Writing Skill: They Both Know

When we're writing dialogue, we want it to sound natural – but actual natural speech, in real life, is freighted down with tangents, filler words, dead-end sentences, and an astonishing amount of general burble. If you've ever transcribed real-life conversation, like I had to do at uni in Linguistics, you'll know what I'm talking about! It makes for a dreadful read. So in stories, we want to give the flavour of natural speech, without quite as much clutter. 

We also want to give a sense of the relationship between the characters: dialogue's a dynamic between people. And a sense of their individual points of view, what they know or don't about each other and what's happening, how they feel about it.

This Writing Skill is perfect for practising all of that, and you can use it with your story in progress OR with fresh characters, plus I've got a suggestion for writing groups / buddies. So give yourself the gift of ten minutes' writing time, grab your pen, notebook, and cuppa, and scribble away!

To start with, you need two people who know each other well, and are equals. They can be best friends, partners, siblings, whatever works for you. You can pick two from your story in progress, or whisk up two new characters with this quick character generator.

Something seismic has happened for Character A. How seismic you want to go depends on their age. It could be that they got / lost a job, the person they liked asked them out, they discovered their parent isn't their bio parent, they're moving city, etc.

• If you're using your story in progress, see if you've got anything like that already to use; if not, just make up a scenario that fits them, as a way to play with their voices – you don't have to put this bit in the actual story.
• If you're not using a work in progress, you can pick any of my suggestions above or anything else that appeals to you.

For the actual writing, assume that the reader already read the scene when the Seismic Thing happened, so there's no need to recap. Character B doesn't know it's now happened, but does already know all Character A's hopes / fears about the whole situation.

Write their dialogue / any physical reactions (eg whistling, etc) as elliptically as possible. Some possible starting lines could be…

• "So… I got it."
• "It's happening."
• "She asked."
• "It's time."
• "They admitted it."

A tells B it's happened, but super elliptically, because B already knows so much. They're both reacting to the news / each other, they're discussing repercussions / next plans, etc. 

Some tips for writing super natural dialogue here:

• Give as little extra explanation as humanly possible.
• Sentence fragments are great.
• Casual language / slang are great.
• Opaque references are great.

Writing groups / buddies: If you want to do this exercise together, each do your own then swap. See what you can work out about what's happened without the scene before. If you're working in a group, each write down your guesses for everyone before you confer. It's always amazing to see how little exposition readers actually need!

Have fun!

If you want to explore more ways to bring your stories and your characters to life with vivid, distinctive dialogue, the Writing Dialogue workshop is running on Saturday 8 August 2026, in Oxford. You’ll explore how to make your characters’ voices distinctive and natural, give their conversations purpose in the plot, and refine the nuts ‘n bolts so the writing is easier and more elegant. All in a friendly, supportive atmosphere, with plenty of fun! Read more about the workshop and book your place here.

Writing Skill: Charming Fool

A comic character, especially a central character, needs two really important features: they need to be flawed; we also need to like them. We're laughing at them, yes, but also with them, and it's affectionate, not mocking. Think of Bertie Wooster, in the Jeeves books; Sergeant Colon and Nobby Nobbs in the Pratchett books; Bridget Jones in Bridget Jones's Diary; Arthur in John Finnemore's Cabin Pressure series. This matters even if they're not the main character: we don't want our comic bits to slip over into simple nastiness: instead, we stay on the character's side, even when we're doubled over laughing at them.

So if you fancy stretching your comedic skills, to write fully funny fiction or just throw a splash of humour into your stories, this ten-minute Writing Skill will help you shape a perfect character for it. You can use it to whisk up a new character and possible story or use it with your existing story to turn a character comic.

To start off your character, pick something they think they're brilliant at: they think they're a brilliant _____, or they think they're brilliant at _____. Maybe they think they're a brilliant cook,  detective, or chess player. Maybe they think they're brilliant at understanding people, fossil hunting, or mountaineering. Spoiler: they really, really aren't. 

• If you're inventing a character, start inventing them through this, then give them a full name, age, and a day job, to round them out a bit more in your imagination. 
• If you're using your own story, pick a character that you'd like to make comic, and add that delusion of brilliance.

Next, based on your character's blithe delusion, pick an event to match. For example, if they think they're a brilliant detective: there's been a high-profile theft from the Ashmolean, which they're determined to solve. Whatever the matching event / challenge is, they'll set at it absolutely brimming with enthusiasm and confidence, to gleeful disaster at every stage.

