The first workshops

This week, we learned that Louise Doughty can 'fix you up with as many policemen as you want, love,' and that she was not alone in being chatted up at the In Bed With... launch party with the line, 'What's a nice girl like you doing in an anthology like this?' 

In an effort to refrain from connecting the two, I'll recite the Louise Doughty Guide to Making the Most of Peer Review Workshops. 

• 90% of your feedback will be useless; 10% will be invaluable.
• Only you can tell which 10% will be useful to your work.
• Resist the temptation to defend yourself. 
• Novelists need rhinoceros hides because rejection doesn't get any easier.

Louise also mentioned Malcolm Bradbury's hatred of the excuse, But it really was like that; what life is really like is insufficient reason for doing it that way in art. This reminded me of a session on a different course. We were giving feedback about work with a promising premise that just didn't keep the reader's attention. The writer sat looking surprisingly smug and making no notes while we all sweated blood to try and help birth the story. Eventually someone asked why he was looking so pleased. 'Well,' he said, 'it's about a boring character, and you're telling me I've succeeded in getting that across.'

The first two writers on this course couldn't have been more receptive. The first, whom I'll call Alan Warner because his quirky, evocative and original piece put me in mind of Morvern Callar, was Louise's perfect sponge. He accepted every comment, only pausing to clarify points, and asked one question which gave rise to some excellent advice from Louise regarding plotting. Louise said that, whilst detailed plotting in advance works for some writers, she doesn't write consecutively herself. This frees her to write the scenes that feel real to her at any given moment; she isn't trapped or blocked by feeling forced to write a scene she's not ready for. The disadvantages seem confined to having to cut excellent work, and unwittingly submitting manuscripts with 'Big argument here' written in capitals half way down a page.

The second writer, whom I'll call Raymond Chandler, gave us a cinematographic, film noir picture of a rainy London night and a high-ranking policeman with whom at least three of the group fell in love. Raymond was praised for the lovely rhythms to the sentences, and for the evocation of place and atmosphere. At one point, Louise asked of a character, 'Is she blonde because she's blonde, or because she's drunk and has a slipping bra strap?' and advised, 'Try for something concrete, particular and different.'

AW and RC took away copies of their manuscripts annotated by every member of the group and both say they've found our comments helpful.

Or at least, 10% of them.

And the film versions will be made by David Lynch and the Coen brothers respectively.