Driving Out Drivel

Dingwall-based ANDREA MUIR records her adventures on the writing course at the Arvon Foundation’s centre in deepest Devon.

Amongst the bits of scrap paper, straightened paper clips and fuzzed up Post It notes I found the Arvon Foundation Brochure.

‘The Arvon Foundation is an organisation that provides writing courses for anyone who has a genuine desire to write,’ it said.  Well, that’s me, I thought.
 

I had been on an Arvon course at Moniack Mhor last year and it really made a difference to my writing and to me.  So, I flicked the pages of the brochure and then despondently realised that all the courses would be booked up and anyway, I couldn’t afford to go. 

However, distraction techniques are great and I discovered, at the back of the brochure, that there were two Selected Advanced Fiction courses being offered - one at Lumb Bank in Yorkshire and one at Totleigh Barton in Devon.  To be selected you had to send off a ‘Writing CV’, a synopsis and ten pages of the novel you were working on. 

There was no way I would be selected.  Of this I was sure. Real writers would be selected.  Writers with BA’s and MA’s and talent would be selected. 

So, in the full and happy knowledge that nothing would come of it other than a distraction filled afternoon – I battered out a writing CV, and put in an envelope along with my ten pages of the novel that I was avoiding work on and sent if off.
 

3 November 2003 

So, here I am at Totleigh Barton. Not only did I get selected – obviously - but the Arvon Foundation and HI-Arts supplied the funds that have made it all possible. (Thank you! Thank you!) I’ve had one of the longest journeys of my life. Dumped Mum and Dad at my sister’s in Cardiff on Saturday and then spent two deeply disconcerting nights sleeping on an airbed on the floor at her house.  Airbeds are strange things.
 

Then today I drove from Cardiff to darkish Devon.  Dusk was falling and the country lanes were canopied with tangly trees covered in varying amounts of rusty foliage. (You see – the inspiration is thrumming already!)

I was greeted by Ian Marchant, one of the Directors of the Centre, who showed me to me room which is in a block that used to house pigs.  Ian is good bloke.  The room is fine, so shall go and explore.
 

Met the others – seem all right but then appearances can be deceptive. 

Sat next to Andrew Greig at dinner.
 

4 November 2003

7.30am Woken by much door slamming and toilet flushing.  This place has very thin walls. Stuff head under duvet.

Last night, Andrew Greig and Linda Anderson, the other tutor, told us what we would be doing for the rest of the week.  Apparently, we are going to do workshops to ‘get our work to become the best it can be.’ We’re not allowed to ‘defend’ our work.  We ‘must let others have their say’.  We are to ‘gather in the comments and sift them later’.  We’ll need ‘emotional toughness’ but, apparently, we will ‘surreptitiously get inspiration.’

I’d been hoping for lots of writing exercises and writerly chatter. What’s wrong with free-spirited creativity?  What’s wrong with having lots of excuses for drivel written, after all ‘it’s only an exercise’?  No such luck.  I am about to go to the dining room to sit around the huge oak table with eighteen people I don’t know, including two people who have their names on the covers of critically acclaimed novels, and they are going to spend 45 minutes ‘having their say’ so that I can exercise my ‘emotional toughness.’  Not happy.

6.20pm Mm. After the grilling (which was really very useful) had a ‘one to one’ with Andrew.  He was very kind.

Washing up after dinner tonight.

5 November 2003

Decided I’m STOOPID!  This is not self-deprecation.  Just simple truth. Woke up this morning not with door slamming but brain slamming the words -‘DECONSTRUCTING DOESTCHEVSKY’ around my head. (I can’t spell it or say it).  Hours and hours it went on.  Also discovered yesterday that I can’t say ‘juxtaposition’.

2pm Decided to stop panicking.  I’m cooking tonight so that’ll be okay.  Lambs chops, roasted vegetables and cous cous followed by flambéed bananas.  Ian has promised to do the honours with the brandy because he’s got a lighter.