A couple tips before you go further: first off, remember that we need to like them. They're deluded and confident, but not off-puttingly arrogant. Second, comedy and tragedy are a whisper apart and we want to stay on the side of comedy. That means they absolutely musn't be crushed by their failure: they remain gung-ho throughout, or at least still hugely optimistic about the next time and terribly knowing (deluded) about why this one went so badly. (This principle is called "no-harm", the same principle that slapstick uses.)

Now that you've got your character, their delusion, and the event, you can dive in! You can launch straight into the writing for ten minutes, as they cheerfully set off on their challenge OR spend ten minutes brainstorming / mapping  out the coming twists and disasters. (Some people prefer writing to discover; some prefer to plan. You do what suits you.) When ten minutes is up, you can carry on if you want or stop there, having tried out the new skill and tucked it into your repertoire.

If you want to explore more ways to be funny on the page, for full comedy or touches of humour, the Funny Fiction workshop is running on Saturday 1 August 2026, in Oxford. You’ll explore the different types of comedy, discover what tickles you most, and try out heaps of nifty techniques to sharpen and brighten your writing. All in a friendly, supportive atmosphere, with plenty of giggles! Read more about the workshop and book your place here.

How Obvious Should I Make It?

In any kind of fiction writing, we need to manage our secrets. We want to hide the ending so it's a surprise, not a slow-moving inevitable train – but not such a surprise that the reader feels cheated. We want to tuck in foreshadowing, but not give the game away completely – or hide the hints so well that no-one even notices them. 

So how do we find the balance between making things glaringly obvious or playing our cards so close to our chests that the story doesn't work? How do you get it right for everyone? It can feel impossible. And it is impossible – if you think of "everyone" as a single monolithic Reader, for whom you want it to work identically.

Instead, write for three different kinds of readers: Smug Readers, Absorbed Readers, and Happy Lil Passengers On A Train.

Smug Readers

Smug Readers are going to guess everything. They're going to spot every hint, remember every clue, smirk knowingly at every red herring, and predict the ending accurately.

And they'll be pleased about being right! It feels like solving a wordle, a crossword, a sudoku. They'll feel proud, satisfied, and yes, very smug. Quite deservedly so.

Let them guess. Give them the means to guess. If you hide things so well that you confound your smug readers, they'll be disappointed, not impressed. And you'll completely lose your…

Absorbed Readers

Absorbed Readers will spot some things, but not everything. They're absorbed, so they're paying close attention, but they're also absorbed in the story, not treating it as a guessing game. They'll read the foreshadowing and remember it, but they won't always put two and two together. They might have vague suspicions, but no more. Then, when they reach the reveal, they'll exclaim "Ohhhhhh! So that's why… Yes, I thought there was something odd about that!" 

They'll be thrilled at having been so cunningly confounded, and satisfied that it all hangs together. And when they reread it, they'll sing your praises at how clever you were, setting it all up.

So put the foreshadowing, the hints, the clues, where they'll see them – actually there, on the page. In words, not in a cryptic form that needs a Brain of Britain contestant to work it out. But put it somewhere that they won't spot it immediately – in the middle of a paragraph, for instance, or in the midst of some exciting action.

It's easy to feel like these are our ideal readers. But you also need to cater for your…

Happy Lil Passengers On A Train

Happy Lil Passengers On A Train are cheerfully immersed in the story. They're not trying to predict the direction – they're on a train! They're staring out the window while the story-scenery flows by, taking every red herring at face value, missing every scrap of foreshadowing, not making a single guess. And when they reach the reveal, they. Are. Astounded. Amazing! Incredible!

Happy Lil Passengers On A Train don’t want to be guessing anything: doing that means stepping outside the story, which means losing the lovely total immersion. They want to be taken on a wonderful journey and reach their astonishing destination. And then they will be very, very happy.

This means that everything, ultimately, has to be spelt out. At the point where your Smug Readers have already guessed a while back, and your Absorbed Readers have just gasped at the reveal – at the point where you think any reasonable reader should know this, how can they not, ffs – at the point where you need them to know this for the next bit of the story to work – you need to make a Train Announcement for the Happy Lil Passengers. Spell it out. In actual words. State it clearly where it's obvious: at the end or beginning of a scene, even at the end or beginning of a chapter, so no-one can miss it. And then, like a Train Announcement, say it again.

