Crafting Lines, my programme of writing workshops, is bedding in and beginning to develop. It’s time to reflect on where it’s at and where it might go.
It began as a series of three workshops in November. I wanted to test the water, so I went in small. I wanted to do something local, because why not? I wanted to do something as accessible as possible, so I kept the remit as broad as I could: I’m here to support any writer at any stage in their development doing any kind of creative writing as best I can. And I kept the cost as low as I could. I wanted to do something that would be enjoyable and encouraging and genuinely helpful – something that I would like to attend if I weren’t running it.
I have worked with craftswoman Wendy Reed before on creative projects so it made sense to approach her about using her lovely shop/workshop, right in the heart of town. She runs various kinds of crafting workshops so we hoped there might be a crossover of clientele and some word-of-mouth sharing.
And that’s what happened. The three workshops went really well; so well that the people who came wanted to continue, so I planned a regular rhythm of workshops which I hope will become sustainable in the longer term and will nurture a group of writers in whatever way they need. I’ve added regular online sessions into the mix to increase accessibility, and now the pattern is one in-person and one online workshop every four weeks.
The workshops offer a mix of writing prompts and exercises, supportive critique and exploring relevant writing by others. Every workshop has its own theme, which may be an element of writing (character, plot, for example) or a motif (recently we’ve looked at myth and hermit crab fiction.) So each session stands alone, but if you come regularly there is some development, and I respond to requests for themes too. There is also time in each workshop for people to reflect on their writing life, their writing goals and to make plans.
From an early age I have been famous for making big plans. As a child, my plans to build a house for my Sindy doll, to learn to knit, to write an entire series of novels based on a village in my head, were begun with enthusiasm – but not finished. I then became famous for not being a finisher-completer. And then I learned to dream better, which is why this project started small and has grown organically. I’m very pleased about that.
But I still get carried away. At this week’s session one exercise was to put the words of book titles we liked into Bill’s sleeping bag (you’ll have to come along to find out what Bill’s sleeping bag is), threw aa die and pulled out words at random to make a title for some writing. I had put in one of my favourite titles, Bettany Hughes’ magnificent Helen of Troy: Goddess, Princess, Whore (which is also a brilliant book) and, serves me right, threw a 1 and pulled out of.
Not so promising, you’d think. But my brain ran off and pitched a sprawling piece of nonfiction entitled Of: A History of Belonging. To write such a book would be a major task, requiring years of research – and now I really want to do it! I’m having to tell myself hourly that this idea has a place in the queue of big projects I want to do, and it’s at the back. I suppose I’ll never be able to stop having grand plans. However I’m glad Crafting Lines hasn’t been one. It is developing – in May there will be a special online 1-1 night for more concentrated feedback and support for those who want it, for example – but my goal is not for world-workshop-domination – it’s simply for it to be valuable to those who use it, and to be sustainable.
There is only one problem: the numbers are just a little bit too small for sustainability. I advertise mainly on social media, and put posters in local libraries, and it does reach people but I’m sure I could be smarter about it if I knew how. If anyone has bright ideas or info, don’t be shy, let me know! And if you want to give our little community a try, email me to book on and see what happens, there really no strings attached and you can start as small as you like.