Swanwick: Intelligent Silliness and Thelma’s Pants

This posting should have been a detailed account of how hard we’re all working and all the writerly activities we are getting up to. As the title suggests, I may well fail in that objective.

Joyce Ward set the tone for her Chairman’s Welcome when she informed us that the numbers are up this year; there are 3.5 women for every man; and there are 55 white badgers (or Swanwick virgins), of whom 7 are Top Writers. She didn’t tell us what this influx of youngsters has done to the average age of attendees – we were left to work that one out for ourselves. We learned that Xanthe and Peter are co-habiting in a cupboard; we whooped like an audience at The Good Old Days when the raffle prizes were announced; then applauded the winners of the annual competitions. Swanwick 2012 was thoroughly launched.

My journey to Swanwick had been less than wonderful. Stuck at the opposite end of a jam-packed train from the refreshment trolley, I was one of the few people in the carriage who didn’t come prepared with bags of sandwiches, crisps and cans of drink. I almost resorted to the emergency chocolate buttons but remembered just in time that after a week of three meals a day at the Hayes, I would look back on a missed lunch as appropriate preparation.

Arriving at Derby with more than an hour before the coach was due to leave, I expected to find myself a quiet corner of the cafe and get on with my book. What I actually found was a noisy gathering of Swanwickers that gradually swelled to a crowd as more trains arrived. We immediately fell into the usual “what are you writing” and “what courses are you going to attend — or give” conversations. Within minutes, I was answering questions relating to my own topic (writing as a business) and noting recommendations for more reading around my dissertation subject. The rest of the afternoon flew by with visits to the book room, chats with old friends, plus the aforementioned Chairman’s Welcome and soon we were queuing for supper — oh, how I’ve missed my annual meal-time queues!

I can report that food portions are as generous as ever and the custard is even brighter yellow than I remember it.  Only one thing marred the evening – the news that the chocolate man won’t be with us on Wednesday. How will I be able to return home without the usual ‘I Love You’ heart?
All of which brings me to the intelligent silliness (his agent’s description) of Steve Hartley, who was the guest speaker. Not having any children or grandchildren, I have to confess I’ve never read any of the Danny Baker Record Breaker series — but I may well have to fix that, after hearing Steve talk about the fifteen years it took him to get published and the lessons he learned along the way. His stories about brown penguins, armpit orchestras and being banned from one primary school were memorable. His five rules for getting published are well thought through and each one was illustrated with cautionary tales. [I was particularly struck by rule four: get lucky] Steve told us he was only allowed to speak if he agreed to bring one of his props with him. No, it wasn’t The World’s Biggest Bogey. It was Thelma’s pink spotted pants and therefore, I think it is only fitting that I close this account of day 1 at Swanwick with the picture of 11 writers breaking the record for the greatest number of people in one pair of pants.

Swanwick: S Day minus 1

Every year, during the second week in August, around 300 writers gather in Swanwick for the Writers' Summer School, which has been running for more than sixty years. I don't think any of the current delegates having been going from the very beginning — but some have been attending for the past twenty or thirty years. They talk about 'the magic of Swanwick' and reminisce about the days before the rooms were upgraded to en-suite facilities and all the walkways between the conference rooms were roofed in. Throughout the year, regular attendees keep in touch via Facebook and the Swanwick monthly newsletter. They yearn for tea and cakes on the lawn; the chance to catch up with old friends; and the opportunity to peruse new releases in the book room.

I first attended Swanwick in 2006 and, frankly, found the whole experience rather overwhelming. There was a small group of us, all white-badgers (as first-timers are called) who alternated between throwing ourselves into everything that was going on (until exhaustion took over around day 4) and trying to keep out of trouble (not laughing at the serious bits or being late for notices or meal-times). It felt rather like moving to the ‘big school’ for the first time.

I returned in 2008 and 2009, during which time I learnt to be more selective about the timetable and allowed myself some down-time during the week.  I also presented a session on writing as a small business. In 2010, I managed just one day and two nights; last year, I missed Swanwick altogether due to pressure of the day-job.

This year I am returning for the whole week. This time tomorrow, I will be on a train heading towards Derby and the Hayes Conference Centre. I am looking forward to meeting old friends once more — and getting to know writers that I have so far only ‘met’ via Facebook. I am also presenting another session on the business of writing and leading a write-around hour. For the first time, I am attending not as a part-time writer of non-fiction, taking time out of the day-job, but as a full-time writer; so this year, Swanwick is part of the day-job.

I don’t know whether I will come away from Swanwick talking about magic and counting the days to next year; I do know that I’m going to enjoy the opportunity to ‘work, rest and play’ with lots of other writers over the next week - and that I will return home full of energy and ideas.

Time Management for Grasshoppers

I've been thinking a lot about time management recently.

I've been a writer for three months now. Well - that's not strictly true - I've been a writer for a long time and a published author for nearly fifteen years. However, at the end of March, I 'retired' from technical consultancy in order to write full-time.

This week, I got the opportunity to write my first guest blog, thanks to Susan Howe and The Long and The Short of It. http://howesue.wordpress.com/ I used it to write about some of the lessons I'd learned about writing. They turned out to centre on how I manage my time. At the same time, discussion threads on a couple of my Facebook Group talked about dealing with distractions and other aspects of time management.

