This Stubborn World

Creative Vision Writer's Group

Build your Creative Vision this Spring and make 2007 the year your Writing Dreams become Reality.

Dates: Wednesdays at 8.30-9.30pm UK time (3.30-4.30pm EST) from 4th April to 23rd May

I'm really excited to announce the launch of the Creative Vision Writer's Group. At last, I'm going to be able to work with many of you closely, for a full eight weeks on my most affordable course yet! Whether you're longing to dive into a writing project, need motivation to finish or are looking for help on the process of writing a book, this is the perfect group for you.

Joining this group will really kick-start your writing life this Spring. I'll be working with up to 16 people who are ready to commit to their writing work . You will be supported by me, as your coach and the entire group - fellow creative individuals who are equally ready to make their writing dreams a reality. We'll meet on a telephone conference line once a week and explore themes such as 'how to be driven by passion not discipline', 'how to grow your work organically' and 'formulating a personal Action Plan and Schedule for success'. Rest assured, I'll be there helping you keep to your writing schedule as you take your work to new heights.

If you're ready to discover deeper self-belief in your artistic capability and be more productive than ever before, take a look at the course details now. There are only 16 places and you get a fabulous discount if you book early!

In addition, every member of the group gets a free 30 minute consultation with me, membership of an exclusive Yahoo group, the potential for sharing work with a writing buddy and even, if you're local to Richmond-upon-Thames a regular monthly coffee meet in Carluccio's. I can't wait to get to know you and your work... Click here to find out more.

The Writing Coach

After much reflection and for reasons I explain on 'The Writing Coach' today, I've taken the decision to move all of my blogging over to that site.  To all my loyal 'Stubborn World' readers - fear not, the personal and more chatty posts on this site will continue to be posted on 'The Writing Coach'.  Simply, it now feels more natural to put everything together in one blog - news about my coaching, my own writing, my latest cultural interests and personal news too.  I do hope that you enjoy the new format as it grows and develops.  From tomorrow, I shall be posting my new daily writing program on that site:

“The Writing Coach:  30 Days to Conquer Your Self-Doubt and Procrastination and Have 30,000 Words Under Your Belt”

It's aimed at all writers who find themselves blocked or unproductive and need a way of breaking through the barriers of fear and procrastination.  I look forward to your feedback. 

And naturally, 'Stubborn World' and all the postings I've previously posted here, will remain online as a resource. 

Completing the first draft

Today's word count:   635
Total word count:  62,798

Time to give myself a deadline to complete my current novel.  What I'm writing now is what I call a 'frivolity' and weirdly I have found the frivolous nature of my writing to be an obstruction.  In the days and weeks ahead I'm hoping to chronicle my own coming unblocked.  Because that is what has happened.  Everything is suddenly clear:  what I must do to complete this project; what is next; how I'll progress; what went wrong.  I know my own experiences will be useful to those I coach.  But even more useful to me.  I'm excited.  This novel will be delivered by the summer.  Then I can progress to the work that excites me even more.  In the meantime, I'm going to have a lot of fun. 

I've been laughing out loud this evening at old pal David Nichol's novel Starter for Ten;I put it down for a while, though God knows why.  I rarely laugh out loud when I read.  This novel cracks me up.  What are the funniest novels you've read lately?   

Did you miss me?

OK, so I've been hanging out on my other blog 'The Writing Coach' just a little more recently, but I admit, I have been absent. 

So I'll get back into the swing of posting with these photos of Kew Gardens where I spent today.  Magnolias out in bloom, my favourite tree.  Ever since I read 'Moderato Cantabile' by Marguerite Duras as a sixth former, I've been entranced by these blossoms and their scent.  I remember my damned ignorance when our wonderful teacher asked us if we knew what a magnolia was; I hadn't a clue.  I sought out the blooms whose scent, apparently, might entice a man to kill.  The symbolism in that novel struck a deep chord, taught me how imagery might build in a novel, deepening meaning.  Nothing so dark about the Magnolias at Kew of course.  Just enjoying what felt like the first day of Spring.  But take a look at those petals against the sky.  It was Gerald Manley Hopkins who taught me to look up.

