The other day I found myself in a situation no doubt familiar to lots of tutors of creative writing who, when offering a group of students time to write something creative, was greeted with a chorus of ‘I don’t know what to write’. Rather than viewing this solely as a resistance to doing work or a lack of creativity I see it as a challenge to myself and as an opportunity to challenge them. So, what were their real concerns?

Firstly, the environment within which they were working – a secondary school – can, without making any apologies here, be more intimidating and less conducive to a supportive atmosphere giving genuine constructive feedback.

Secondly, students complained that they wouldn’t know what on earth to write about which, if you have read my very first blog, should not be a concern to anyone with any life experiences to call upon.

Finally, as some murmurs never made it to my ears, it was the difficulty of knowing where to start which made the task a little overwhelming. It is these very concerns along with the advice I gave them which I wish to reflect upon and I will tackle the first of these issues today.

The environment within which students produce writing and indeed share it is a pressing one. Students of literature and / or creative writing at A level or beyond will appreciate that sharing their creations with the rest of their group in order to obtain feedback is a valuable part of the process. The early days of creating the right environment to do this is a delicate process to manage so that nobody feels unable to share their work; this could be heavily influenced if the tutor sets class rules for feedback or sets the class the task of setting the ground rules themselves. Still, some pupils may be shy and may not wish to read their poetic lyrics aloud, so what then? A whole class approach could possibly be broken down into smaller groups or even, if it is the best way to build confidence, separating everyone into pairs which may seem less threatening. Yet another approach could be to set up a space within which students can upload their work and then students – if individual accounts are created – can provide feedback while taking responsibility for their responses. Ultimately, it may take a few weeks of positive feedback from a tutor before someone is willing to accept that they do in fact have talent, so a further step for the initial weeks with a group of new students may be one to one feedback. However, always be aware that the writing produced may be deeply personal so while the individual has drawn upon a real experience to inspire their writing it may be that they are not quite ready to share it with a wider audience just yet.

Creating a space that allows people to write is also of the highest importance; light, heat and writing resources must all be available as must the ability to work in peace for any period. This does not necessarily mean peace and quiet as some writers may find working to music or background noise easier so this also needs to be carefully considered. Although the process of writing and learning to improve one’s writing is a collaborative effort, the act of writing is a particularly individual process so an appreciation that one size does not fit all is required.

If you are a student reading this then I implore you to continue writing and to start, or continue, sharing your work without fear. There are a great many ways that you can improve your writing.

The first of which is to read; read a lot but, most importantly, read a variety of authors and genres. The various skills and techniques that can be found in one author may be different from another, you must also appreciate that to subvert a text or  genre you must first understand it’s ‘rules’ and that will not happen without reading.

Secondly, you must challenge yourself to write in a variety of voices, tenses, narration styles and genres as the only way you will be able to reflect on these skills is by reviewing what you have actually produced. In addition to this, writing in a variety of styles will enable you to put into practice many techniques that you have identified in other authors and will allow some of the greater influences to flow through your own work in your own inimitable way.

Finally, share your work with others even if it only starts with friends and family before including your lecturer and classmates. A word of warning though: you are likely to hear ‘good’ and ‘nice’ quite a lot. Your peers and particularly your lecturer will have considerably more experience in reading and creative writing so will be able to provide much more valuable feedback with which you can revisit your first drafts.

Receiving criticism – no matter how constructive – is a painful experience and the more of your soul that reaches the page the more painful it is to hear that is not a ready-made best seller; however, if you want it to be then you need this feedback. Not everyone will appreciate your style and not every reader will understand the deeper meaning of your text, but if you want to publish in your career then at some stage you will have to declare that last edit as final and send it off for the scrutiny of publishers. You may be surprised that your peers and college or university staff are just as supportive and hungry for you to succeed as you are for them to enjoy that very same success.

Read, write and share. Happy writing!

A blog by Steve Marshall

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‘Heil Hitler,’ he said, which, he presumed, was another way of saying, ‘Well, goodbye for now, have a pleasant afternoon’ (2007, 54).

Wow. That’s a brave opening even for me and yet a nine year-old boy had no trouble at all in uttering this phrase. Why? Well, put simply, he had been brought up to believe that such a phrase and the salute which accompanies it was actually polite. The boy in question is young Bruno from a fantastic novel which I have only just got around to reading John Boyne’s The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas and, at the time of me writing this, the film was showing on Netflix as well. While the film has received praise from all quarters we are of course here to discuss literature… and the book is far better anyway. What did intrigue me about this book were the various techniques used to display childhood innocence, which is the topic of today’s blog.

Having worked with children for a number of years as well as having a child of my own I am forever amazed by the way that they see the world before they are influenced and, just like in this book, it would put many of us to shame. As we have seen from the example already provided, imitation is one way that children try to learn new things and fit in with their peers or seek approval from their guardians. This places a huge responsibility on the person(s) guiding these young minds, but unfortunately this can lead to the transferal of bad habits as well as good habits.