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Instead of writing for one kind of reader, you're writing for three kinds, in turn. First come the clues and hints, which the Smug Reader will spot. Make sure they're there, on the page, so the Smug Reader has a chance: they want to guess right! Then a bit later comes the goose-pimpling moment of dawning realisation, when the Absorbed Reader goes "Ohhhh… Oh, I bet…!" And then, when the reveal is DONE and the story is moving on to the next stage, or ending, a Train Announcement for your Happy Lil Passengers, with a bing-bong at the start, which they absolutely can't miss.

Some people are predisposed to be one or another kind of reader, but we can all be all of them, at different points. Even the smuggest reader, curled up with flu and a book, turns into a Happy Lil Passenger On A Train. As long as you're catering for all three in turn, every reader, whoever they are right then, can enjoy it.

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A Weekend In Oxford

If you're coming to a Summer of Writing workshop from outside Oxford, and want to make a weekend of it, here are my favourite suggestions for the perfect Oxford weekend. Obviously Oxford has heaps of things to do and a dozen dozen guidebooks, so this isn't remotely comprehensive: it's my idiosyncratic selection of the favourite places I'd take people, having lived here since 2002. Curated, of course, around your writing workshop on Saturday!

Accommodation

Absolutely book yourself a room in one of Oxford's gorgeous colleges, through University Bookings. The students are away so the rooms are available to book, and you get to roam through the college's gorgeous grounds as well, for the complete Oxfordian experience. Most of them do breakfast included, served in the college dining hall or buttery. The prices vary wildly, according to college and whim; this year they seem to start at £70 a night. (Last checked June 2026.) Also ask if you're allowed to leave your luggage in the porter's lodge after you've checked out, so you can explore luggage-free on Sunday.

Once that's booked for Friday and Saturday night, your itinerary begins!

Friday evening 

Your college (for the weekend) 

Check into your college room and have a wander around the quads and grounds of your chosen college, have a look in its chapel and dining hall, make sure to look up regularly for gargoyle-spotting, fill yer boots with Dark Academia inspiration, etc. Don't walk on the grass, though. Even students aren't allowed to, except during games of croquet.

Friday dinner 

For dinner, take a walk into Jericho, past Oxford University Press on Walton Street, largest university press in the world. (Cambridge will say theirs is older. Ours is bigger. And the second-oldest in the world.) And head to either of these restaurants:

• The Standard on Walton Street: best Indian food in Oxford. It's been running since 1972, and for many years had heavily tapestried high seating and an absolute veil of thick lace covering the huge front window. In 2009, the two sons took over from the father, transformed the interior into its lovely open new look, and also updated the cooking style to a fresher, more modern vibe. Kawsar is the brother who works the front of house and he's absolutely lovely.
• The Gardener's Arms on Plantation Road (not the one on North Parade!): beautiful bookish pub with a cheerful garden at the back, serving amazing vegetarian pub food. Their veggie burgers are absolutely stand-out. It's run by Silk, who's also absolutely lovely. (When you're standing at the bar, turn and look in the corner to your right behind you: that's a painting of Silk. Now you can recognise him.)

After dinner 

After dinner, if you want to explore a bit more before bed and get a final nightcap, stroll back into town along the Woodstock Road / St Giles, past the Eagle and Child pub where Tolkien and CS Lewis held their writing group (currently closed until they can fix up the building), past Martyr's Memorial, and turn left onto Broad Street. 

Wander between the colleges, over the brick cross where the martyrs actually died (try not to venerate the nearby manhole instead by mistake, as many groups of tourists do), past assorted bookshops and museums (don't worry, they're on Sunday's list), past the Bodleian Library. Turn right onto Catte Street and almost immediately left onto Queen's Lane, and walk under the Bridge of Sighs. (Cambridge and Venice have one of those each too. Ours is better. Obvs.) Various stories compete to explain its name, mostly apocryphal, so feel free to make up your own.

Immediately after you pass under the Bridge of Sighs, turn left down the little alleway. Trust me. Keep following it, as it twists and leads you past bins, and you'll get to the Turf Tavern: a huge and sprawling tavern dating back to 1381, which proudly boasts its history on assorted chalkboards, patio / outside space on both sides of it, and it nestles up against a portion of the old city wall.

Head back to your college to fall asleep to the sound of Oxford's many, many bells. If you hear bells ringing five minutes after all the others, that's Christ Church's Great Tom: they don't hold with this newfangled modern time, brought in with those newfangled "railways" and their need for consistent "timetables", and proudly stick to Oxford time.

