Steven O'Connor's Blog, page 2

Holiday snaps for book covers?

Wracking your brains out for a good picture to transform into a book cover? Well, very likely you won’t find it here, but you’re welcome to read on anyway!

Since returning from my UK writing expedition, I’ve been busy ‘re-engaging’ with a normal life — and all of the everyday responsibilities that come with that. Like getting on top of the garden, which I’m certain went into a weed frenzy to spite me for being away for so long. And like trying to get the rainwater water tank under the house working again. And like getting up early and heading out into the cold, rainy mornings to earn a living again.

And, with the normal life, come oh-so-few exciting photo opportunities to show you in a blog post.

But then, out of the blue a writing buddy put in a personal request for some pictures of castles or old homes from my recent UK shots. He was on the hunt for a good pic he could turn into the cover for a book he has completed. I think he was hoping for something semi-creepy. After a mad search through my photos, the below (and the one above) is the best I could do, I’m afraid. Still, I had a lot of fun raking through my collection and finding the pics. And now I can present my choices to you in a blog post. Ta da!

I took many holiday snaps while I was away. I have just under 11,000, would you believe. And that’s after cutting them back. It’s so terribly easy to take photos in this digital age. You merely need to hold one finger on the button as the train shoots along, sip your coffee, and gaze back out of the window … all the while, snap, snap, snap.

See what you think of the following pics I offered my writing mate. The above one, by the way, is Inverness in Scotland. Here’s another from Scotland. Can you imagine it as a book cover? Maybe.

Scotland.  The clouds give it away.

I really like this next one. I took it in Wales. Isn’t it great?

I’m not too sure where this below building is from. Manchester? It’s not a castle, more like something out of a Garth Nix novel. Keys to the Kingdom.

This next one is definitely from Manchester. Isn’t it fabulously creepy?

Here’s London… Perhaps a little too many cranes and people (when you look closer). This is near the Tower of London.

A much better one (below) from London. Don’t you just love those couches set out in front of the castle wall? Why the hell are they there? But one might be able to crop and use some of it…

This last one is from my childhood hometown, Luton…

I suspect none of these will meet the needs of my writing buddy. Still, the exercise made me think about my attitude towards my ‘normal life’. Who says there are no photo opportunities for one’s day-to-day world? Perhaps I need to cultivate more of the eye of a tourist, even at home. My ‘normal world’ is not your normal world.

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My writers’ retreat in the Scottish Highlands

I am coming towards the end of my three-and-a-half-month writing odyssey through the UK and I’m keen to tell you about the writers’ retreat at Moniack Mohr, 14 miles beyond Inverness in Scotland. This was the second of my UK writers’ retreats and, while very different to the retreat in deepest, darkest Shropshire, was just as wonderful.

Marilyn Bowering and Stephen May

This time around the two established author mentors were Marilyn Bowering (flying in from Vancouver, Canada) and, Stephen May (from Bedford, UK).

A tiny bit of back story: Stephen May, who was a co-leader at the Shropshire retreat, invited me to come along to this second retreat in Scotland, and nobly made a special effort to include new writerly experiences at this second retreat purely on my behalf. Thank you!

The view from my window.

There were nine of us emerging writers at the retreat, and all were from Scotland bar me. There was something special about that. And I found, to my surprise, there is far more than the one Scottish accent. The writing projects were just as varied, spanning autobiography through to anime-influenced fantasy, literary fiction, short story and hyper social-realism akin to Train Spotting (you know what I mean). And all of it highly accomplished.

As this was some months on from the first retreat, and I’d also visited a number of writers’ group in between, this time around I found myself highly focussed on the rewriting of my Beneath the Surface manuscript. While I was keen to mix with the other writers and forge what I hope will be some lasting connections, I also spent a lot of time closeted in my bedroom, reworking written passages. There was one particular section of the manuscript, spanning six chapters or so, that I was uncertain about. I’d forwarded these to Stephen May before the retreat for his consideration. Sure enough, my uncertainties were confirmed. He liked the writing, but felt many of the ideas could go from the story. They simply did not support the spine of the story. (If you’ve read my manuscript on Wattpad, I’m especially talking about the ‘market of pictures‘ scenes. Perhaps one day the material might re-surface in short story form? I’ve done that before with my first book.)