‘Yes, but they’re different aren’t they?’ said Shmuel.
‘No one’s ever given me an armband,’ said Bruno.
‘But I never asked to wear one,’ said Shmuel.
‘All the same,’ said Bruno, ‘I think I’d quite like one. I don’t know which one I’d prefer though, your one of Father’s’ (2007, 127).

If we look at the extract above, Bruno does not actually commit to whether he would prefer the Star of David or a swastika on his armband. The simple reason for this is because the influences upon this decision are equally great. It would be an assumption to guess which one he would choose but it is safe to say that he is probably drawn to both due to the fondness for the two people who wear them. Choosing one would mean risking disappointing the other party.
Before Bruno, or any child, commits to a decision he may decide to ask questions first:

‘Can I ask you something?’ he added after a moment.
‘Yes,’ said Shmuel.
Bruno thought about it. He wanted to phrase the question just right.
‘Why are there so many people on that side of the fence?’ he asked. ‘And what are you all doing there?’ (2007, 115).

There are many other reasons why children ask questions (and don’t stop) but that is to satisfy their quest for knowledge about a particular subject and to enhance their understanding of the world around them. As a reader, we see through Bruno’s eyes as he looks through his bedroom window catching his first glimpse of the concentration camp. An education in history and our own understanding of the world means that we immediately comprehend the environment in which he now inhabits and the one which he observes, but we are in a unique position compared to the young narrator. The world in which he has been brought up in means that he has no concept of segregation and children simply while away the hours playing games together. The fence itself is alien to him as are the striped pyjamas and many other differences he is discovering between himself and Shmuel, highlighted even more so by the fact that they share the same birthday which, to Bruno, means they are almost identical.

One of the reasons for this lack of comprehension is because children are often sheltered from the truth. This is usually done to protect them from the corruption and harsh reality of the world while coupled with a belief that children are incapable of processing the truth; in light of the topic we are discussing it may well be that children may have been able to highlight just how absurd and inhumane the displayed behaviours actually were. Boyne recognises this and plays on this, this is seen in one instance when Bruno decides to keep Shmuel a secret from his family: ‘Bruno was of the opinion that when it came to parents, and especially when it came to sisters, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them’ (2007, 132). 

Boyne also plays with the children’s lack of comprehension in terms of the language that they employ. Both Bruno and Gretel refer to Auschwitz as ‘Out-with’ and the Fuhrer as ‘The Fury’. As young children learn language they often go through a stage of word replacement for anything they can’t quite pronounce but these examples bring remarkable connotations with them; ‘Out-with’ could easily be read as comparable to the Nazi’s attempt at culling those of the Jewish faith (amongst others) while ‘The Fury’ brings to mind words such as ‘rage’ or ‘anger’ rather than the literal translation of ‘leader’.

In addition to making sense of language, children make sense of their surroundings by supposing upon what is going on around them. This is not unique to children and examples can be found in literature of ancient civilisations attempting to seek meaning and reason in the events of nature. In The Epic of Gilgamesh and Homer’s Odyssey there are a number of narratives which explain the world around them as acts of the Gods, the Romans and Pagans also sought to rationale their environment by relating events to acts of deities. There are further examples to be found in modern society and literature as scientists seek to discover, evidence and explain anything which remains a mystery while writers, such as Mary Shelley, play on scientific discovery through their writing, and in Shelley’s case her most famous novel: Frankenstein.  

In attempting to explain away Shmuel’s father’s absence, Bruno says: ‘I imagine the men were taken to work in another town and they have to stay there for a few days until the work is done. And the post isn’t very good here anyway. I expect he’ll turn up one day soon’ (2007, 195). This response between adults would be seen as a mature response to make the other person feel better or, at best, blind optimism, but this example – viewed through Bruno’s eyes  – is a genuine rationalisation of the circumstances presented.

If you are in any doubt as to the differences between an innocent narrative compared to a world-weary response then look no further than the following example. This extract is taken from Martin Amis’ The Zone of Interest and occurs when a solider describes a truck-load of bodies being ferried past a new set of prisoners when, unfortunately, some parts become visible:

‘He said that about half a dozen of them half flopped out over the railboard; he said that it made him imagine a crew of ghosts being sick over a ship’s side. With their arms swinging. Not just any old corpses either. Starveling corpses. Covered in shit, and filth, and rags, and gore, and wounds, and boils. Smashed-up, forty-kilo corpses’ (2015, 37).
It doesn’t leave much to the imagination does it? Yet no-one questions it. Who were those people? Why are they dead? What will happen to them now? Are they dead? Will they go to hospital? The prisoners who witnessed this certainly knew what this scene meant for them which is why panic ensued.

