While I am presently inspired to write poetry, and make my family sit down and read/listen to successive drafts, I hadn't noticed my eldest son, quietly scribbling himself. I come home from class each week, waffling about what I've learned and Kez soaks it up like a sponge. He started showing me his poems, and I've been astonished. They are good. They are really good. No wonder he's my first choice of editor when I want to present fiction for workshopping. I took most of his comments on my fantastic fiction piece to heart, but disagreed with two of them. My tutor picked both up as problematic. Now I'm more consciously sharing some of the ideas I'm still absorbing, and he's listening to my ideas on editing.
The MA has been a terrifically steep learning curve for me, I haven't got an education in literature to fall back on, and I come away from each class with my head buzzing. I have found the cost - being away from a husband and the rest of my children - has been high but the benefits have been spectacular. Not just for my writing, but for the two boys I have down in Winchester. I will miss the ideas that float around the class, sometimes too many to grab and scribble in my notebook. Consequently, I'm trying to get everything in, the reading, the classes, talks. I'm also hoping to go to the Winchester Poetry Weekend (11-13 March) to see Neil Astley and Francesca Beard on their sessions. I think I might drag Kez along.
Isn't it the best feeling when your kids become your editors? I remember the first time I asked my eldest son (already an adult by then) to read something of mine, not necessarily to edit at that point, just to test. I sat there calmly drinking my tea as he went through the story and when his first laugh out loud moment came, it felt like pure gold. Yes! He gets it!
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Hi Boz, my kids are my sternest critics. They are the ones (at 11,17,19,20,23,and 24) who tell me the pace has fallen off a bit or do I need that bit with the postman? On the plus side, they write naturally very well, are great communicators. They are sparing with laughs but you're rightr, it's a magic moment. My husband is far less critical and much more appreciative...but less help.
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