My room was the third window from the right.

Apart from the Scottish setting — so different to the setting in Shropshire — and Stephen May’s excellent efforts to include new things in his presentations, Marilyn Bowering’s mentoring style was also different enough to the previous mentors to justify this second retreat experience of mine. Her emphasis, while affirming, was continually on pushing each of us to explore more deeply the narrative purpose of our written works, questioning every step. What’s more, I have many written notes from her on the writing I submitted (a different section of my manuscript to what I submitted to Stephen May), as well as further suggested reading that relates to my story’s imagery. I’m keen to pore over this stuff when I return home.

It has been an immense experience, and once more, like the Shropshire writers’ retreat at John Osborne’s house, I have come away feeling even stronger as a writer.

And so, as has become my thing, I leave you now with some final photos (quite a few actually).

Looking out, beyond the main house.

The cottage, where the writer mentors stayed.

‘The Hobbit House’.

Stephen May in The Hobbit House.

Some of us having a break from our writing.

On the final night, I was invited to ‘Address the Haggis’ – a Scottish tradition that involved reciting a Robbie Burns poem and stabbing the haggis…

And one final thing to share. I was in charge of baking the chocolate brownies. They were delicious. So here’s the recipe, if you’re interested …

Oh yum…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Getting ready for a Scottish Highlands writer’s retreat

I’m now in a wee place called Pitlochry. It’s known as a gateway to the Scottish Highlands. And I’m preparing for a writers’ retreat beyond Inverness, even further into the Scottish Highlands and close to Loch Ness. You might remember I was at a writer’s retreat several months back in beautiful Shropshire. Whilst there, I was invited by the author Stephen May to come along to another retreat towards the end of this pilgrimage of mine to find myself (or something like that). It’s at a place called Moniack Mhor. You can check it out here if you’re interested.

Same deal as the last time, I need to be a part of a cooking team for one night. Oh dear, I loved everything about the previous retreat except that. Cooking is not me. (Pray to God it’s not multiple versions of lasagne for 20 people again. Thank God I had able team mates last time.)

While I have been dabbling with my manuscript as I’ve been travelling, I’m looking forward to getting back into it seriously again. I have certain doubts about the second half of the first act of Beneath the Surface (about a third of the way in), and I’ve sent this section ahead of me so I can discuss it throughly with the established authors when I get there. If I do make changes, they’re big — it’s quite a few chapters that will need to be cut. Perhaps as many as six.

I head out to Inverness by train tomorrow, but meanwhile, I will leave you with a few more shots of picturesque Pitlochry, taken today…

Fly fishing (erh no, that’s not me fishing)

Yes, it really was as sunny as this. Sunny Scotland…

The town centre

The railway station has its own bookshop…

In my next post, I will let you know how I get on at the retreat, and if I’ve gone ahead with that major cut to the first act of Beneath the Surface.

 

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How we write

York

I’m currently in York (‘Old York’), having just come from Stratford-upon-Avon, and I’m working my way up to the Scottish Highlands where I will participate in one last writing event — a writers’ retreat just outside of Inverness.

Where I met up with the ‘London Literary Cafe’.

I’ve been pondering on the differences and similarities in how we all write as I’ve travelled about. Some of us, like me, try to write everyday, lest our rhythm and energy slip. Many, like me again, like to write to music — whether this is to simply cut off distractions from the world or perhaps even draw on the mood of the music as you try to effectively turn ideas into written words.

As I attend groups and retreats (only one of the latter, so far, but another coming), I am struck by how many of us still write from pen to paper, transcribing to computer at a later date. This is something I rarely do. For me, writing from pen to paper just adds hard labour to the task. I avoid it where I can. I much prefer to use all of the devices available to me to aid my writing. For me, this is a part of the fun. I practically surround myself with devices. But at the writers’ retreat in Shropshire I was especially aware that those with a laptop were in a distinct minority. Interestingly, London was different, with many writing with the aid of bot laptops and iPads.

Where I met up with ‘Write Together’, London.