Saturday

Breakfast & packed lunch 

It's workshop day! Breakfast in your college if they do breakfast. You'll want a packed lunch for your workshop and I always suggest something non-carby for writing days, so head to Taylors Oxford on 1 Woodstock Road to pick up one of their delicious customisable salads. (You can pop it in the fridge at mine when you arrive.) If your college doesn't do breakfast, you can also breakfast at Taylors, with a pastry and coffee. NB: There are two Taylors right next to each other across the road from each other. If you're facing them, you want the one on the right.

Off to your workshop! 

Then walk up Woodstock Road to outside the Radcliffe Observatory, where you can catch the #6 bus to get to mine. (Bus stop map-pin.) You're getting off at the top of Woodstock Road, at the First Turn Lane stop (map-pin), and you have a map in the email I'll have sent you.

The 9:36 am bus will get you to First Turn Lane at 9:44, 3-4 mins walk from mine. If you get anxious about bus times and prefer to arrive early, you can get the 9:16 am bus, which reaches your stop at 9:24, and pass any extra time peacefully overlooking the canal (map-pin) three minutes' walk from the workshop. You're welcome to arrive at mine from 9:45 am.

Your workshop starts! (At 10 am sharp. Unlike Christ Church, I don't keep Oxford time.) I'll also give you a little map of the rivers, canals, and woods around mine, so you can have a refreshing wander at lunchtime if you want.

After the workshop finishes at 4pm, we usually go to The Plough pub on the green, three minutes' walk from the house, to toast your success and socialise a bit more.

A good long walk & dinner

I'm now making the bold assumption that you want a good long walk, while all the excitement and new info from the workshop percolates, and now that the heat of the day has eased a little. This is an hour's walk, if you're going at a steady pace, with another half-hour at the other end.

Walk through Wolvercote village, over the railway bridge with its sweeping view of Port Meadow, all the way through the village and past the Trout pub (that's where young Lyra worked for a bit in Philip Pullman's Book of Dust series), over the bridge, and turn left through the gate onto the meadow by the ruins of Godstow Abbey. (That was built in 1133 and housed Benedectine nuns. It also features in The Book of Dust.) The map I gave you at lunch covers all the way up to Godstow Abbey.

You're now on Port Meadow: a stretch of ancient meadow that has never been built on or even ploughed for at least 4000 years. It's still used as grazing, for cows and horses, and you'll probably pass some of them as you walk. As well as heaps of swans, geese, etc. Stroll south alongside the river, soaking in the beauty and the sight of Oxford's spires in the distance, for about half an hour, till you find a gate in front of you with another gate to the right, here (map-pin): that's the gate leading to The Perch Pub. And the bit of riverbank you're standing on is pretty much where Alice Liddell and Lewis Carroll had the picnic that led to him writing Alice in Wonderland.

Go through the gate and follow the winding path up to the Perch, with its huge beautiful garden and protected willow trees. Their food's fantastic (the head chef's called Craig, btw) but they're definitely on the pricier side, so if you want a slap-up dinner, have your dinner there (their pies are especially good), otherwise just stop for a coffee or a drink in the gorgeous garden, while you jot down all the interesting thoughts you had while walking. Do admire the truly ancient apple tree, carefully fenced round and propped up to support it!

From the Perch, walk back onto the meadow the way you came, and continue on through the rest of the meadow, crossing the Medley Bridge and the Bailey Bridge, then the last stretch of meadow to Walton Well Road. (Those three links are map-pins, to help you find your way.) 

You're now back in Jericho, so if you didn't eat at the Perch, you can head to the Gardener's Arms or The Standard, whichever you didn't try last night. And if you didn't go to the Turf Tavern last night, you could pop in there - or even if you did. There's nothing like going somewhere twice, while you're away, to make you feel like it's already your usual spot! Or if you want a drink somewhere new (and also very old), head to The Bear Inn in the happy chaos of alleys behind the High Street, with its collection of thousands of tie ends started in 1957. (Time was, you could cut the end of your tie off in exchange for a pint.)  It's popular with academics, so if any are still in town in August, you can eavesdrop some fascinatingly odd bits of conversation!

Or simply go back to your college (it's yours, this weekend) and sit on a bench in one of the quads, with your notebook, writing quietly and peacefully, while the bats dart in and out of the ivy and wisteria. 

Sunday

Lots of possibilities here, so pick and choose from the below, for as much as you want to fit in and how much time you need to travel home. 