"Again, look overhead   
How air is azurèd;   
O how! nay do but stand            
Where you can lift your hand   
Skywards: rich, rich it laps   
Round the four fingergaps.   
Yet such a sapphire-shot,   
Charged, steepèd sky will not            
Stain light. Yea, mark you this:   
It does no prejudice.   
The glass-blue days are those   
When every colour glows,   
Each shape and shadow shows.            
Blue be it: this blue heaven."

- from 'The Blessed Virgin compared to the Air we Breathe'

Last night's Creative Writing Class

During last night's creative writing class, it occurred to me that it might be useful to readers of this blog if I began posting the regular creative writing exercises that I set for students in class, as well as a few notes on the topic of each weekly class.  As this kind of material is more directly relevant to my other blog The Writing Coach I shall post the exercise there, so please do click through to join in with the class.  Any feedback is welcome and I'll be interested to know how you get on with the exercises.

I'm pretty excited also right now, as I have just launched my new Literary Consultancy and its fabulous to be working with some wonderful manuscripts.  So many of my students are so talented, I feel privileged to be in a community of such inspired writers.  What's great about working with other people's writing is that I always see the strengths of the writing very clearly, but sometimes those strengths may be eclipsed by some omission or a lack of narrative drive or an unclear narrative voice.  It's a business in which one has to be extremely honest; there's no point telling somebody their work is just great and ready for publication when frankly it sucks!  But what I find heartening about being in this line of work is that much of the time, some very talented writers simply don't make the break-through with their work because nobody has taken the time to look at the work closely with them and find out exactly what is working and what is not and what needs to be done to make it better.  Having worked in an informal way over the past year editing manuscripts of fellow novelists, and also coaches looking to publish e-books, I'm looking forward to continuing this work and potentially working with literary agents to talent spot (there's just so much of it about - how can I, in good faith, let it lie on a shelf?) 

My daughter starts school in September and my year working at Richmond College draws to a close.  What lies ahead is the completion of my own fourth novel (bliss), time to pursue other avenues of creativity (I'm planning to begin a course in ceramics; to be a student at the college rather than a teacher) as well as furthering my consultancy and coaching, reaching a wider audience with this work.  As I miss the teaching, I'm also hoping to run regular free tele-classes in creative writing and expanding one's creativity.  Watch this space...

(In case anyone's wondering, I ain't heard a scratch nor a squeak from the rats all day, my hallway is flooded with light and I chose a fabulous hairpiece from Hobbs for my neice's wedding as well as a cuddly Starwars Yoda doll from Clinton for my little girl.  Half-full?  Heck, it's flowing over...)

Rejection Slip and Rats

Something I wrote was rejected today.  It was a nice letter though.  And you know, we may have rats, but the rat wasn't in the Smeg, simply under the floorboards.  Our house is being rewired, which means there is a thin layer of dust over every available surface, but hey, the house is safe.  I think I put on weight too.  But I just watched one of those plastic surgery programmes about obesity and that always makes you feel better.  And I can still fit into my new Karen Millen dress which I'll be wearing for my niece's wedding on Saturday.  So life is good, if you're a glass half full kind of person. 

I keep thinking about Naomi Wolf's new book, 'The Treehouse' slagged off in a recent Times review, but hell, why shouldn't Naomi go soft?  Those who like it full, read this Interview instead. 

I like the chapter called 'Your only wage will be Joy'.  Her father published twenty books.  She writes:

  'Some have done well; others were ignored.  Critics liked some and detested others.  Sometimes it was hard for him to find a publisher.  His method is to focus on the creation, ignore the reception, and get on to the next page.  He has no regrets and he keeps working.  "My novel, "The Glass Mountain" took thirty years to find a publisher.  Did it get better in the interim?  Of course not.  My sense was that it was always important, and I kept sending it out."  '

It reminds me of something the novelist Liz Jensen said to me recently when we met for lunch.  She reminded me that as a writer one must not look at the fate of a single book, but at a writing career.  A writing life.