I often think about rhythm in my writing, which for me is an intuitive thing, the sense of my words and sentences flowing together in a way that supports the images I am trying to convey. I think this is the same for most writers, but one writer I met talked to me about the melody in his writing, and how this was different to the rhythm of his words. Something I’ll need to give some more thought to.

The same goes for the writing spaces we choose. I write wherever I can (I’m writing this sitting up in bed). For others it must be a desk. And perhaps even one specific desk. Many writers also love a good view before them. Of course I like a terrific view as much as anybody, but for writing? I would find it distracting. I would just want to gaze into it. But we’re all different.

An incredible view! Dunstable Downs, close to where I grew up in the UK.

I’ll leave you now with a few more travel snaps, and let you know more about the final writers’ retreat soon.

In Shakespeare’s old house, in Stratford-upon-Avon, you can buy the complete set of Shakespearean Star Wars books. Here’s two…

The Phantom of Menace

The Clone Army Attacketh.

And a Dr Who…

Dr Who? That is the question.

A literary construction site in Stratford-upon-Avon.

And finally, ending a serious note, the house where Shakespeare grew up…

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Crafty Writers in Manchester

I’m keen to tell you about a fabulous writers’ group known as the Crafty Writers. They’re based in Manchester, and I was lucky enough to be welcomed to one of their sessions.

I can barely keep up with the number of places I’ve been too so far in my writerly roaming about the UK — Bath, Exeter, Plymouth, Manchester, London (three times so far), Penzance… Many places have been on a whim, guided at times by writing and music opportunities, and other times perhaps by childhood memories. For example, in Penzance I went to a place called Land’s End and peered out over the steep cliffs. It was like standing on the United Kingdom’s big toe and peering outwards. I’d last visited Land’s End when I was eleven.

But back to Manchester’s Crafty Writers’ Group — one of my special writing opportunities.  It was my mother, would you believe (she is also a writer), who put me onto the group. She’d read one of the group member’s (Jayne Fallows) short stories in the UK writers’ mag Writers’ Forum. It was a terrific short story called The Worst Party Ever. Beneath the story, Writer’s Forum mentioned Jayne’s involvement in the Crafty Writers. Happily they have a website (see link below) and I was easily able to contact them. 

Home of the Crafty Writers.

I made it to the group the same day I exited from the writers’ retreat in Shropshire — going to the group straight from the train and pulling my wheelie luggage behind me. It did feel a bit of a whirlwind.

The group are making a shift from workshopping about the craft of writing to critiquing each other’s work. On the Saturday afternoon I was there, everybody was trying their hand at something different. And all the writing was very accomplished. I listened to everything from historical fiction to poetic prose to the structuring of a book on writing craft (this latter is the project of the groups’ convenor, Lorrie Porter).

I had the fortune to test-run the changes to the opening paragraphs of my own manuscript and received immediate feedback from everyone — which has allowed me to refine the opening words to Beneath the Surface (perhaps the most important words of any book). On the day, I also pulled out my camera and was rapt at their preparedness for a few photos, as you can see.

You can find out more about the Manchester Crafty Writers Group on their website here.

And here are a few more photos of marvellous Manchester (or ‘awesome Manchester’, as one nephew calls it)…

Chetham’s Library, the oldest public library in UK.

The library dates from 1653. Here’s a corridor you see as you first enter, where the monks lived (the librarians, I guess). I needed to be escorted in, but was then free to roam.

An aisle of the library.

All change. A different kind of library — inside a Manchester record store. Manchester, of course, has given the world many great bands.The BBC’s headquarters are now located in Manchester…

And here’s one I had to share with you, a famous Smiths location…

Finally, I leave you with a quote I saw in Manchester’s football museum that I believe equally applies to writing as football…

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At a writers’ retreat in Shropshire

My post about the writers’ retreat in Shropshire has had to wait until I finally got over a nasty chest infection (well, almost over) — a hearty thanks to the UK’s National Health Service for their support in this.

So what, in a single sentence, did I get out of my near-week long retreat in a remote part of Shropshire? Easy. Two answers. I spent a week rebooting the writer in me (something I’ve come to realise I needed). And I made a whole host of brand new writer friends.

