Before you agree with the voices of reason and common sense and sadly pack away your writerly ambitions, consider why you enjoy writing. How does this particular form of creative expression make you feel? Happy, energised and worthwhile? If so, perhaps we should be taking these feelings seriously and pick up a pen, switch on the computer…start now. Anything will do, you know. Just start with a monologue, a picture of a flower, the exploration of your dream or a letter to God. Start.
If we have something that pesters our dreams or drives us, secretly we will probably know all about it. There will indeed be times when writing is definitely the most worthwhile thing we can do, just now. It certainly feels a million times better than frustration and regret, wondering what we might have achieved if only we had had the courage to take that first step. It is never too late to begin, but there are times when it is simply easier to take the hint: Think how much energy it takes, to keep shoving our passions aside.
“Cornwall Daffodils” by Mark Robinson
We don’t have to write our magnum opus all at once. We can come back to it, take it on little excursions as our next pet project. The best way to give your ideas room to breathe is to start small, and do at least a little writing every day. Decide to write for at least half an hour a day – about anything! – and soon, our doodles stretch themselves into something more substantial. Sketch out a few ideas, start with a few headings….be creative.
Call yourself a writer. Start to see yourself as one, and put that down on your passport application. Insert ‘writer’ as your occupation on the census, or on that application for a loan. Introduce yourself at parties and functions with, “I’m a writer” and you will start to feel a shift that makes it true. No-one is going to laugh in your face or say, “What, you? A writer?? I remember when you were just making it out of college. Your only ambition then was to get laid!” When you utter the words, “I am a writer” people will nod, look interested and ask you what you write about. Then, you can have an interesting conversation and maybe learn something that you will find useful. Saying, “I’m a writer” feels an awful lot better than, “I’m just a housewife” or “I’m unemployed”, don’t you think? (With apologies to all home makers, home economists and people looking for work.)
A new mini-series in which I explore how we start writing.
We start writing seriously when we finally accept that there is nothing we would rather do, than sit all day and craft a story. Or explain something that is dear to our hearts. Or cut a swathe through old literature with a bright new perspective.
Writing – or communicating with others – has to be what motivates us to leave aside the laundry, work late at night, ignore the telephone and neglect to cook complicated meals. In short, it has to be something of an obsession. If it is not, we will fail to prioritise it enough, give it our love, our thought, our energy, tears and precious time.
For every writer out there who does write and who is struggling to make it, there will be many dozens who say, “Yes, I would love to write, and I would be good at it, too. I have a great story to tell….” but who will look askance when it is suggested that they could put pen to paper, or fingers to the keyboard. “Yes, of course I would love to, but once I got started, I would never stop, and I have too much else to do!” Then, no matter how good our story, no matter how perfect our writing style or how witty our voice, nothing can happen. We write when we sit down to write, and nothing else will do. Simple.
Actually….not so simple. As soon as we sit down to write, a dozen or twenty other things that we “ought to be doing” will pop into our heads for a look see how we wasted five hours today. Everyone, is seems, has something better to do than write. Perhaps it is a very British obsession, this idea that we should be occupied with something ‘more worthwhile’. Sooner or later, most writers have to consider how they will handle the critic in their heads that suggests they “should” be doing something else more sensible, practical or lucrative. That voice, which talks such convincing common sense, may come from our family members, from disillusioned parents who only want the best for us; from our spouse who is worried about the monthly payments; from our colleagues who think we should stop taking all this creative stuff so seriously; from other writers who see nothing but difficulty and disillusionment coming our way, and from ourselves, when we are unused to doing something as frivolous as actually writing a book from start to finish.
By writing with energy and commitment, I hope to demonstrate a good example to my daughter. I know how much she copies me without being aware she is doing so, and my awareness of this process teaches me the importance of being a good example to follow. In this, we both win.
