Red Room Where the Writers Are

For a long time, I've never been sure about the answer to that question. I've always wanted to be a writer, and over the years I've managed to write a considerable amount. I remember reading about the University of East Anglia Creative Writing MA, and thinking that might be nice, but  it seemed a bit far away from London, and how would I get the money anyway? As the years passed, life  became  busy and my writing began to take a back seat.   I fell in love, got married, had children in swift succession, and my writing ambitions were trampled flat. Or so I thought.

It was then that a strange thing happened. Two friends began MAs in creative writing, one sister started taking poetry workshops, my twin did a correspondence course in romantic fiction. And I began to wonder, if they can do it, perhaps I can too. But still I wasn't sure. It seemed like a lot of money (and we don't have much). And what could a writing course teach me anyway? After all Dickens and the Brontes didn't learn their craft that way, so why should I? By this time, my brain had cleared from the baby years and part-time working had helped me rediscover my writing self. So when my friend, Anne,  sent me the details of an MSt in Oxford, I thought, oh well, I  might as well try. To my surprise, they gave me a very nerve-wracking interview. But then said I wasn't quite good enough for the MSt. Fair enough, and I'd have probably left it there, but they offered me a place on the Undergraduate Diploma instead. I wrestled with the decision for weeks. The course wasn't quite the one I wanted, offering poetry, drama, and fiction, but no room to specialise. It was every week for 2 years rather than termly residentials, which felt like a burden. And unlike a Masters, there were no obvious sources of funding.

In the end I went for it, took out a loan, and decided to give it my all. For the last two years I've been trekking across Oxford for long Monday evenings studying each genre in turn. Was it worth it?On the whole I think it was.  Even the poorest tutors gave me nuggets that made me consider how to improve the quality of my writing. The very best of them were warm and encouraging, opening  my eyes to the techniques I could use that would really add depth. I learnt that it takes me a very long time to get anywhere, that I have to write several versions before I'm even beginning to create anything decent. I hurt my head struggling to cram my big ideas into the tiny form of a poem. I learnt that my dialogue is my best feature, which opened up the world of drama to me. And I learnt that sharing work with peers who are talented, and can offer positive criticism is the most enriching way to work.

The biggest drawback of the course was it's academic rigour, a relentless round of assignments that were judged on a sometimes infuriating level of pedantry. This left me quite exhausted and at times my confidence was really wrecked. So I'm looking forward to going on a very different course this week.  Run by Faber and Faber, and held at the iconic Shakespeare & Co in Paris, I'm going to have the opportunity to hang out with novelists Andrew Miller and Sarah Hall, meet other writers like myself, and I hope pick up a few tips that will help my novel-writing.

As to my original question. No, I don't think you can teach people to write. You can write or you can't. What you can do is teach people how to hone their skills, and develop themselves to the best of their abilities. That's what the Diploma did for me, and I'm hoping my Paris trip will add to.  I can't wait.