Tempus Fugit

I thought I'd missed posting for three sessions; at last I'm at the computer and I find it's four. I think this is what happens when you try to combine some sort of regular writing with three very small children, a fierce bout of illness (first me, now doing the rounds) and essential relationship maintenance. When I sit down, I write. The fact that I've written nothing for a month shows that I haven't sat down - and even now, instead of rhapsodizing about Andrew Motion or the work of Monica Ali, Maggie O'Farrell, Conn Iggulden and Ali Smith (all workshops that have taken place in the meantime), or raging against the streptoccus A bacteria that kept me home for Louise's character workshop, I'm busy writing about how I'm not writing.

Andrew Motion came on the 25th February. He's looking forward to not being Poet Laureate any more, and says that his abiding fear is that Prince William will get married before the laureate laurels are passed to someone else (Benjamin Zephaniah, please, just in case the powers that be are reading this.) Andrew Motion is, as Louise said, 'an annoyingly talented all round literary type person,' and I know that some people were blown away by him. But I wasn't. I have a deep suspicion of found poetry - I veer away from listmaking as literature - I don't agree with the statement that our job as writers is to 'back off from interpreting objects and let them speak for themselves.' But disagreeing with Andrew Motion about writing would have been like arguing with the Godfather about family etiquette. I don't for a minute think he'd have left a horse's head in my bed, but I'm not so sure about Louise and the other students.

On the Saturday workshop, Louise sent us into the streets to stalk people and get some 'authentic hardcore physical detail.' I'm not good at stalking. I was spotted, pinned down and fed by my prey. 'Well, dear,' she said, after an hour spent describing humanist wedding ceremonies and rescuing her fabulous rope of magenta beads from her soupbowl at five minute intervals, she said, 'I must be going. I hope you find someone to write about.'

I can only hope I'm better at writing than at writing courses.