LATER:  Food whent welll – such loverly people here! Cooked with Pat AND Lane and Rosemary! Ha! Lamsb chups nd Rosiemarny!!!! ShE ‘S LOVrely too.

Bannnoas were graeta.  Guest readr heere – very fujnny lttlen man. \I LOVe Bieng a Wirter!!!!

6 November 2003

9.40am Class starts in ten minutes – just woken up - write later.

1.30pm Starting to feel a bit better with the aid of gallons of Coke, orange juice, coffee and Paracetamol, handed freely around the table by the lovely, kind, life-saving Fiona, who in the real world is an A&E doctor.  Sarah The Amazingly Angry shared my pain.

On my arrival at class I was greeted with applause.  Seems I made an ‘enlightening’ comment to the guest reader last night.  Oh dear.  Me and my big mouth.  Hold my head in shame...

6.00pm To pay penance for my misdemeanour, for which I am incidentally still receiving much back-slapping, I have written all afternoon.  Taken on board what people have said about my work and listened to what they are saying about others work and you know, I think I’ve got it!  Having literally lost the plot of my book – it has returned and brought some friends. HOORAY!

Been over to the Barn (the sort of social meeting place – lovely – high ceilings, enormous red sofas, beams and giant hanging Calor gas heaters) and been singing with Pat and Andrew.  They’re both guitar men.  Only trouble was I couldn’t remember the words to anything.  Never mind.  ‘Twas fun.  Got to get ready now - there’s an agent (SCARY MAN, BIG TEETH, BIG ROUND EYES AND A FIN) coming to speak to us tonight. 

9.30pm What a nice man and everybody looks really smart this evening.  I hadn’t realised how very pretty some of us can be.

3am jaso;kdjhnbafffffffffff        ;’.,#>,,m ,,

7 November 2003

8.45am  I’ve cracked it.  I’m up.  The sun is shining.  I’m a writer.

2pm  Just having a little lie down.

6pm  Much refreshed after a little lie down.  On my way to see Andrew.  He should have read what I have written while I’ve been here by now.  Eek!

6.40pm  He has read it and we have discussed various plot twists and turns and nuances and points of view and character development and … he said he likes it (!)  He said that ‘something’ has happened to my writing over the week.  (Which is not exactly true that it all happened in the week because the work he had seen before was sent in July and I’d changed lots since then).  Anyway, I’m so satisfied with the week.  It’s been like a huge buffet that you can keep going back to over and over again and finding more and more delights and yet you never get full, just replete… aah!  Anyway, last night tonight.  Everyone is doing a ‘turn’.  Should be fun with such a great bunch of multi-talented people.

LATER: I haven’t laughed so much in years…

8 November 2003 

10.00am That’s it then.  Over.  Finished. Last night was sort of … poignant. We’ve all become close in the week and we’ve all learned a lot and gained a lot and chances are we’ll never see one another again.

Got a long drive ahead – pick up the parents – then properly home tomorrow.

18 November 2003

Home now and the rain is lashing the window.  The weather is suitably morose and the Totleigh Barton experience seems like a lifetime ago.

Have to put together a ‘submission pack’ for the agent who came to see us on the course.  All the students got a letter saying he’d love to see our work!  But gotta be realistic and I’m grateful to be used to rejection.  Sob.  But you never know this might be the one!

Quite busy writing for Channel 4’s IDEASFACTORY website.  Went to interview a really nice woman yesterday called Erica Munro.  She’s getting her first book - Guilty Feet - published next year.

I’M NOT JEALOUS.  I’M NOT JEALOUS.  I’M NOT JEALOUS.  Learned about affirmations from one of the Totleigh lot.  Apparently if you keep saying the same thing over and over again it happens….  I’M 23, I’M 23, I’M 23.

Better face the storm that is battering the house.  Got to go to the bank.  I’M RICH. I’M RICH. I’M RICH.
 

Related links

• Arvon Foundation