In a world in which women are still under-represented and often undervalued, it becomes a good idea to teach my daughter that she can thrive if she plays to her strengths; and that women can succeed by working doggedly at something which inspires them. They, as much as their male counterparts, have the right to devote time and energy to the things they enjoy.
I need to teach Seline that persistence is rewarded. What will that reward be? Feelings of personal satisfaction? The joy of discovering humour and excitement, of seeing something we have made and realising, ‘I made this, and actually, it’s really good!’ The pleasure of public recognition? A pay cheque? It doesn’t matter what motivates us, as long as we use our energy and awareness productively.
John William Waterhouse, ‘The Crystal Ball’
In writing almost solidly for the last nine years, I have finally – finally! – demonstrated to my doubting Thomas self the value of the power waiting to be unleashed when I work hard for long periods without apparent reward. In fact, I can demonstrate that already, as my daughter’s own work attitude has improved and from my example she is indeed learning the value of persistence.
We invest in the thoughts, hopes, ideas, dreams and plans that we find most energising. We then need the courage to see them as far to completion as we can, while allowing others to help us by offering suggestions, time, space and financial support to continue. I have spent money in the pursuit of my dreams, and often the investment, looked at in the cold light of day, would seem to be beyond sensible. But then, we all invest in our hopes. It is an investment worth making, even if the tangible rewards are hard to quantify.
When we woke early on Saturday morning and found two inches of snow blanketing our cars, I was very tempted to close the curtains and go back to bed. But daughter was excited about throwing snowballs – and it was exactly the right kind of packing snow – and hubby and I had a trip to Glasgow to undertake.
Thankfully the snow plows had been busy, and we made it to Glasgow only slightly later than planned – I felt a bit like James Bond, being parachuted into the lobby of the hotel, just in time to co-present an ice-breaker session with Michael McEwan. I needn’t have worried, as Conference got off to a relaxed start which helped us all to feel very much at home and among friends.
Michael enjoys improvising, whereas I am a more literal girl. I prefer to have some kind of script for workshops, which I learn and can then depart from as need be. I really enjoyed Michael’s humour and we make a great team. My husband – bless him – cheered for us both.
Thank you to the organisers, speakers and the other delegates for a wonderful day. It has been my pleasure these last few weeks to work with Jamie Szymkowiak and Michael McEwan to plan our session. Thanks to everyone involved, and to our brilliant speakers, for a fantastic day, and the opportunity to meet so many like-minded folk and discuss the issues that affect us all.
This morning I woke to a wonderful surprise, a letter by yours truly published in ‘The Herald’
SNP Disabled Members Conference, Glasgow, 30th January 2016.
On 30th January, I am attending the first ever SNP Conference for party members with disabilities, which is being held at the Crowne Plaza, Glasgow. I’m so pleased to see the SNP taking the lead on this, and I sincerely hope all the other Parties sit up and take notice. I am going with my wonderful husband, (who is a member of many years standing, unlike his green-stick wife); and I am so excited to be spending the day with him in such a setting, knowing that he has faithfully supported and successfully advocated for the rights of disabled people for many years.
I am co-presenting a warm-up session with the wonderful Michael McEwan, journalist extraordinaire.
I’m looking forward to a fantastic day, meeting friends, campaigners and decision-makers from all walks of life and parts of the country. I am very grateful to the organisers, in particular Jamie Szykoviak and Peter Murrell for offering such a valuable opportunity to us all.
There are a few places available, if you would like to attend what promises to be a wonderful day. You can find more information about the day at this link
I love the busy spell before the Festive break. Thinking about work projects that I would like to progress in the New Year, I have been outlining ideas and plans for 2016, so that they can take root while I have time to reflect on them over the holidays.
Hermann Fenner-Behmer – ‘What to write?’
I have a lot of exciting projects coming up. The radio play of Trapped is now largely finished. Though it perhaps needs a bit of tweaking, most of the work has been done. I hope that any future work with it will be collaborative – I would love to work with a producer, say, who has great ideas to add to the script. In the past, the attachment I have felt for ‘finished’ projects means that I have found it difficult to let them out into the world to fly – no longer!