Breakfast / Brunch

If your college doesn't do a breakfast, then for a super-trad Oxford experience, Queen's Lane Coffee Shop is the longest-running coffee shop in Oxford, since 1654, and does a lovely all-day breakfast. Or for a very Oxford greasy spoon, Browns Café in the Covered Market (not the posh Browns on Woodstock Road) has been going since 1924! If you're staying near Jericho, The Jericho Café is another Oxford staple. (Note: The Vaults & Garden Cafe in St Mary's University Church, which I used to recommend, has sadly closed down.)

 Then pick your museumy option!

Museumy Option 1: Science and books

The History of Science Museum on Broad Street is my favourite museum in Oxford, mostly because it has the world's largest collection of astrolabes. It's small but beautiful, in a building that absolutely breathes peace. Don't miss the Lyra exhibition, complete with alethiometer, in the one small basement, and the larger basement with the history of medicine exhibits.

Directly opposite the museum is Blackwells Bookshop, home to The Norringtom Room, featuring three miles of bookshelves. (Not all in one long row, obviously.) The first time I saw it, at 19 years old, I started hyperventilating at the sight of so many books and had to go back outside to calm down. Also another four storeys of books, in this huge and sprawling bookshop, with secondhand books at the very top, and a cafe inside the bookshop.

Museumy Option 2: Natural history, cultures, and greenery 

Stroll up South Parks Road to the Natural History Museum. That's pretty cool, but even better, walk right through the Natural History Museum to the Pitt Rivers Museum at the back. (Yes, the one that Lyra visited. We are very much in favour of Lyra's Oxford!) It's an anthropologial museum, absolutely crammed with stuff - so much so that vast swathes of it are in drawers, with signs inviting you to open them! And very beautifully, everything's organised by purpose, rather than culture or time period, so you'll have a cabinet of all the different ways to make fire, for instance. Brilliant inspiration if you write fantasy! The famous / infamous shrunken heads have finally, respectfully, been removed. Do put a coin into the slot with the weird little clay creatures!

When your head is bursting with thoughts, continue strolling up South Parks Road to University Parks. The northernmost side has a lovely tree-lined avenue, if you're after shade, and then you can wander down that to the pond and the river, and fill your eyes with greenery.

Lunch time?

For a bite at lunchtime, The Covered Market has a number of options to pick from: my favourite is Georgina's, up the narrow wooden stairs into a marvellous little cafe. Alternately, if you want to survey the Oxford rooftops, the Ashmolean Rooftop Café serves lunch from 11:30.

An afternoon in a punt

(Sensitive crimes and a book of poetry stained with the butter drips from crumpets optional)

From the center of town, wander under the Bridge of Sighs and down Queen's Lane (map-pin link), through its twists and turns round the backs of the colleges. The fourth time you turn, when you're here (map-pin link), you'll see the pavement widen in a little curve to your left. Go stand in that curve, then turn around to see the fairytale spires of All Souls' College rising. If I were with you, I'd tell you that All Souls' has never had a single student.

(Then I'd pause, before admitting it's a Fellows College, which is why.)

Keep on down Queen's Lane, and as always in Oxford, look up lots: gargoyles are eveywhere! You'll emerge on The High, next to Queen's Lane Coffee Shop (oldest coffee shop in the UK, ignore the lies that Grand Cafe opposite tells) and carry on down the High to Magdalen Bridge. Just before you cross the Bridge, veer to the left to go down to Magdalen Bridge Boathouse, to rent a punt. (If you know you're definitely going to punt, and are prepared to commit to a time, book a punt beforehand, so you don't have to stand in the queue - it can get very long.) 

Then spend a glorious hour or two punting along the river past the Oxford Botanical Gardens (oldest botanical gardens in the UK) and Christ Church Meadow, through river scents and tree shade, all Oxford's spires and spikes showing to their best advantage, with occasional bells. So that when you do, finally, leave Oxford to head home, your eyes, mind, and soul are absolutely swimming with peace and joy.

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Join in the upcoming Summer of Writing

 

Writing Skill: Mystery Place

Writing mysteries is partly about an intense atmospheric sense of place, and partly a complex little puzzle of laying out your clues, reveals, and red herrings so the reader's neither bewildered nor bored, but enthralled, guessing along eagerly. This Writing Skill is a nifty way of playing with both halves, your rich place and mapping out the story's shape.

 The Writing Skills come alive when you play with them, rather than just reading them, so steal yourself 10–20 minutes, grab your pen and notebook / some paper, pour yourself a cuppa, and start creating.

