by Fiona on February 23, 2010
One of the bonuses of studying Creative Writing at university – aside from the intellectual rigour and support of the academic environment – is the number of ‘professional activities’ that students can engage in. A quick glance at some of the MA courses in the UK shows there are plenty of practical and vocational opportunities that go beyond a dedication to the craft of writing. The most common ones include:
- editing an anthology of student work
- readings and public presentation of work (e.g. festivals, book launches, open mic events)
- collaborating with experts in other media, like video producers or illustrators
- teaching and mentoring young writers
I’m almost embarrassed to admit how much advantage I’ve taken of all the opportunities on offer on my Graduate Diploma course at BCU. Along with fellow students I’ve done public readings galore (including the Birmingham Book Festival, End of Year shows, and Anthology launch events) and had the chance to run workshops and teach Creative Writing sessions in schools. I’ve loved it all, even if I do sometimes feel as if I’ve got my hand permanently in the sweetie jar.
Why get involved?
For me, they’re a chance to collaborate with friends who share your passion and an opportunity to notch up professional credits on your Writer’s CV. Also, these activities can build a curious kind of momentum and lead to other engagements – invitations to teach, to speak publicly, writing commissions and so on.
But best of all it’s fun. You get to play at being a writer, doing trial runs of the stuff that real writers do.
When I was a little girl my mum kept a pair of gold shoes under her bed. They were her special ‘dancing shoes’. And my greatest treat was to be allowed to try them on, wobbling precariously as I strutted around the bedroom in them, with a silk scarf draped over my shoulders for added sophistication. And that’s how doing these professional activities makes me feel sometimes – like trying to walk in grown-up shoes, practising for becoming a proper writer.
Staying faithful
The danger of course is turning into a person who doesn’t put writing first. While these professional activities are great to do, you (I) need to beware of them becoming a gigantic displacement activity. The question (and I guess it applies to writers at any stage of their career) is how to do the professional stuff while still maintaining fidelity to the writing. Because there are always temptations to pull us away from the desk and the sheer hard graft of getting the writing down.
As I approach the final stage of my Diploma course it’s time to take a deep breath and to ask of every new professional opportunity that comes my way, ‘how do you serve my writing?’ It sounds ruthless but it isn’t really. It’s about honouring my commitment to the thing that I love. And yes – occasionally staying away from the sweetie jar.
If you’re on a university writing course what sorts of professional opportunities have you been able to do? How do you balance the skills learned and the experience gained against the loss of writing time? If you’re an established writer how do you manage the ‘writerly’ stuff? It’d be good to know!
Fiona Joseph
by Fiona on January 30, 2010
Oh no, not the N-word…
Do I have to join in?
Book launches, industry events, writers’ conferences and festivals. There are all sorts of opportunities for the emerging writer to engage in that most dreaded of marketing activities. Yes, networking. In an ideal world all writers would be allowed to stay on the sidelines, doing that writerly thing of observing, analysing, noting down all the fascinating quirks of people behaviour. OMG, she’s stuffing the prawn vol au vents into her handbag! If only.
Can’t I just stay home instead?
Plant a little seed...
No, and I’ll tell you why. You know those packets of mixed seeds you can buy for cultivating a wild flower patch? The idea is you sprinkle them on the soil and in a few months you have a riot of beautiful varieties of poppies, marigolds, love-in-a-mist. Networking is like chucking a handful of seeds into the earth. You never quite know what seeds are going to make it, or when, but you can bet if you’ve sown enough seeds then some amazing opportunities will spring up, almost magically.
If like me you’re an introvert by nature – as many writers are – then don’t let those feelings of terror and timidness put you off networking events. Believe me, shyness is fine. In fact shyness seems endearingly sweet and quite cute compared to some of the behaviour I’ve encountered at networking occasions over the years.
My top 4 networking turn-offs
#1 Rudeness By this I mean those people who always look slightly past the side of your head when they’re talking to you, as though there might be someone of far greater interest/importance/influence on the other side of the room.
#2 Drunkeness and other immaturity Call me a control freak who likes to be in control of her faculties, but just because the wine is free doesn’t mean you have to get blind drunk. I was at an awards ceremony once where an industry colleague lurched towards me in a very drunken state and (accidentally I believe) tipped his glass of red wine all down my blouse. And then tried to dab at the stain with a napkin! Cool, huh?
#3 Insensitivity to the body language of groups. It’s usually obvious when pairs or groups of people are deep in conversation and don’t want to be interrupted. All the non-verbal clues are there: the speakers will be facing each other and forming a exclusively tight or ‘closed’ group, unlike an ‘open’ group where the speakers are standing side-by-side, facing slightly outwards. The open group is more amenable to being approached; the closed group will be severely irritated if anyone gatecrashes their private conversation, believe me. [For more reading on how to identify different groups then check out Andy Bounds' brilliant business communication book, The Jelly Effect.]
#4 General crassness/trying too hard. What’s really toe-curling is when complete strangers are clearly in sales mode. You’ve barely said hello when they’ve launched into the 10-second pitch of their book. Actually I’ve just come to enjoy myself, so show me you’re a human being not a robot. Tempt me first with some general conversation, crack a joke, even flirt a little. (Maybe scrub that last point but just, you know, chill out a bit.) And chances are I’ll be very interested to hear about your book.
Having read all that, aren’t you glad it’s only shyness you have to worry about?
What about you? Do you love networking events? Or are they your idea of hell? What have been your best, worst or funniest experiences? I’m dying to know.
Fiona Joseph