Sharing our work

There were sixteen of us — emerging writers — staying in the Georgian Manor pictured above. Plus, the two established authors, Mavis Cheek and Stephen May, who looked after our writerly interests for the week. Then of course there was also the onsite staff, including a poet laureate who helped with lunch meals in the day. Some like me brought their works in progress, others were there to kickstart new projects. There was so much diverse and energetic writing talent in one place, it was wonderful to be a part of it — hearing first hand about each other’s projects, and listening in as they shared their work. 

A typical day for me began with getting in some quick writing (with the aid of a plunger of coffee) before grabbing a small breakfast and gathering in the main tutorial room. In these morning sessions, all of us fresh and ready for the day, we would look closely at any number of aspects of writing, from enriching dialogue, to the eight-point structure, creating good place and setting, and research. While I was already familiar with many of these topics — as were others too — they came very candidly from the personal perspectives of the two established authors and so felt new and engaging.

Spending some time in the afternoon sun.

The afternoons were given over to our own writing time, informal chats about writing, walks about the grounds and on-on-one sessions.

In the evenings we had the cooking groups. This was my only stress of the week. Recipes were there to help us, and staff were on hand where possible. Yet it was still an ordeal given the number of us and the variety of dietary preferences. In the end, I was proud of the chocolate pudding I somehow created (I kept the recipe but I’m not sure I could ever manage it a second time), but I felt for my fellow writers Lynne and Anne who took on most of the lasagne cooking tasks. Imagine making vegetarian lasagne for that many people — plus two smaller ones for other dietary requirements. I helped them where I could.

The evenings after dinner were devoted to presenting written works. We heard from the author tutors, a guest writer  Selma Dabbagh (who was very generous with sharing her personal writing experiences) and, of course, ourselves. 

Readings on the last night (the guitar came later, as did much jolly abandon)

Happily, much of the feedback for my draft of Beneath the Surface was of a fine tuning nature — or ‘grace notes’, as Mavis Cheek liked to call them. Significantly, however, I was compelled to revisit my opening lines. The opening lines of a novel are critical. No matter how exciting the rest of your story may be, if you have not engaged the reader’s interest from the start, they will not stick around to marvel at those gems waiting later in your book. It was good feedback which I have gladly taken.

So, enough chat, onto some more pictures….

First up, a shelfie. This is a shelf from one of the bookcases I noticed when I first wrote about this retreat some months ago (back in Australia). It now has a new home next to the author tutors’ rooms (and mine – clearly I’d been the first to book in).

Here’s John Osborne’s (playwright and former owner of the estate) favourite view. I’m standing just beyond the back of the house…

I had the room directly above me in this photo…

A walkabout, one afternoon, as I was reflecting on exciting writing ideas, perhaps…

Finally, I leave you with a short piece I wrote during one of the morning sessions. It’s about my visit back to the old house where I grew up. I’ve not reworked it since the session, besides fixing a typo.

The wide avenue of my memory

Last week I visited my childhood home for the first time in over 40 years. The road up was bendy and thin. Not the wide avenue of my memory.

The first thing I noticed was the red sold sign attached to the hedging. So the people here don’t want to be here anymore? I thought. What a silly thought. What did it matter?

The house, two-storey, semi-detached, leaned to one side and seemed the worst kept in the street. Its sad eyes looked out and passed me.

It was as if I was visiting something I’d once read about in a book.

I peered up at the upper bedroom window, knowing that was where I and my two brothers once slept.

How did a family of seven live in this place for so many years?

I wasn’t going to, but I tried the door knocker. A dog barked. No one was home. But I remembered the sound of the door knocker well. Deep, warm and woody. Want a funny, unexpected thing to remember.

When I walked on to top of the hill, the way I used to go to school as a child, I turned around and looked down. I saw a view I did not recall. I did not know was there. I saw the town stretch away across the valley. I saw where it ended, and there were open fields rising into hills. I saw jets in the distance, landing and taking off.

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Shelfies

I have some shelfies to share with you from the UK.

While viewing on the internet the place of my forthcoming writers’ retreat — a mere few days away — I was struck by the bookshelves in the manor displayed in the background of one photo. I found myself wondering what could be in them. Possibly they will be filled with ‘stuffy books’, things put there more for their dignified appearance than their content, but we shall see.