I would classify my approach to life as that of a grasshopper. I've been working in an industrial setting for more than thirty years; I've co-run a small business for the past twenty years. I get involved in other activities at the drop of a hat and jump from one thing to another as they take my interest. I couldn't have done that without learning to manage my time. So here are my top tips:

1. Your diary is a critical tool. I use an A5 hard copy one, which will fit in my handbag. I've tried electronic formats, but they don't work for me. I need to be able to flick through the pages.(That's probably age-related). Decide which format suits you - and keep it with you at all time.
2. Your diary needs to be flexible, as priorities will change. If it's electronic, it can easily be updated. In my hard copy, I use pencil, NEVER pen - and I always have an eraser handy.
3. Periodically run through your To Do list (you do have one, don't you?) and check progress. I prepare a monthly one as a Mind Map, with daily ones on scraps of paper if I am particularly pressured for time. The monthly one is a brain dump and often helps to reduce any feelings of stress over having too much to do.
4. Learn to distinguish between items with a deadline, which are your MUSTS and those which can be moved around or pushed back, which are your WANTS.
5. When a MUST needs to be achieved, learn to ignore all the WANTS and concentrate on just one thing. Chances are, you will achieve it quicker and better that way.
6. When you've cleared the immediate MUSTS, you can go back to the WANTS. This is when I release the inner grasshopper and let her play for a while.

Flashing in Worcester

Last week, I received an email telling me that I was shortlisted in the Flash Fiction competition running in Association with the Worcestershire Literary Festival. Yesterday, I joined other finalists in reading our entries before the winners were announced.

I didn't make the top three, but still had great fun reading my story and listening to all the others. The ten short-listed entries can be found here: http://www.worcslitfest.com/see-the-finalists-flash-fiction-entries-here/.

Congratulations to Amy Rainbow for a winning entry that reduced the entire audience to tears; well-done to all the finalists; and thanks to the organisers - especially Lindsay, Calum and Polly.

Welcome to the Party!

Hello there; glad you could make it - welcome to the launch party. Leave a comment to say 'hi'. Email us for your glass of bubbly, gift voucher and entry to the prize draw: editors@chudleighphoenix.co.uk

Virtually a Party!

Tomorrow Sharon Cook and I will be throwing open all the rooms in our electronic house and holding a virtual party to celebrate the launch of Life is Not a Trifling Affair as an ebook.

Since we launched this first collection of short stories at the Chudleigh Literary Festival last July, we've had great fun learning about marketing, promotion and selling. We've held a pre-Christmas book fair, sold copies on Amazon, persuaded local libraries to stock it and started working our way through all the local book shops and gift shops. We've had some great feedback and we're pleased with the sales to date.

Now we're taking it one step further and have converted 'Trifles' to an ebook. It's available in formats to suit all sorts of devices. You can find it here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/127377

We will be partying tomorrow on Facebook, on Twitter, on Skype and here on the blog. Drop by for a glass of fizz, some cool music, discount vouchers and a prize draw with the chance to win your own copy for free.

Chain Letter with Currants

Ten days ago, a dear friend knocked on our door and proudly handed my husband a small food container and a sheet of instructions. This was our introduction to Herman, the Friendship Cake. Like the ginger beer factory that was doing the rounds when I was a child, it's a yeast mix that needs to be nurtured for several days, fed occasionally, then split into portions - one to be used and the remainder to be handed on to other 'lucky' recipients.

Our heads told us to quietly put it in the bin. Our hearts told us this would be unfeeling and unfriendly. So, we poured Herman into a bowl, grabbed a wooden spoon - and started stirring. Ten days of arguing and worry had begun. To start with, it was just a case of investing a little time - stirring every day and admiring the bubbles that started rising to the surface on day 2. Then on day 4, we were faced with feeding the thing: milk, sugar and self-raising flour. We have a cupboard full of plain flour and different bread flours - but hadn't bought any self-raising flour for years - so bought a small bag specially for this.

Now we'd started investing more than just our time, we faced the fact that in less than a week we would have 5 little Hermans to deal with. I started asking friends if they would like a portion - not wanting to put them on the spot at the last minute. And that's when I found that this thing was sweeping through our little town; everyone I spoke to knew about it - and most of them had already killed at least one so far.

In the middle of one of the busiest work-weeks of the year, I found myself taking time out to try and decide what to do. Flushing down the loo was still a favoured option, but that would mean wasting the ingredients we'd used so far. At one point, I suggested cooking all 5 portions and donating the extras to the church produce stall - until we realised this would involve 15 eggs plus copious amounts of flour, sugar, fruit etc.

I managed to get one friend to agree to take 2 portions - and if she's reading this, going away for the weekend is not a good enough excuse - they'll be waiting for you when you return.

After a second feed on day 9 - yet more milk, sugar and flour, we came to the final stage. At an ungodly hour this morning, we separated it all into different boxes and kept one portion back. As I weighed out the final set of ingredients - trying to ignore the part of my brain that was adding up all the sugar in this thing - I had one final moment of lucidity. There's still time to end this madness. Don't crack those eggs; put the flour back in the cupboard - but too late. As I write this, I can smell cinnamon - it's almost like Christmas. The cake is rising beautifully - and we may even get to share some of it with the friend who started this whole thing for us.

My parents warned me about chain letters when I was very small; I have no problems with hitting the delete button on every petition, sympathy call or other electronic device to draw me in. My head still wonders why we got pulled in to this one. I'll ponder it anew later over a cuppa - with maybe just a little slice of cake.

Anyone fancy giving a home to little Herman?