Writers’ Reflections on Writing Novels for Young People

I’m currently marking the Writer’s Reflection that my students on this course gave in three days ago. All of our creative writing modules in the second and third year require students to write a Reflection. They tell how their journeys as writers are going, what they have learnt in the module and how what they are learning is helping them to shape their futures. We discourage a mere regurgitation of our own lectures and praise for the tutors will not get them higher marks. The reflections must be well written and contain all the critical rigour that would be expected in an academic essay.

All of the ones I have read so far are honest and many also show a really deep level of commitment. And there are surprises.

I guess in this module I’ve been fairly strict about the workshop element of the seminars. Every student is expected to bring work along every week. They work initially in groups and then the whole group looks at a few selected pieces together. We rotate so everyone has a turn. Attendance has been good on the whole and every week there has been plenty to share though not everyone has attended every week and not everyone who has attended has brought work every time. Many students have claimed this part of the seminar to be extremely useful and many also say they have overcome their fear of having other people read their work. It is good for this to happen in the second year: Final Portfolio in our third year is all about workshopping and they get more out of it if they’re used to it from the first day of Semester 1.

Many students also mention that they’re pleased to find that they can plan a whole novel. They’ve often not finished pieces of work before. Now that they’ve looked carefully at story structure and plotting, they feel that they can look ahead. Many of them are planning to finish their novels later.

Learning how to condense a novel into a synopsis is also extremely useful. When I mark the first assignment, which is the 500 word synopsis, I’m looking for a good story shape and a synopsis that makes this clear as well as showing up what the characters are like. I give them some sound instruction on this, show them one of my own that I know worked extremely well and get them to read Nicola Morgan’s excellent book on the topic.

Some students also report that they are pleased to be informed of how the industry works. Those who intend to become writers need to know this. Certainly, I always make a point about mentioning this.

And virtually all of them have mentioned the value of continued reading. Good.  

Most of the writing itself on this task has been good or very good. Recently I’ve also been marking a first year Writer’s Response exercise – a slightly different task but also critical. There is a lot of talent in our first year, but some of this critical writing is a little raw. The second year writing is much more polished; they are more used to academic writing and many of them have taken the University’s renowned Wordscope course. Naturally, that is exactly how it should be. I would be worried if second years had not progressed beyond what first years can do.                 

                         

The point of universities and how that works for creative writing

If you want to follow a curriculum, you go to school or an FE college. When you get a degree at a university, you’re getting a slice of the raw knowledge straight from the researcher’s mouth. It’s true that several researchers in the same disciplines will be coming to the same conclusions at the same time, and yes, they read each other’s books and attend the same conferences, but all researchers have a unique pool of interests and expert knowledge that they pass on directly to their students.

They’re even expected at times question the status quo. They’re allowed to investigate the mating habits of a frog that lives only on small island off the East African coast, though they won’t get the mega funding for that that an industrial partner might offer for an alternative to fossil fuel.

In creative writing also, the research feeds into to what we teach. Lecturers in creative writing become skilled in that critically reflective process described in my previous blog post Whycreative writing at university? They reflect on their own work, on the work of the students they teach and on the work of the published writers they read. They are permitted to identify rigour that produces something that has merit but may not have a commercial life. Yet they also recognise the commercial industry for what it is and can work with it and around it.

It’s no accident that the University of Salford, where I currently work, hosted a conference about the small press recently. The small press also is able to operate beyond the constraints of the more commercial industry.  It tends to be less worried about financial success, has fewer overheads to cover, is more forgiving towards writers who don’t sell well and is more open to innovation and experimentation than the Big Six.

The university, then here, just as in other contexts, understands and describes what is and tries to find out what may be. It’s pushing a boundary or two, taking knowledge to a higher level, experimenting and reporting back. Students in creative writing can be involved in that process from the beginning.                 

        

Why creative writing at university?