In my first novel, "The Temple of Hymen", the heroine's headpiece became infected with maggots.  People tell me they have nightmares about that scene.  But you know, I think they rather like nightmares.  Makes life a bit more interesting.  Clearly the rats are here to tell me something.   Life was just a little too clean and perfect before we moved.  Will I be a better coach for rats and rejection?  Possibly.  A better writer?  Hell yes.

A Spy in the House of Love

Have just returned from Book Club to be told by the babysitter that something has been moving in the dishwasher. She fears it may be a mouse. But I should beware. She's heard that snakes can get into dishwashers. I pretend to be calm. But the truth is, I saw a long, grey tail disappearing out of sight just outside the kitchen window the other day. And I fear it is a rat. The worst thing is, it's a new dishwasher. A 'Smeg' in fact. That'll teach me. Did you see the 'Wallace and Grommit Movie'? Their fridge was a 'Smug'.

At Book Club we were discussing Anais Nin's 'A Spy in the House of Love'. When I began reading, I was somewhat shocked at the purple prose. I mean, hey, wasn't I writing that stuff aged 21? But as I read on, I have to admit that the innovation of Nin's work struck me. That she was probably the first to write about a woman's sensual life in this way. And whilst her central character Sabine is hugely egocentric and thus not particularly interesting per se, Nin's way of describing her psyche has a certain interest; not least the comparison of Sabine to a Futurist painting, the divided self, the many selves. I was left with a sense of pity at Sabine's love-addiction. And confess to being wooed, in the end, by the hypnotic rhythm of the prose. I can't help but wonder what Nin might have achieved if she'd allowed herself to look beyond the Self. In truth, perhaps I see my own worst faults in Nin, perhaps that's why I find myself at once drawn to the writing and repelled by it. Though I don't write like that any more (influenced in my twenties by Djuna Barnes, Stevie Smith, de Beauvoir, Woolf and Gertrude Stein, it probably, nonetheless, came out like Anais Nin) I may be guilty, sometimes, of writing characters who obsess about their own small lives. It's something I'd like to move away from. However true these characters may be, I often feel that characters with a broader perspective, a less subjective view would interest me more these days.

In my own subjective little universe however, there is the matter of the rat...

The Writing Coach

After a long break from blogging (blame moving house and that advice from my agent - 'book not blog') I've decided to launch a separate blog aimed at those who are more interested in my coaching work.  'Stubborn World' will remain an arts blog.  But you can catch up with advice on writing and creativity here:  The Writing Coach  Do hope that you enjoy it...

One Big Damn Puzzler

Just back from hearing John Harding read at Langton's bookshop in Twickenham.  He spoke eloquently about his latest novel 'One Big Damn Puzzler', set on a mythical South Sea Island.  The central character, the elderly tribeman Managua is translating Hamlet into the native language when a young American lawyer with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder arrives, disturbing the status quo.

I first met John when I was teaching at Richmond College and, as a former student, he came to speak to my class, shortly after his first novel was published.  I haven't yet read his latest, but what fascinated me about this evening was the way in which John's description of the creative process so closely echoed my own experience.  He began writing a novel about a group of prison inmates putting on a production of Hamlet.  He also happened to have read a Theroux book about the Pacific Islands.  He'd been reading about OCD recently.  He couldn't forget an image in his head of a man sitting writing in a hut.  When eventually he abandoned the prison novel, the other influences in his subconcious mind came together to form this narrative.  Harding was attempting to describe the creative process and how making a book is the process of gathering all those elements that hover about the unconcious mind and making them concrete. 

My own novel 'Bluethroat Morning' also sprang from the remnants of an abandoned novel.  The abandoned work was about a snake-charmer in Victorian England and another woman, a herpetologist.  When I quit working on that novel, a particular scene wouldn't go away - a Victorian woman walks along a North Norfolk beach in a high wind, her elderly uncle struggling to walk beside her.  And from that fragment (and many other barely conscious imaginings) the novel grew.

