Passing it on...the importance of teaching and mentoring

Who was it said, 'Those who can't do, teach'? I don't agree with it, as a general statement, embracing all. Applied to writing, I reckon some can do it rather well and also teach. It is certainly one way in which writers can actually earn something, especially when you turn to poetry, which isn't exactly an earner for most of us. Some no doubt do one or both better than others - but all the writers I know who take time out to share what they do do it so well. Most of them, because they care. It is nice to pass things on.

Me, I care, sure - but I learned a lot from those who taught (or tried to teach) me. It was at times an object lesson in how not to teach - therefore wonderful grounding for later, when I would be passing on to the next generation whatever snips of wisdom I'd amassed along the way.

Mentoring too.

I have just finished a year-long mentorship with a novelist, through New Writing South. On her second novel, she wanted to be supported while she wrote a fair draft of her second.
I am into mentoring another writer already - a partnership between NWS and Creative Futures, the writer is someone who might not otherwise take these things up, for her own reasons. http://www.creativefuture.org.uk
And as good things come in threes, I am mentoring the brilliant Divya Ghelani through the equally brilliant Word Factory. Her novel Runaway made the longlist of the inaugural Deborah Rogers Foundation Prize. (Nowt to do with me!)

Mentoring is an interesting beast. It isn't teaching as such, in most cases. It is support, being a sounding board, an interested colleague. More of a guidance role. And that's fine.

Many years back, I spent a year abroad at a school, and it put me off teaching. That is sad - because actually, I think I'd have loved it - so long (and it is a big so long) as I loved what I was sharing,  encouraging others to try, experiment, see if they loved it too.  And that's what I see teaching as, now.
Encouraging. Opening people's eye to what writing can be.

I ran a workshop a few weeks ago, on the short story. I started with one of my favourites - The Raft, by Peter Orner. Here it is in its entirety, all 1200 wds of it - in the archive of The Atlantic: http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2000/04/the-raft/378128/
           It never fails to give me enormous pleasure to see participants' faces when you unpack that story - and every time I do, I see new things myself, as they tease apart the threads, identify the craft elements.

My goal at a workshop is not to tell people how to do things, then pack up and go home. It is to show them the possibilities, open their eyes, fizz them up, strengthen their confidence in their abilities - and I hope they leave fired up with enthusiasm, full of ideas, and knowing that they CAN do this thing.

Later this year - workshops at Wordthing Festival, at Gladfest - and one or two others - then that will do. It does take a different bit of the brain to do this, and it takes a while to get back into creating mode, lovely and important as it is, for this writer. Next year, plans afoot already for fiction workshops in Venice, in Ireland and again, Gladstone's Library. Can't wait!

A week learning Welsh at Gladstone's Library

This is the text of my first blog post for Gladstone's Library. 

A week learning Welsh

Not content with a whole month in this lovely place, I decided to have a week here busily engaged in learning Welsh, before my residency officially began. Thus it was that the intrepid Mr Gebbie and I joined eight other would-be Welsh speakers on Monday 25th August for a week packed to busting with lessons, games and exercises.  Our tutor was to be Julie Brake, Senior Lecturer in Welsh at Glyndwr University. The details of the course can be found here: http://www.gladstoneslibrary.org/events/welsh-in-a-week.html

A varied bunch we were too.  At one end of the spectrum were those who knew some Welsh, perhaps those who had spoken Welsh as children, and at the other end, those who had had no exposure to the language at all. Ages ranged from (I’m guessing here...) mid- thirties to mid-eighties. 

I fitted somewhere in the middle on most counts. I have Welsh parents and grandparents, and my elders would often drop into Welsh when I was around - I can’t think why. I was at school in Dolgellau for five years from 13 to 18 - formative years - and every Tuesday, morning assembly was conducted in Welsh. We sang Welsh hymns and recited prayers in Welsh. Trouble was, those who didn’t understand Welsh were never told what the words meant... what a missed trick.  The intrepid Mr Gebbie also has Welsh grandparents. It’s our shared heritage.

Julie Brake is simply a gem of a teacher - focussed, engaging and not unwilling to make us work hard! And all with more than a sprinkling of humour. We were incredibly lucky. This was a very practical experience. Our journey focussed on spoken Welsh, and the grammar behind it for those who wanted to know. We worked together in the tutorials for eight and a half-hours per day, between 9.30 am and 9.00 at night, except for Thursday, when we had a much-needed afternoon off.  Julie took us all from 0 to 60 (metaphorically speaking)  in those five and a half days - we who struggled to say our names on  day one (Vanessa ydw i) were soon happily exploring the mysteries of soft and nasal mutation.  We who knew very little if anything were soon tackling a group translation of the history of St David (Dewi Sant).  We who had struggled to say ‘It’s sunny today’ (Mae hi’n heulog heddiw) on day one soon found ourselves telling each other simple stories, using not just the present tense but past and future. On Day six we introduced ourselves as different characters with amazingly inventive backgrounds. And finally, we were brave enough to ask for the words of both Sospan Fach and the other more beautiful national anthem of Wales, and sing! 

Mr Gebbie and I had such a good week. It was worth every penny, and more. Excellent company, unforgettable surroundings, and everyone had a strong sense of achievement at the end. 

It was a real boon to be here, to find my feet in the place I will be living for the next month. I waved goodbye to Mr Gebbie last Sunday, on his way to Chester railway station and the train back to Sussex, and after he’d gone I padded round Gladstone’s Library feeling excited, not a little daunted, and oddly, rather proprietorial. I wonder what ‘proprietorial’  is, in Welsh?

Next year, I hear they are doing Hebrew...

(I hope the Welsh is correct. If not, blame my retention skills...)