Meanwhile, here are a few shelfies I’ve taken as I make way way about the UK. (Taking ‘shelfies’, by the way, according to a librarian relative of mine — is quite the thing with the librarian set. And here I was, thinking it was just me.)

Shelfie No.1: From a London secondhand bookshop

This first one is a shelfie through the window of a secondhand bookshop (Quinto Bookshop) near Covent Garden, London. They’re rather rare books, hence the protective coverings. ‘The Horrid mysteries’ — love that name. It could be worth a flick through. And the first book, a sci-fi with 50s-looking spaceships on its cover is selling for 75 pounds (US$116.00). It’s by EE ‘Doc’ Smith and was first published in 1948 (though written for the Amazing Stories magazine in 1934).

Shelfie No. 2: A tower of British books, British Library

This next one is from the British Library. Books preserved behind glass. Never to be read. Well, who would dare ask one of the librarians to fetch you one to thumb through? ‘That  one near the top, on the right, please. Many thanks.’

Shelfie No. 3: From Chapter Arts Centre, Cardiff, Wales

Here’s a much simpler shelfie, from a vibrant local arts centre in Cardiff. An interesting selection of reading. I’m guessing people leave them for others to collect. The Good Beer Guide — very Cardiff, I’m told. I’ll let you look at the others for yourself.

Shelfie No. 4: From an artist’s house in an inner suburb of Cardiff

Look at how neat and exact this is! It is in the room I am sitting in as I type this. It is so perfect, she has paid a lot of attention to visual presentation. There is another shelf beneath, where the books taper down. Here it is…

Shelfie No. 5: Another from the artist’s house in Cardiff

It’s like installation art!

This next isn’t really a shelfie at all, and it is a little disturbing…

Shelfie No. 6 (but not really a shelfie at all): From Torre Coffee, Cardiff

This is wallpaper. It’s from a cafe opposite the castle in Cardiff. The coffee was good, thankfully, and they had some nice pictures hanging elsewhere in the cafe. But this looks dead. If, for thousands of years, elderly Italian monks piled up the bones of their dead monk ancestors in a deep chamber of their monastery, it would look more jolly than this.

And so finally I end on a high note, bookshelves featured in a Dr Who episode, no less…

Shelfie No.7: From the library at Cardiff Castle.

There is a lot of Dr Who about Cardiff. BBC Wales produced Torchwood, the spin-off series situated in Cardiff, and a number of Dr Who episodes themselves, including, Journey to the Centre of the Tardis were filmed there. Plus, they have a big Dr Who Experience exhibition down by the bay. These very shelves feature in the background in Journey to the Centre of the Tardis. Exciting indeed.

I leave you with a close up of some of the shelves, the Dr Who director left the same books in when they filmed the episode…

A closer look, from the library at Cardiff Castle

 

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What on Earth is the ‘StokeyLitFest’?

The Stoke Newington Literary Festival, or as it’s more affectionately known, the StokeyLitFest, is quite possibly the coolest lit fest on the planet. And it’s getting bigger year by year. If you live in London, you’ve probably heard of it. But living Down Under, I hadn’t — until this big UK trip of mine.

It’s a short bus ride for me from my mind-boggingly ‘compact’ accommodation near King’s Cross Railway Station. I arrived in London a few days ago, and the Festival is my first, full-on writing event. It’s where I’ve been spending my day today. It’s a two-day festival, in its sixth year, and here’s what I chose to see…

Tracy Thorn

Tracey Thorn

The wonderful Tracey Thorn, from Everything But the Girl fame, was a special highlight of the day. She was at the festival to promote her second memoir, Naked at the Albert Hall. Amongst many things, she talked in detail about her very real stage fright, leading her to make the decision not to perform live as a singer again.

She also recounted many funny anecdotes, such as the challenge — as a well known and highly regarded singer — of singing ‘Wheels on the bus’ in play groups. Would she somehow be expected to perform the song far better than the other parents? Should she try to? Or maybe she should be doing the opposite?

She also talked about her love of the X-Factor TV show, to everyone’s surprise!