It fired me up to hear John talk about aspects of novel writing that I so often talk about myself, for example, the moment when characters seem to take on a life of their own - or believing in the world one has created so completely that one really does believe that it exists somewhere (for him, out there in the Pacific; for me, over two hundred years ago (for 'Temple of Hymen'), or else, in some parallel Norfolk ('Bluethroat Morning') )

How weird that one can bore oneself rigid describing one's own creative processes, yet hearing that same story from another's mouth makes it seem suddenly fresh and new.

Before I left, I noticed, on the front table at Langton's Gijs van Hensbergen's book on 'Guernica'; felt a little pang as I'd always wanted to write a 'Guernica' book.  Discussing it this evening, I knew, again, that art will figure in what I write next. 

Being in bookshops always makes me want to devour what's there:  a lovely long holiday with a big pile of crisp hardbacks beside me would be perfect.

In the meantime, I have a single crisp hardback to read:  'One Big Damn Puzzler'.

Look at Me - Self-portraits by groups from across the UK

I was fortunate enough, recently, to visit the 'Look at Me' exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in London.  I had very little time at  NPG as I was with visiting with impatient children.  They thought the foyer exhibit quite hilarious:  a wall of TV screens, each revealing a different, empty room of the gallery.  When you look closely, you see movement - a fox has been let loose in the gallery and you can watch it exploring alone, vanishing from one screen, reappearing on another. 

The kids' patience didn't last long however and after a brief glimpse at the 3-D portrait of JK Rowling, it was already running out.  Their dad took over whilst I spent some time gazing at the portrait of John Fowles, an amazing, luminous work and the incredible portrait of the comedian Ken Dodd, a dressing-room portrait, revealing an off-stage, weary persona.

As I had so little time and wanted to take something whole away with me, I decided to see  'Look at Me'.  The project involved community groups from across the UK. Over a period of 6 months the National Portrait Gallery worked in partnership with museums, galleries, charities and other organisations.  The exhibition runs alongside the major self-portraiture exhibition.  The participants in the project included young travellers, homeless people,those in care, those with mental health issues, young people outside formal education and those seeking asylum.

In the gallery's words:

"The project was set up to encourage people to engage with portraiture, heritage and the arts and
to offer them an opportunity to develop their own successful artistic project which will be exhibited on a national stage. The artwork is displayed alongside the stories of those that made them, and offers a unique insight into the diversity of those living in Britain today. Inspiration was taken from the portraits in the Gallery's own collections as well as portraits in other institutions, and a selection of self-portraits from the Gallery's Collection is included in the exhibition."

I was immensely touched by the black and white Victorian style self-portraits taken by young people from Barnados, each revealed the idiosyncracies and vibrancy of the individuals.  So much of this exhibition moved me:  a photo self-portrait made by a young traveller, designed to show he was just a normal footie-loving kid like any other; a scrawled page from a school-girls diary; a rap-poem superimposed on a photograph of the sitter, revealing his despair, but somehow transcending it also.  The video made at The Connection at St-Martins , a central London day centre for homeless people was particularly brilliant and made me determined to participate there at some point.  A camera had simply been set up, ready to record people's verbal self-portraits.  The way in which people (both homeless and centre workers) revealed themselves was fascinating to watch and made compelling viewing. 

Soon, the children and their dad returned to join me at the gallery.  The exhibition has several hands-on areas, so they had a fab time creating their own self-portraits, sitting before mirrors and engaging in the act of depicting themselves.  They also created self-portraits in magnetic words which had them in fits of laughter as did the distorting mirrors.

Most of all, the exhibition was a brilliant reminder of the truth of the idea that everyone is creative. Art is not something for the elite few; at its best it is all-inclusive and involving.  Many of the Barnados kids had returned often to the gallery in the weeks after the project was completed and their work reminded me of my favourite Martha Graham quote, which my regular readers may, I hope, forgive me for repeating:  "There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.  And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost"