do things like eat.

Similarly, if the course closest to you isn’t your first choice that doesn’t mean it won’t be the right one for you, which leads me to…

2. Tutors. The best piece of advice I got was from another creative writing tutor who said “be taught by someone whose work you admire”. It’s obvious really – if you admire their writing, then perhaps they write in a similar way or genre to you, and you will learn tons. However, you can only afford to be this picky if location isn’t an issue.

I had to pay this advice no attention and I really lucked out. I learned two things:

  1. Fiction writers can learn a lot from poets
  2. If someone has been published and is employed by a reputable course director to teach, they will probably know what they’re talking about.

My only regret is that in the years since I graduated the teaching staff for my course has expanded, and I’d really like to work with some if the new faculty.

Don’t be dazzled by a big name in other words. But if you can, read the tutors’ work before the course starts. It’s polite for one, and you learn by reading anything, for two. It’s a win whichever way you look at it. (Yes, even if you don’t like it.)

3. Going back into Education. My only advice is don’t worry about it. You will not be the only one. You will be able to get help and advice from your tutors. You will have access to amazing libraries and other resources. You will rise to the challenge.

I had one meeting with a tutor when I was close to tears. I can barely remember why, but I was feeling lost and confused, and regretting ever doing the MA in the first place. We had a great chat, she drew me a diagram that really helped, and she didn’t even mention how teary I clearly was. I went away feeling slightly foolish, but bolstered.

See, the thing is that when you’re on the course you are a writer among writers, and that includes the people teaching you. Your tutors know exactly how you feel, because they have been in your position – unpublished, uncertain. But what I do know is that the good writers are always generous with their craft, their time and their wallet in the pub. Ok, so maybe more often than not you’ll want to buy them a drink, but the other two are definitely true.

If you’re hesitating, just stop. Get your application in, and see where it takes you.

(For the curious, I did my MA with Andrew Motion, Jo Shapcott and Susanna Jones here: MA Creative Writing at Royal Holloway (taught in central London). I’m still processing some of the things I was taught.)

 

Filed Under: On Writing Leave a Comment
February 26, 2012

What Happened to your New Year Resolutions?

Somehow it’s almost March. Where, what, how etc etc… They were right, time does fly when you’re older.

And it’s about this time of year that you glance up and realise you’ve forgotten what you intended to change from last year to this.

I’m not necessarily talking about writing, although in a roundabout way it is about writing. Everything is, one way or another. But whatever it was you meant to do and haven’t, don’t throw yourself down a well of despair.

All you need to do is dust off the intentions and resolutions you forgot about and seeing if there’s new life in them. It’s easy for me. I just have to have a look at some old blog posts and see if I managed to fulfil any of the rash promises I might have made.

Remember that intention I had to get a new habit of daily writing for at least 66 days? No, I didn’t either, until a comment on the writer’s playground* made me think of it again.

Perhaps it’s because I hadn’t made it visible to myself. It’s ok for practices to languish in the computer until I want to read them again, because they don’t need the light of day to make them breathe. That happens when I read them. But if I want to keep that commitment to daily writing, then it helps to have something staring me in the face.

Something I can’t ignore or forget about.

Like a calendar on the wall.

The wall I see from my bed, perhaps. I get into and out of bed every day after all. I can’t ignore that wall.

And that’s what I’ve done. Trying again has a lot going for it.

So the motto of the post would be? Oh we don’t need mottos. We’re fallible. Just fail better next time, as Samuel Beckett would say.

*Members only, I’m afraid. But you could join, you know. We’re all very nice.

Filed Under: Food for Thought Tagged With: , , Leave a Comment
February 16, 2012

Healthy Writer, Healthy novel.

I recently decided enough was enough and I needed to get healthy. There’s an app for it (Couch to 5K). There’s an app for everything, these days, but not all of them are as useful.

What has this got to do with writing?

Ever wondered how it is you’re going to sit down for the better part of a year, write a book, and not get backache and/or fat?

Yeah. That’s what it’s got to do with writing. I’m not the world’s biggest exercise fan. ‘Cross Country Run’ was about my most hated phrase at school (along with ‘what you lookin’ at?’) and all of my attempts at fitness in my adult life have culminated in me sitting on the sofa with a packet of ready salted and the tv remote.

Haruki Murakami wrote a book called ‘What I talk about when I talk about Running‘. He runs marathons, does Murakami San. He claims that it helps build up the stamina necessary for sustained novel writing, as well as keeping him fit. I think he’s right: there has to be a benefit of training the body  to run long distances that translates to training the mind to concentrate for long periods of time.

Since having a child, my concentration is truly shot, which I put down to having to be available at a moment’s notice. I am constantly interruptable and interrupted and sustaining one thought for longer than three minutes is almost impossible. Since I’m clearly unfit too, I realised there was no harm at all in taking up running.

Yes, the thing that I profess to hate.

Here’s the thing: I only hate it because I think I can’t do it. I have dodgy knees (get the right shoes), mahoosive betties (get the right bra), and a fear of running outside where ‘people’ can see me (join the leisure centre and run on a treadmill). So I did all three, and started doing my couch to 5k runs.

The local leisure centre is a revelation. You have the bonus of being able to watch everyone else in there and make up stories about them. You can disappear into your own head and mull over nothing or something. You can take your time and learn to run at your own pace. I also think that getting off the sofa in order to do one thing, means you’re more likely to get off the sofa to do another.

Of course, running may not be your thing. The other sport I tried recently that I was terrifically keen on was archery. Not so much about stamina and fitness as putting arrows through things, which is, let’s face it, hugely satisfying. So if you wouldn’t run, what would you do?

 

Filed Under: Food for Thought, On Writing 4 Comments
February 9, 2012

Conductor

You look at him and see only a bus conductor. He seems wise in the ways of drunks at 11.30pm, and mothers on their first outing with a baby at 10am. The worlds never collide except through him, and he brings his cold blue eyes to rest on all of it. He is in his mid fifties now, hair completely white, which he expected, and is grateful to still have hair and not be bald. He rides the bus through London, sweeping along the curve of the river from the west end to the city and back again, scooping up tourists, shoppers, lawyers, bankers and mingling them up on the worn seats of his Routemaster. This is his last summer as a conductor, with the withdrawal of the hop on and off London Bus coming sooner than anyone likes. No more swinging on the pole. No more collecting fares and checking tickets. No more dispensing the freedom of the city from the back of his bus.

It’s not the first time his life has been swiped out from under him. The first time was in ’89, when the stock markets went down and swirled his life around the plughole at the same time. Only just over forty, and slung out onto Gracechurch Street with all the other clueless suits. He didn’t have time to worry about what people would think, with a mortgage over his head, interest rates at fifteen per cent, and Barbara on diazepan. He saw the ad in the Standard on the train home, and thought ‘fuck it’. Applied, got the job, was out of his training before most of his former colleagues had realised their jobs really weren’t coming back and they’d have to find something else to do. Did he miss it? Of course he did. There were holidays in Florida, his Audi, the crisp collar of a hundred quid shirt against his neck, his heart racing in his chest when he made a good trade. The only way he got anywhere near that thrill these days was throwing a cocky, drunk trader off his bus on Cheapside on a Friday night, which, some might say, he did with more regularity than even they deserved.

Filed Under: 5 Minute Fictions 3 Comments