Mark Ellen (Q mag, NME, Live Aid…)

Mark Ellen (right) with Danny Kelly

Mark Ellen was at the festival to talk about his very exciting-looking book (well, to me), called Rock Stars Stole My Life! It’s all about his experiences working for some of the greatest UK music publications Q, NME and many others, and commentating for Live AID (which I watched the telecast of from start to finish on the other side of the world, while living in Canberra, Australia).

Both Mark and Danny spoke at breathless speed, trying to fit in as many of their amazing experiences as they could. It was both overwhelming and mind-blowing. My favourite quote: ‘But it wasn’t all laughs and drugs and stuff,’ — when talking about the screaming matches that could occur between different music staff.

While I attended numerous other sessions, I’ll tell you about one more, because — in truth, I only have the energy to tell you about one more (I’m keen to head off to bed!)…

Richard King

Richard King (left)

Richard King worked for years in Bristol’s notoriously ‘independent’ record store Revolver, and has written about his experiences in Original Rockers, especially about the store’s aloof manager who refused to sell customers records by bands he didn’t approve of, even if the store stocked them. Or, the reverse, treating his customers with great disdain for their lack of good taste and refusing to sell them albums by the likes of Tim Buckley if he didn’t believe the customer looked worthy enough. Classic independent record shop stuff taken to its absolute level.

As you can see, I chose to attend rather a lot of music-related events. Such is the person I am. I leave you with two more pictures from the day…

Tracey Thorn again (and why not?)

Mark Ellen and me

You can check out the festival’s website here.

 

 

 

 

 

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What on Earth is the StokeyLitFest?

The Stoke Newington Literary Festival, or as it’s more affectionately known, the StokeyLitFest, is quite possibly the coolest lit fest on the planet. It’s in London, and a short bus ride for me from my mind-boggingly pokey accommodation near King’s Cross Railway Station. I arrived in London a few days ago, and the Festival is my first, full-on writing event. It’s where I’ve been spending my day today. It’s a two-day festival, in its sixth year, and here’s what I chose to see…

Tracy Thorn

Tracey Thorn

The wonderful Tracey Thorn, from Everything But the Girl fame, was a special highlight of the day. She was at the festival to promote her second memoir, Naked at the Albert Hall. Amongst many things, she talked in detail about her very real stage fright, leading her to make the decision not to perform live as a singer again.

She also recounted many funny anecdotes, such as the challenge — as a well known and highly regarded singer — of singing ‘Wheels on the bus’ in play groups. Would she somehow be expected to perform the song far better than the other parents? Should she try to? Or maybe she should be doing the opposite?

She also talked about her love of the X-Factor TV show, to everyone’s surprise!

Mark Ellen (Q mag, NME, Live Aid…)

Mark Ellen (right) with Danny Kelly

Mark Ellen was at the festival to talk about his very exciting-looking book (well, to me), called Rock Stars Stole My Life! It’s all about his experiences working for some of the greatest UK music publications Q, NME and many others, and commentating for Live AID (which I watched the telecast of from start to finish on the other side of the world, while living in Canberra, Australia).

Both Mark and Danny spoke at breathless speed, trying to fit in as many of their amazing experiences as they could. It was both overwhelming and mind-blowing. My favourite quote: ‘But it wasn’t all laughs and drugs and stuff,’ — when talking about the screaming matches that could occur between different music staff.

While I attended numerous other sessions, I’ll tell you about one more, because — in truth, I only have the energy to tell you about one more (I’m keen to head off to bed!)…

Richard King

Richard King (left)

Richard King worked for years in Bristol’s notoriously ‘independent’ record store Revolver, and has written about his experiences in Original Rockers, especially about the the store’s aloof manager who treated his customers with great disdain for their lack of good taste, refusing to sell them records he didn’t approve of, even if the store stocked them. Or, the reverse, if he believed the customer wasn’t worthy enough to purchase the music.

As you can see, I chose to attend rather a lot of music-related events. Such is the person I am. I leave you with two more pictures from the day…

Tracey Thorn again (and why not?)

Mark Ellen and me

You can check out the festival’s website here.

