Author diaries

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29 March 2005 Entry: "Thieves, Miners and Journeys"

I've just finished the Spring Creative Writing School at Newcastle University, theme: Journeys.
I've had a wonderful week with a wide variety of approaches from great tutors. Trying to feel like a tourist in my own city has led to the beginnings of a poem about How To Get Lost, and remembering other journeys has started me on a short story about my mother when she was a chorus girl before the war.
The weather was kind, too, as our friendly bunch of students from around the world explored all that Newcastle and Gateshead had to offer - music, art galleries, parks, chinese food, bridges and metro trains.
Now it's cold and gloomy again, I'm huddling indoors and I've been thinking about the experience. I've decided that writing a poem is like being a Thief and working on a short story requires you to be a Miner.
A Thief goes about opportunistically snatching images, words, phrases, odd juxtapositions and swiftly fills the swag bag, then darts back to the hideout and tips it all out, carefully sifting and arranging the contents, seeking the treasure in their assortment of goods.
A Miner goes slower, chooses a spot, then starts to dig and dig, carefully revealing the seam that lies buried beneath the surface, then skillfully cuts away the dross until the ore is left.
Probably not an original comparison but it felt like that to me, and I enjoyed being both. Looking back, I've probably ruined poems going at them like a miner, plodding too heavily; poems need a light touch, an almost subconscious approach. A short story by a thief will be all surface and shiny bits but no underlying tug that drives the deeper life of the story. I'm sure someone will come up with an argument proving the complete opposite, and of course, both require that you finish them, otherwise they are nothing but bits of paper in a filing cabinet. I shall bring my new-found determination and selfishness to bear on it all and finish them both.
Every time I feel a pang of guilt, I banish it and tell myself that doing what I want is good for me and my writing. So other jobs get laid aside and I read or write instead.
I really enjoyed June Portlock's The Colour of Pegs, it made me laugh and I admire her courage and determination to get her work into print. There's that D word again. We get nowhere without it. I also enjoyed Ann Coburn's new children's novel, Glint, which is like two books in one as she weaves an ancient story into a modern one and combines both as a page turning mystery/thriller. She came to visit my Writing for Children Group while I was on the Spring Course, and gave them all a dose of inspiration.
Talking of Miners, I also went to the packed reading of Fiona Evans's new play We Love You Arthur at The Cluny. It's very funny, and a look back at the Miners' Strike from a young girl's perspective. Fiona's ear for dialogue is witty and convincing, she's planning on taking it to the Edinburgh Festival this autumn, so catch it then if you can.
I also reread Northern Lights by Philip Pullman, for Jackie Kay's Writing for Children course that I attended at Newcastle University earlier this year. I got so caught up in the story again, that I whizzed through the rest of the trilogy and noticed things I'd either missed or forgotten from before.
I went to visit Julia on Saturday, she was pink and beautiful, and we had sweet vanilla tea from Mauritius. She was saying she wasn't afraid of dying, as she imagined it just how Philip Pullman described it: your molecules floating up and away, and you become part of everything, like the beginning of a grand new journey. She made it sound so exciting and joyous. What an amazing woman.