As well as the radio play of Trapped I have begun an outline for a theatre production. It continues to astonish me how different are the book, the radio play, and the stage adaptation, almost as if I am writing about three different women.
Chic lit and women’s literature features in 2016. I will be progressing, outlining and submitting several full length works (up to about 75,000 words). Early in the New Year The Seduction of Susan Scott is my first offering, followed by Lisa Somerville, which may become a series of books around the main character. Then, there is Pip, a more serious story about a woman in a difficult relationship who has a child she adores. All these projects, as well as blogging and networking, are sure to keep me busy and entertained.
I am planning to attend the London Book Fair (12 – 14 April 2016) and the Frankfurt Book Fair in October. I shall be taking my work with me.
Thanks to all my friends and supporters for adding such joy and companionship to a very busy year. I am looking forward to starting work again in January. Meantime, I wish you all a wonderful Festive Season.
All dressed up, my daughter appeared through the front door in time to advise me to keep my jacket unbuttoned. (Not this jacket, a pink one).
Scottish writer Fran Macilvey, pictured in her home city of Edinburgh.
‘You are aiming for smart casual, right?’ I was grateful for her advice, and for confirmation that I passed muster, as I flew up and down the stairs, waiting for the cab. (Getting into town in my own car, in the evening in the midst of Edinburgh Festival Fringe Frenzy, is not to be contemplated.) Aware they are much in demand, taxis whizz in and out of the city centre like maniacs, like bears hoping to catch the autumn salmon migration from the river, before the quietness of September and the pre-Christmas austerity of October.
However, I digress.
The staff at the Venue helpfully said I was early, and then – joy of joys – my sister came, to keep me company, she said, and to help, and to be there. Given that she would be home late, I was especially touched by her generosity. Martha has always been so kind, and often in ways that I feel I don’t deserve. So, anyway, she and another Quaker friend visiting from Canada, went up to our event space and sat quietly for fifteen minutes. The room was set out with two long rows of chairs facing the windows. Aware of my mother’s urging to caution, I was quite prepared to speak to a select group of two, when the organiser came and mumbled something about letting the crowd in now, maybe?
Oh, are there others? Yes, and they had been waiting patiently to be admitted at seven. Every seat set out for the purpose was taken, that I could see. Blinking in delighted astonishment, I bade them welcome and thought, ‘OK girl, do your thing…’ so I read a few excerpts, and then we had a most – most – interesting and wide ranging discussion.
One of the most useful questions, was, ‘So, what should I do, if someone falls over and I want to help them?’ I answered something like, ‘If you would like to help, do so from your heart…and if you are rebuffed, (which you might be, remembering how embarrassed and sore I used to feel when I fell) don’t take it personally.’
This morning, I realise, it is easier than that. If someone falls over, don’t ask, ‘Are you all right?’ (Which I have done too….it trips off the tongue with almost no thought.) Instead, ask, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Then see what happens.
Thank you so much to Venue 40, the Quaker Meeting House, for making our evening such a success. Without the support, faith and friendship of our Quaker community, I would still be sitting in the armchair under the window, wondering what to do with my life.
I have a date at the Edinburgh Fringe and I would be delighted if you could join me.
Scottish writer Fran Macilvey
Next week, I am going to be appearing at the Quaker Meeting House, (Venue 40) which you can find tucked away high about the city at 7 Victoria Terrace, Edinburgh, in the heart of Festival Fringe Country.
On Thursday 27th August from 7 – 8 pm, I will be reading excerpts from my book, Trapped, and then enjoying a question and answer session. You can ask me anything!
Here is the link to my show on the Festival Fringe Website where you can find out more and buy tickets. You can also call the Quaker Meeting House (Venue 40) ticket booking line on (0131) 220 6109.
I am really looking forward to an enjoyable evening among friends. If you cannot be there, I know that when we are meant to meet, we shall.
