Authors Electric

A few days ago, the first meeting of my writers’ group of the new year took place here. Coffee and biscuits were served, tulips were given as a token of the approaching Spring. As ever, it was a great morning of shared writing – a fledgling 6th novel; the second of a trilogy set in Hong Kong in the time of Raffles; the beginnings of a murder mystery set in the New Forest, a sample of book 3 of a set of YA novels ; a poem.   As I saw the last guest away home, we reflected on the fact that we had been meeting now for over 30 years. She and I are now the only two original members left; we lost two to death and two moved away to pursue other ways of writing. Of late, others who bring so much to the group have joined us; one teaches creative writing in a secondary school, two are alumni of an associate member who now   runs excellent courses in writing, one was discovered via SCBWI.   They are all such lively and interesting people who can both give and take constructive cri...

Writing with other writers It’s a story I’ve told so many times of four women meeting at a writing workshop twenty five years ago and realising that they were better together than waiting on the words of their tutor.   Renegades we were, convinced of our worth; a good and unusual feeling for women.   The honest sharing, listening and encouragement has continued to this day.   Two of those women, Henrietta Branford and Vera Forster, are sadly no longer alive, but their spirits are always with us.   Other writers have joined us, Sandra Horn and me.   Many short stories, poems and novels later, this is what keeps me believing I am a writer.   Recently I’ve begun to meet a younger friend who, having completed an OU creative writing course some years ago, finds that the pressure of work keeps him from putting pen to paper.   Once a month we meet to talk about what we want to write, ways to get round the lack of time, keeping the ideas floating...