The Creative Identity

Try This

Age ain't nothing but a number. -Various- When I was six, I thought that thirty-six qualified as geriatric. When I turned twenty-five I decided that, upon hitting thirty, I would say that I was, in fact, thirty-five because I figured that everyone would gasp and tell me how good I looked. When the time came though (and it only just came, if you care to know), I didn't feel ready to wish five years I hadn't lived away. They say that you're only as old as you feel, which preoccupies me because on certain days it is ten, but on others it is eighty, and so we all have a slightly odd-and-twisted relationship with age. So let's try to write about it, shall we? How old would you like to be right now? Write about it. Read more →

A Bit of Housekeeping

There are many things that I am good at and very many that I am really awful at. One of the latter is self-promotion. Yes, you heard, self-promotion. While I am a marketer's dream, for I sign up and buy everything under the sun and moon, I am a marketing guru's nightmare, for I set up all of my things to run beautifully and then forget about them. When I run workshops I usually end up printing the notes the day before because it only just occurs to me at the very last second that, hey, there's some enabling of creativity to be done tomorrow, woo hoo, have I got a copy for everyone? I'm almost six months into The Creative Identity and not once have I mentioned the workshops. Only once have I mentioned the short story competition which closes at the end of this month. So today I feel like I am high-jacking my own personal space in order to flag up a couple of very important things. The Short Story Competition on Identity closes on 30 June. Enter now! When I launched the competition in March I really didn't know what to expect. A few weeks in, and zero entries to speak of, I started wondering whether setting the same closing date as The Bridport Prize, but with only one-fiftieth of the prize money, was a little... ill-advised. Well, I needn't have worried because it's evident that you're all my sort of people, writers who leave everything... Read more →

Writing Mentors

Sophie by Galia Alena Writing mentors, like fabulous friends, great lovers and oodles of cash, are a fantastic addition to one's life. They too, sadly, do not grow on trees. The prime question is not, where do I find a mentor, but, do I need a mentor at all? Need is a word that is a little abused these days. You can be a perfectly happy writer without anyone spurring you on and making the learning curve less severe. But if there is this someone in your life... well, you're one lucky dude. What is a mentor? A mentor is often mistaken for a pygmalion but while they can be one and the same, if you expect your mentor to be a pygmalion, you run into problems. A mentor is there to help you and guide you, not propel you towards super-stardom. While he may turn out to be the super-well-connected expert who can pass your precious manuscript to your dream agent, networking, palm-greasing and publishing deals aren't part of a mentor's job description. A mentor nourishes and helps you grow. A mentor supports you and inspires you. A mentor rejoices in your successes and keeps a cool head when you hit the fan in a rage or melt into the tear-filled puddle of rejection. A mentor is a lifeline when you've run out of patience, hope or ideas; he is the guiding light who may not have all the answers but will surely seek them out on your behalf.... Read more →

Try This

I take a sun bath and listen to the hours, formulating and disintegrating under the pines, and smell the resiny hardi-wood of the high noon hours. The world is lost in a blue haze of distances and the immediate sleeps in a thin and finite sun. –Zelda Fitzgerald– Last Christmas an online friend of mine bought me a membership of The Cloud Appreciation Society. I was thrilled, as I didn't even know it existed, and because my friend had picked up on my interest in weather, the sky, rain and passing clouds. I think we've all gazed up at the blue sky from time to time and Charlie Brown and his friends are known to spend afternoons with their chubby little arms crossed behind their heads, talking about clouds and what they look like, and where they are going and where they have come from. If, like me, you live in England... well dear reader, you're blessed with lots of clouds all the time. Could they be used as an inspiration? Go cloudbathing and write about who you've met in the sky above. Read more →

The 21.5.800 Project: First Update

I've been sitting here for the past hour trying to drop the set of balls that would allow me to write what I am about to write. All I've gained has been a racing heart and slightly sweaty palms. And no dear reader, I haven't got any cosmic revelation about my self, sexuality, financial status, spiritual enlightenment or political leaning to break to you, it's just that I have decided to share some of my writing and it feels rather awkward and life-threatening. You'll be excused to arch your eyebrows until they merge into your hairline at this point because, yes of course, I know that I share my writing on here all of the bloody time for crying out loud so what's the big deal on this one? Ehrm... the big deal is that I am a closeted fiction writer. I have been since I went to university and my imagination was beaten into submission by shelves and shelves of books by critics, as I told you in passing right here, and about how proper writing is done and about what proper writing is. At some point I thought, 'Blimey, I am not sure I want to write fiction anymore... look at how nasty and clinical all of these people are with their criticisms!' I felt The Anxiety of Influence weighting upon me like the proverbial ton of bricks and it wasn't until many years later, when I watched Ratatouille, that I started hopping from foot to foot, trying... Read more →