Why not just go and hide in the hills in a cosy cottage and pour your soul into your work? Why not painstakingly learn the craft in the evenings, at weekends and even on holiday whilst you hold down the day job. Those serious about it succeed in the end if they persist. It’s a big if, of course. The serious writer had to learn to cope with rejection, to keep going when the ideas run thin and to keep faith when the writing seems bad. It’s not easy. Those who persist get there in the end. The writers who have taken this route are by no means inferior to – nor indeed superior to those who choose to learn within the academy.   

Our undergraduates come to us largely unskilled. They mainly have good A-levels, including something in English, sometimes  English Language but more often English Literature, some mature students and a very few young ones will have a portfolio of writing and perhaps have completed an access course and most students will not have done any creative writing since infant school. Masters students tend to have either a BA in Creative Writing or portfolio of work, including some that is published.

I have to admit to seeing a remarkable growth in our students in their time with us. Even though they spend as much time as any student in coffee and other bars they are probably still quite immersed in the writer’s world. They have to read and write before each class. We give them plenty of food for thought in the seminars. We offer them many suggestions about which books they might read on the subject. Generally these books are much more than “How To” manuals. They are much deeper.

We teach our students to reflect critically about their work. That is probably the crucial point. The same rigour that must be used in literary criticism has to be applied to how they look at their own work. Yes, they must have some regard for craft. But they must also begin to become aware of their own creative process and their own strengths and weaknesses. We encourage a cycle of action research – experiment, evaluate, adjust, experiment again. We teach our students to be robust, unafraid of criticism and gracious about praise. They also learn how to identify what makes their text work or not. Is it perhaps the rigour involved in all of this that puts them on such a steep learning curve?

Whatever it that we’re doing right – and we’re still not sure - the transformation that happens between level 4 Semester 1 and level 6 Semester 2 is immensely satisfying. Perhaps they already have that commitment that makes them capable of coping with the big if.                              

       

The Gym Analogy and Student Fees in HE

Students are already paying huge fees and collecting debt. It’s going to get worse next year as fees rise to a level that may actually enable them to cover costs. Yet no one should expect to get a good degree unless they put in the work. This is where the gym analogy is useful. You can’t expect to get fit just by paying your membership fee. You have to put the hours in and stretch yourself as well.

However, this does mean that the students have a right to expect certain things:

A comfortable and inspiring environment

Good facilities to aid their study – library, internet, computers etc.

Expertise from their lecturers

Regular feedback on their work

Stimulating debate with their peers

I gave a lecture last week to our first year students on one of their core modules. It was better attended than many but still not as well attended as I would have liked. I was giving a Power Point presentation. This slide show was almost like notes to myself. But it also saved the students having to take in page numbers, names and dates by ear. The projector did start up fine then suddenly stopped working. They had to take the lecture in via their ears after all. I will emphasize at this point that this is unusual. This has never happened to me before.

Is this the time to remember that “lecture” actually means reading? Dusty old professors used to mumble out their lecture notes when I was an undergraduate. But they were so learned and clever we didn’t mind.

You may wonder why I didn’t print out a copy of the slide presentation for my students. It’s probably because over the last few years, I’ve printed them out every time and had to throw away a not inconsiderable amount of paper at the end of the semester. All those copies for all those students who did not attend.  The Power Point presentation is on Blackboard, our VLE anyway. As are lecture notes.

So, if the PowerPoint presentation and the lecture notes are on Blackboard, what is the point of coming to the lecture? We know that Life happens to our students and with the best will in the world they can’t attend every week. That is why we have not yet gone the route of demanding full attendance. Some students need the extra support of seeing the material in writing.

Well, maybe I’ll tell a joke.

It’s perhaps a little more obvious why students would benefit from seminar attendance. A discussion is part of it and in my discipline they more often than not become creative writing workshops.

However, we’re moving towards being firmer on attendance. The other side of this is that we have to make it worth students’ while to attend. I personally do not mumble from notes like the dusty old professors. I like to speak to my audience, maintain eye-contact and react to how they’re understanding, going into more detail on some points and speeding through others that the students seem to understand readily. Plus students can ask questions as they think of them or at the end of the lecture. It’s harder to do that when reading from Blackboard. But I believe I’m just as much an expert as the old profs were.