 

 

 

 

 

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I’ve signed up for a writers’ retreat in Shropshire, UK

Shropshire, in case you didn’t know — I didn’t! — is between Cardiff and Manchester, in the UK. You have to catch a train that leaves from either of those places to get there. And now, amongst my growing list of writerly things to do in the UK, I’ve signed up for a week-long writers’ retreat in an out-of-the-way manor located somewhere in the ‘rolling hills’ of Shropshire. No mobile phone signal. No Internet. No social media. (Oh, what?)

The manor, called The Hurst, once belonged to British playwright John Osborne. Mr John Osborne’s most famous play is Look Back in Anger. In fact, the term angry young man was coined to describe him. Look Back in Anger was also a highly successful film from the late 50s, starring the wonderful Richard Burton. 

Of course, John Osborne won’t be there to greet me when I arrive and to help bring in my bags. (He died in 1994.) But I will be in his old home with a group of fellow enthusiastic writers for a week.

So what do writers do on writers’ retreats? (I hear you ask.) Well, write a lot, obviously. (At least, I hope that will be true.) But I’ve selected to go to one of their retreats that isn’t totally heads-down and write, write, write. We’ll be talking about writing too! There will be morning group sessions conducted by established authors, and one-on-one sessions throughout the week.

I believe every writer can benefit from a retreat, no matter your level of experience, and I’m just as much looking forward to learning new things from my fellow emerging writers as I am from the well-established writers. Like any creative art form, you never stop learning, and from all directions.

An angry young man

The retreat’s afternoons will generally be given over to one’s own writing, back in the privacy of your own room. I plan to focus that time on Beneath the Surface (the complete draft of which, by the way, is still currently on Wattpad).

It’s only the evenings I’m less keen on. There will be cooking teams for the dinners, with everyone taking turns. Oh dear, cooking isn’t really my thing. Not sure how I’ll fare there.

So let’s quickly get back to the writing. The Arvon Foundation run the retreats and courses at The Hurst. (They also have locations in West Yorkshire and Devon. Arts Council England support them.) The established authors at my retreat will be:

Mavis Cheek

Mavis Cheek is the author of 15 novels. Pause Between Acts won the She/John Menzies First Novel Prize. More about Mavis Cheek here.

Stephen May

Stephen May has written three books including Life! Death! Prizes! which was shortlisted for the Costa Book Award. His latest novel is Wake Up Happy Every Day. More about Stephen May here.

Selma Dabbagh

Selma Dabbagh is a British-Palestinian writer who gained fame in 2011 with Out of It, an acclaimed novel centred on the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. More about Selma Dabbagh here.

I have read none of the author’s books, I must confess, and will need to get cracking and download at least one thing from each of them before I head off. One more task to add to my still-long Going Away To Do List.

I’m not sure yet if the above authors will be living-in with the rest of us (if so, they’d better be in a cooking team!), but I expect so. The Hurst manor looks to be quite a big place with plenty of room for us all. Here’s a little something I found in The Shropshire Star about the restoration of the 200-year-old Georgian manor in readiness for its new role as a writers’ retreat.

I couldn’t find any pre-restoration shots, but here’s how it looks now…

Do you like checking out other people’s bookshelves? I couldn’t help but notice those shelves in the above pic. Tidy! They put mine to shame. Checking out other people’s shelves can be rather revealing sometimes. What’s in those two, I wonder? Just John Osborne’s stuff? I’ll have a look when I get there, and let you know. Other people’s bookshelves can be little glimpses into their worlds.

Here’s a bookshelf from my home. (Plus dog.) Not quite so tidy, I’m afraid.

Here’s a slightly tidier one, I’m happy to say. Yep, that’s 45s and LPs on the lower shelves. (I like to check out other people’s record collections too. That’s just a bit of mine.)

And one more. A random bookshelf from my place of work…

Pretty tidy again, perhaps it’s a corporate thing. Not even a stray book chucked on top. And what’s with that book Insults?

I have significantly drifted from my main topic about writer’s retreats. I promise I will tell you more about the retreat once I get there (or afterwards, really, given it’s in a blank zone, phone signal and internet-wise).

If all goes well, my next post will be from London. I’m flying out from Down Under next week and will be in a position to speak first-hand about writerly things in the land Up Over, as I encounter them.

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