Monday: Arrive at 9am. The entire day is given over to meeting writers and offering advice. The first person to arrive is an American gentlemen in England and the last person of the day is a black woman from Hackney who is writing a thriller.

In the previous literature brochure I gave  my email address and encouraged anyone who wanted advice to drop me a line.  The next two days are packed with these meetings. The discussions are stimulating and vibrant. You can tell a lot by a person by one question – why do you write?

Why are people here though? Most of the time it’s all about blocks. Writers write alone so they are vulnerable to all the viruses that aloneness brings, whether that is delusions of grandeur or a general belief in unworthyness. Both of these states are aggressors to productivity and creativity. My advice is instinctive and I expect another writer to have a totally different sense of advice.  But a central tenant of mine concerning a writers writing begins  I can not help you in your writing. Your writing is your writing and only you can know.  

It is the same with a workshop. My job is to give permission to the attendees to become  conduits for their creativity. In my belief we learn not to be creative in our everyday lives – it is learned behaviour. We learn to cling to systems. All I do in a workshop is help open the floodgates.    I may ask questions of the attendees work  but at the end of the day the decision to write in a particular way or voice is the writers.  And there before my eyes I see the attendee grasp the nature of their creative self. Think this is airy fairy and light? No. Nothing gives results like hard work.   It’s been a good day.

If it is results that you are looking for, there are hardly any of my workshops that don’t achieve high end results. But they are not my concern, the process is everything. So how can I get results without telling people what to write or how to write.  You just have to be there or read the work that comes out.