Plus there is something about making notes. I still do it when I go to talks. You take in the information with your eyes and ears. You process it in your brain and you write down with your hand what you have understood.  It’s old-fashioned but it is an act of confirmation. I noticed one student writing avidly the other day, hanging on my every word. Good on him – even though it’s all there on Blackboard.    

Going back to the gym analogy: the gym has been set up with the best of equipment to date that the fees can buy. The most valuable resource is the expertise of the staff who work there. I quite honestly think that my colleagues and I couldn’t work harder though we might be able to work smarter and we’re open to that and willing to learn. Now, if the clients want to get fit they must put in the hours.                 

              

Workshop worries… melting

The workshop carries on – see my last blog – and worries persist. I know that many students express regret at not having participated earlier when they eventually get it in their final year. I do therefore insist and thereby actually make it a little uncomfortable for them.

I have these concerns:

Students are not bringing work and there is not enough to share.

If they don’t bring work, the only feedback they will get will be after the assignment and then it’s too late.

They’re paying high fees – they deserve the service.

…. But if I “take work in to mark” … I’d be looking at between 60 and 75 pieces a week … about 30 – 35 hours of work – excuse me that’s a working work and the other work doesn’t go away.

Of course, there a reasons why the work isn’t being brought along:

The students aren’t ready to share yet.

Many are inexperienced writers.

With many I’m working on autobiography and that can be very personal and evoke some painful memories.

Some writers just don’t – and that is fine.

No matter how much we know the remarks about our work aren’t personal, it can still be hard to take – I was at a critique group today and I still squirmed when it was my turn to receive feedback.  For goodness’ sake, I give it out all the time and I’m quite widely published. And the piece we were discussing has already been accepted for publication. But you still want to disappear as people start talking about your work.  

My students and I have reached an understanding, I think.

Students may bring work along on a memory stick or email it to me.  The reward is they get intensive feedback. The cost is that they have to share their work with everyone in class. That has an immense value: we often learn more by looking at others’ work. We spot what we can’t see in our won.  But once having seen it in the work of another we can look back at our own more objectively.    

Students may ask me to look at work when they are working away in class or during the break.

I’m happy to take a little away with me at the end of each session. I’ll try to be fair if there isn’t enough time to look at everyone’s every week.  

Personally, I’m a great believer in critique groups, but also that in the end, especially when one has heard conflicting bits of advice, the writer has to make their own mind up.  

One of the most useful pieces of feedback is in fact for the reader to tell the writer what they have understood about the text they have read. And if you’re finding it difficult to find what to say, then just give a response: tell the writer what you’ve understood of their work.

I’ve discussed this in depth with my students this week. And at the end of Friday’s afternoon class, three people asked me to look through their work. One gave in something to be looked at for next week.

High fives?       

All about workshop rules

I’m now just about to begin the third teaching week in Semester 2, having recently returned from sabbatical. Week 2 has been all about applying the workshop rules negotiated with each group individually in the first week of the semester.  

Three very similar patterns emerged. In undergraduate classes, except Final Portfolio, our third year class, students just bring work on the day. In Final Portfolio and our Masters classes they email work to each other and to their tutors in advance. So:

·         Students bring work on the day and work in groups with their peers, with the tutor pulling together towards the end of the session what is good practice and what are common faults

·         Students bring work on the day and we share it as a whole group.

·         Students email each other and their tutors their work and we share as a whole group

Generally speaking, each undergrad paper receives five to ten minutes of our attention with Masters students receiving twenty minutes.  

Some other important rules apply to all or some of the groups:

·         The comments are always about the work, never about the person.

·         Students should refrain from defending their work if possible.

·         Students can choose not to share but should bear in mind that this deprives themselves and their classmates of a valuable opportunity.