The reason I have brought up this topic is to highlight that innocence is an equally powerful way of highlighting ignorance and horror. The graphic depiction above is most certainly effective but I would like you to consider the stories you are writing once more and consider these questions:

• Are there characters who would inhabit these spaces who would have a completely different view of events than the one your narrator is sharing? 
• If so, what would their understanding of events be and does that add anything to the text? 
• Is it consistent with any of your themes to have an innocent yet unreliable narrator? 

These are all important things to think about, but I would suggest re-writing one scene from a short story or novel that you’ve produced through the eyes of someone slightly removed from the social sphere, level of intelligence or rank of the setting or characters in which it is taking place. Otherwise, simply read The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas and see if that inspires you.  

Don’t forget, we are all trying to make sense of the world around us. Happy writing!

A blog by Steve Marshall

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Further reading:

Amis, M. (2015) The Zone of Interest. London: Vintage.
Boyne, J. (2007) The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas. London: Definitions.
Lodge, D. (1992) The Art of Fiction. London: Penguin Books.
Mullan, J. (2006) How Novels Work. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Sebald, W.G. (2011) Austerlitz. London: Penguin Books.

‘Look at our apples

Russet and dun,

Bob at our cherries,

Bite at our peaches,

Citrons and dates,

Grapes for the asking,

Pears red with basking

Out in the sun,

Plums on their twigs;

Pluck them and suck them,

Pomegranates, figs.’

(Excerpt from Goblin Market, 352-61)

Are you salivating yet? An abundance of fruit just inviting you to have a taste. Last week I gave you food for thought as we considered how, in writing, the act of eating can reflect status or social interactions. I now want us to think about food some more, focusing in particular on some of the figurative associations of eating.

Close read the extract above. What are you first thoughts? To suck, to lick; even saying these word aloud can engage your tongue and ignite your mind. What about the shapes of the fruits themselves, each bearing a resemblance to parts of the body? The goblins who are attempting to entice Laura to taste their goods are like the sirens who lure sailors to their doom.

Paying heed to Rossetti’s religious background, we can also read the poem as a fable of sorts. If we see the fruit which the goblins are trying so hard to sell as ‘forbidden fruit’, the goblins themselves as a snake and Laura as Eve, we are transported into the Garden of Eden. Laura ‘sucked and sucked and sucked the more / Fruits which that unknown orchard bore’ (L 134-5); could this passage in itself be referring to the tree of knowledge? Inferences could be made about the poem serving as a warning to women not to engage in sexual acts with men: sexual knowledge will bring their downfall.

There are many other explorations of the figurative significance of eating in literature. To take Bram Stoker’s Dracula as an example: there are many readings which centre around the act of the vampire feeding off of others. These readings highlight patriarchy, phallogocentrism, the contemporary practice of using blood transfusions to reduce madness caused by bad blood, taboo subjects such as menstruation and, yet again, sex. Yes, the act of phallic shaped incisors piercing a woman can be interpreted as an act of penetration. Likewise, early in the novel, Jonathan Harker watches in a trance-like state as no less than three of the Count’s mistresses attempt to feed on him. There are many sexual references to ‘red lips’ and ‘voluptuousness’, and a description of one of the women ‘on her knees… [arching] her neck… lower and lower went her head… then the skin of my throat began to tingle’ (1897, 45). The whole feeding frenzy reads as a scene not unlike that found in a romance novel, and yet it is describing a female vampire feeding on a human male.

Through the sexualisation of female vampires and their degeneration to an almost animalistic state, it could be argued that links with sex and religion can again be found. Lucy’s state is altered from each transaction – as it were – making her less and less wholesome. Indeed, her transformation from a respectable woman into a heinous devil-incarnate could be viewed as a warning to women: if left to ‘survive’, she would eventually act like the aforementioned female vampires we have just discussed. After a stakeout at the tomb, Lucy is now described somewhat differently: ‘The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness’ (1897, 225).

At the time of writing it is rapidly approaching Valentine’s Day, when food becomes the language of love. Nigella Lawson has made a career out of sexualising food, so let’s give it a go ourselves. Treating the food allegorically, try describing the act of eating. Use verbs in the present tense to engage the reader’s senses. Employ alliteration to emphasise the ‘mouthfeel’ of your words, rolling them round on your tongue before giving life to them. The aim, of course, is for your reader to salivate at the thought of the images you’ve conjured, whetting their appetite to read on. Any more for any more? Happy writing.

A blog by Steve Marshall

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Further reading:
Lodge, D. (1992) The Art of Fiction. London: Penguin Books.

Mullan, J. (2006) How Novels Work. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Rossetti, C. (1995) ‘Goblin Market’ in Selected Poems of Christina Rossetti. London: Wordsworth Editions Ltd.

Stoker, B. (2003) Dracula. First published 1897. London: Penguin Classics.