A massive thank you to all the writers who came to the ‘Getting Published’ workshop on Saturday 19 May. It was good to meet you and hear about your work; I was more than impressed by your enthusiasm and dedication. Thank you also for working so hard – we covered a lot of ground in a short period of time. I hope you found some of the exercises and discussions useful, that you enjoyed yourselves – and that you’ve made some new friends. Take a look at some of the pictures!
If any of you decide to develop the restaurant scene, let me know – we’d love to showcase your work on the blog. Some cracking characters were staring to emerge and I’d like to know more about them!
Keep checking the website for more writing tips and details of forthcoming courses and workshops.
For those of you who had the patience (!) or courage (!) to tackle the Aaaagh worksheet, here’s the original version.
It began on a Friday afternoon, just after four o’clock. A grey, soul-draining afternoon when the sun never quite broke through. A day when there is no reason to look forward or to look back; just a day that would sink insipidly into dusk and then into darkness. A day as mercilessly ordinary as all the rest.
Allan started it. He put his head around my office door but left his body outside, leaning at an angle to look in at me. I don’t think Allan has ever knocked and walked straight into a room; that would be too direct, would give the person inside the chance to repel him. Instead he hovers, as if he were just passing by rather than consciously interrupting. No chance, then, for me to practise avoidance, to pick up the phone and pretend to be in the middle of an important conversation. No chance of escape.
‘Busy?’ he asked. I gestured at the scatter of paper covering my desk. ‘If you could spare a couple of minutes before you go home.’ He smiled amiably and retreated, but I can recognise a summons when one is given.
Allan is my boss. His full title is Overseas Student Liaison Officer. ‘I’m OSLO,’ he’s fond of saying, creasing his small round face into a smile as he laughs at his own joke. He looks the mildest of men but I am not deceived; he is a bastard to work for.