·         We should not merely “like” or dislike”: we should avoid those words if we can and if we absolutely must use them, we should say why.   

We are forced these days to have bigger classes and so we can no longer enjoy the luxury we used to have looking at just three pieces of work in a session and that meaning that every student could present their work every other week. We now have to do things differently.  

Most teachers of creative writing in higher education are now having to alter their practice. The traditional workshop anyway was in need of some overhauling. In the past there has sometimes been an emphasis on what is wrong with a piece and reluctance to identify what an individual writer is doing well. Often there has been some concern that a text needs to be literary rather than popular, though I’m not convinced |I can properly distinguish between those two concepts and I suspect that some people who think they can actually can’t. A problem now is that students often fail to realise that they can learn as much if not more from looking at other people’s work than from having the attention on their own. A few years of critiquing has made me realise that I can often see in others’ work good points and weaknesses that I cannot identify on my own.  Having seen these qualities in others’ work and I can look back at my own and identify more easily that which I had not noticed before.

There have been some frustrations in this second week:

·         Students have not brought work

·         Too many have not wanted to share

·         Students have emailed work and then not turned up in class.

This has been particularly frustrating when I have painstakingly tried to represent in writing the rules I believe we agreed and given the option that they could correct me if I was wrong. Silence, mainly. Yet one is left feeling that there is some dissatisfaction  - why else would they have not followed their own rules?

And yet. We follow the rules anyway. We plough into the texts that we do have the way we said we would. And suddenly we notice a lot that is right, some things that could be done better and a heap of material that we “like” and can justify liking. Hope and optimism grow.

Of course it can be subjective. One in the group may love, and can justify doing so, something that another hates. But if three or more people are saying the same thing, they may have a point. We all make our helpful suggestions, but really we’ve only had a little time to think about it compared with how long the text’s writer has lived with those words and ideas. Authors are after all authors and have the authority to make decisions. They go back to their garret, their writing shed or their kitchen table, consider the advice given and come to their own conclusions.

And possibly those of us who have not had our words scrutinized this week have learnt a good deal that we can apply to our own texts.                          

Academic Privilege

One of the advantages of being a university lecturer has got to be the sabbatical. Another is that most work is self-directed and that one is trusted to get on alone. The university expects the lecturer to research and the outcome of that informs the teaching. In Higher Education, unlike in compulsory and Further Education, the students no longer follow an established  curriculum. Certainly, their grounding in the basics will be firmed up – my daughter who has a BA in geography was required to learn rote fashion all the countries of the world and their capitals – quite right too - but students should also be exposed to the latest ideas and the newest thinking. That comes from their lecturers’ research.               

Technically, my sabbatical finished yesterday. The project will carry on, however. On my research days – we are supposed to take one a week – I’ll continue. My two hours writing a day will also be focussed on the creative part of my project for the next few weeks.  

I’m employed as a creative writer. There is not that much difference between a regular writer and one works as a writing academic. All writers are reflective. Possibly academic creative writers are critically reflective. Plus I’m expected know my field and be able to comment in an academic style and with academic rigour.

For the last five months I’ve spent over six hours a day on weekdays on my project and a few hours at the weekend. I’ve finished a 100,000 word novel, though I’m still editing and I had already completed about 25,000 words.  I’ve kept another blog Potatoes in Spring that is critically reflective of my creative process but that also discusses what I’ve found out in my research. There are also some reviews of primary and secondary resources. I’ve written content for a web site that will go live once I have a publisher for the novel. I’ve conducted a heap of standard writerly research and some other research that might resemble historical or sociological research. I’ve created content for a web site and have prepared material for several talks. So, I’ve not been idle.

But I do feel privileged and respected. My employer considers this work important enough to relieve me of all other duties and pay my normal salary for five months. Even if Potatoesin Spring never gets published - and it’s had one offer already - it’s probably the most lucrative piece of writing I’ve done. Importantly, also, because I’ve been able to concentrate on one project my writing has been more focussed and I’ve consolidated ideas for the next three or four projects.