Writing Articles

Are you the sort of person who could fall asleep on a washing line? Then an all night writing workshop is probably not for you! The task - to stay up all night and create a masterpiece, or at least a few coherent sentences.

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The place - eighteen floors up, in the presidential suite, at the Radisson hotel in Birmingham. The company - Mil Millington (Love and Other Near Death Experiences) and a few other Birmingham Book Festival goers.

I couldn’t help myself thinking, ‘This is the weirdest experience of my life,’ when, at three am, I was sitting cross legged, on the floor of the living room. Writing. Not that there’s anything unusual about that, it’s just that this living room is eighteen storeys up, and has floor to ceiling windows with a spectacular view of Birmingham. And a) I don’t like heights, and b) I don’t like heights. It’s worth repeating. I get nosebleeds climbing my stairs. Yet, here I was, penning sonnets worthy of Shakespeare - okay, I was writing a twelve-point plot summary, but I could have been writing a sonnet - while, what seemed like miles below me, I watched drunken revelers dicing with death trying to flag down a taxi. By standing in front of one traveling at about forty miles per hour. Which was kind of what I felt like doing, when we were told we had to perform some newly composed work in front of the rest of the group.

Mil devised the writing exercises to keep us mentally stimulated, and the hotel staff kindly brought us coffee every hour or so, to keep us awake. Me and my fellow scribes soon settled down to some serious business - squabbling over the complimentary toiletries. I gave in graciously, after I dropped a pot of orange shampoo on the floor and it shattered. Jonathan Davidson (Book Communications) sternly reminded us that we were there to write, not bounce on the bed. But even he, the organiser of the Birmingham Book Festival, was impressed at the size of the television in the bathroom.

Did I get any work done? Surprisingly, yes. I had been struggling with some plot weaknesses in a novel I am working on, and I think that working in a totally different way has helped me to think my way around them. I had gotten into a rut, and was starting to suffer waves of panic every time I tried to work on the chapters. Having such fun with writing reminded me why I’d started the novel in the first place. Not to make money - oh, but wouldn’t it be nice? - and not for fame and glory, but because I’d had an idea that wouldn‘t leave me alone, and I wanted to see how the story unfolded.

Naturally, I’m not recommending that those with writers’ block should deprive themselves of sleep, but a change in work environment might help to blow the cobwebs off your thinking cap. So, if you always write at your desk, go outside with a pen and paper. Sit in the park. See that dog walker, what’s his story? What on earth is wrong with the scowl-faced businessman walking stiff legged across the grass, has he just trod in something nasty? There are stories everywhere, waiting to be dreamed of and then transcribed by a dreamer.

Changing your writing place can be done by simply moving from your desk to the kitchen table, or going on a walk and using a Dictaphone to record your ideas. It’s probably best not to do this in a crowded city centre. Or maybe you fancy a writing holiday? Look in the back of your writing magazines, or do a search on the Internet. You can get anything from a bed and breakfast in Blackpool to a fortnight at a writers’ retreat in Spain.

Keep an eye out for writing events like book festivals, writing workshops, poetry slams, or readings by authors you admire. Attending literary occasions like these will make you feel more like a real writer, and you never know what contacts you could make, or where ideas will spark into life for you. Above all, write for the pleasure of writing, the joy of seeing the blank space filled up with words, of making your thoughts concrete.

Would I do a sleep deprivation workshop again? Yes, I would. As strange as the experience was, I had lots of fun, got some writing done, and met a few new people. I didn’t get much sleep, but I got some lovely lemon scented bath gel from the presidential suite. Now, if only I’d taken a bigger bag…

© Clare Hill 2006