I’ve just come back from the most wonderful holiday time, spent with my family. We went up North to be with my sister and her husband and son, and while we were there, our brother and his three kids came too. We have a rather extended family, and we are now living in different places, different continents, even, so to meet up is a rare and truly wonderful treat.
The three kids are like their dad: thoughtful, clever and so quick. They made me smile and laugh with their antics and their way of seeing the world. I like kids because they show me thing I have generally forgotten about. In the business of writing, playfulness is often overlooked, yet it sheds light on what truly matters: joy, peace and sharing love. I truly love my brother too, and am grateful to be reminded just how much his joy means to me. In some ways he has had a tough life, and I was so pleased to see him smiling and happy.
While I’ve been away Susan Finlay has kindly published my short article, ‘Writing is a Funny Business’ on her blog. I hope you will have a read of it, and some of the other articles in the series. Thank you, Susan, for your thoughtful support, over many years. It means a lot to me.
Tomorrow, on 5th March, which is designated as World Book Day 2015, Capability Scotland are launching their newest fundraising event, ‘The Great Scottish Book Off’, which will then run through the rest of March.
Paul Delaroche, Portrait of Son Joseph Carle
Family, friends, colleagues and neighbours are invited to get together and swap pre-read books. If there is a modest charge for admission, or a collection, the idea is to pass these funds to Capability, to further their work and projects in Scotland.
I am delighted that tomorrow morning, at 8.30, I am making a guest appearance on Radio Scotland, live from their Edinburgh Studio, to help publicise Capability’s campaign. I look forward to a friendly and candid interview. Later in the evening, at 18.30 – 19.30 I shall be giving a short talk and a reading from ‘Trapped’, as well as answering questions. If you can, please do come along to Blackwells, South Bridge, Edinburgh. It is going to be a great event.
My sincerest thanks to Capability for inviting me to be part of their event, and to Blackwells Bookstore, Edinburgh, for being so generous and accommodating.
February 25, 2016
Writerly ambitions
Fran Macilvey 'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', Fran Macilvey, Path To Publication, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 0 Comments
Before you agree with the voices of reason and common sense and sadly pack away your writerly ambitions, consider why you enjoy writing. How does this particular form of creative expression make you feel? Happy, energised and worthwhile? If so, perhaps we should be taking these feelings seriously and pick up a pen, switch on the computer…start now. Anything will do, you know. Just start with a monologue, a picture of a flower, the exploration of your dream or a letter to God. Start.
If we have something that pesters our dreams or drives us, secretly we will probably know all about it. There will indeed be times when writing is definitely the most worthwhile thing we can do, just now. It certainly feels a million times better than frustration and regret, wondering what we might have achieved if only we had had the courage to take that first step. It is never too late to begin, but there are times when it is simply easier to take the hint: Think how much energy it takes, to keep shoving our passions aside.
We don’t have to write our magnum opus all at once. We can come back to it, take it on little excursions as our next pet project. The best way to give your ideas room to breathe is to start small, and do at least a little writing every day. Decide to write for at least half an hour a day – about anything! – and soon, our doodles stretch themselves into something more substantial. Sketch out a few ideas, start with a few headings….be creative.
Call yourself a writer. Start to see yourself as one, and put that down on your passport application. Insert ‘writer’ as your occupation on the census, or on that application for a loan. Introduce yourself at parties and functions with, “I’m a writer” and you will start to feel a shift that makes it true. No-one is going to laugh in your face or say, “What, you? A writer?? I remember when you were just making it out of college. Your only ambition then was to get laid!” When you utter the words, “I am a writer” people will nod, look interested and ask you what you write about. Then, you can have an interesting conversation and maybe learn something that you will find useful. Saying, “I’m a writer” feels an awful lot better than, “I’m just a housewife” or “I’m unemployed”, don’t you think? (With apologies to all home makers, home economists and people looking for work.)
To be continued.
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