Step 1: The Place 

First off, pick a place you find suitably intriguing or interesting. That can be somewhere you know, or a location from photos, or a random interesting place in the world. If you want ideas, try the first four Place links on the Writers' Links page. The first two let you choose a location by type, then you have lots of pictures of it; the third lists types of places for inspiration; the fourth gives you unusual locations around the world.

Step 2: The "facts" 

Next, write down 20 "facts" about the place, from the banal to the mysterious: some real ones, if you know anything about the place; some made-up ones; anything you randomly come up with. Allow yourself to invent and to add "silly" / "boring" ones. They don't all need to be great facts: that's why you're writing 20. And taking the pressure off lets you be more creative.

Step 3: The story 

Once you've got your list, you're going to select five of them:

• Pick one "fact" as the final piece of information that explains everything.
• Pick one "fact" as the first puzzling thing that your character encounters or discovers.
• Pick three "facts" to go in between, which do ultimately help explain what's going on with this place, but which also seem to point to another answer. Put them in order of increasingly surprising / dramatic / intriguing.

You now have the shape of your mystery story: the first puzzling thing to create the initial mystery; the three layers / plot twists / red herrings to give shape to the middle of the story; and the final reveal. You also have plenty of background on your place, and a good sense of it (possibly some photos too) to write compelling description-as-action-and-atmosphere, as your character explores and starts to uncover the mystery.

You can stop there if you want: you've already practised the techniques of a) brainstorming freely; b) mapping out a story shape according to five pivotal "reveals"; and c) using place to generate the story. If you'd like to carry on, start writing the story from the character first arriving at the place, some atmospheric description, and uncovering the first puzzling thing…

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Should I Just Give Up Writing My Novel?

It’s a fair question. Writing a novel takes a lot of time and dedication. Some people will rush in to say “Nooo! Never give up!” But if you’re asking, it deserves consideration. Maybe that specific novel is something you’re ready to ditch; maybe it’s become an albatross around your neck. You don’t have to carry on if you don’t want to. It doesn’t make you a quitter.

Or maybe you’re having a standard creative crisis point, the ones every writer and creative gets, but you don’t know about those yet. And if you ditch this one, the next project will reach the same crisis points – precisely because they are standard.

It’s not a question I can answer for you. But I can pose the questions which will help you decide and I can tour you through the standard crisis points you might be having.

Mapping Out Mist

The Chaos of Art

The thing we’re creating doesn’t yet exist.
We’re sat in the mud pit, banging our rocks
and shouting at flowers. Suddenly adult, insist
on a Timeframe of Output, firm, at a desk,
mapping out… mist. We can’t yet exist
in such untrammelled time. Thought-barges collide,
now huge in the fog, already. A list?
We detail the tips of our icebergs and teeter,
the swaying unseen bulk dismissed,
placating the busying Protestant mind
while we grow things that don’t yet exist.

I wrote that in 2023, while I was planning a new novel and also the Planning A Novel workshop. It’s a strange business, planning things that don’t exist, which also can’t exist without a bit of planning. You might have an exciting heap of ideas (as I did with the workshop) or reams of first draft (as I did with the novel). It has a definite existence in potentia, but… well, it doesn’t exist.

I plan a lot of things that don’t exist. Novels, courses, workshops. Every year, when I find out the two new Summer of Writing workshops, I set about writing the workshop descriptions: a line or two introducing the topic, fine; a paragraph of what we’ll cover, cool; and then a paragraph beginning “By the end of this workshop, you’ll have…” My brain skids to a halt so fast it leaves tyre tracks.

How can I possibly say that? I don’t know! The workshop doesn’t exist yet! I haven’t made it! I frown, scribble, cross out, panic, go for a walk. At some point, in the next day or two, my brain will leap forward confidently and declare, “Come on, it’s easy. If you went on a workshop described like that, what would you expect to have done by the end? Cos that’s probably what that bit should be? Duh.” And I briskly scribble that final line.

I’ve tried writing down that sage impatient advice, for future years, but it doesn’t work. I still need the “frown, scribble, cross out, panic, go for a walk” routine. Somewhere in that process, I’m working it out: mapping out mist.

Fog

Fires, canal-side grey. The
faint sparks drown in air. Light
fades and swells, ballooning
flimsy round a lost lamp.
Follow the path – but it’s gone.
Feel for barbed, bare hawthorn:
find where escaped thoughts hide.

The frown-scribble-crossing-out bit is feeding your brain all the puzzles you want it to solve. The moments that you’re walking, or staring out the window, thinking you’re not thinking but actually thinking very hard, are often the most productive. But you also need to capture all those mist-emerging thoughts, and order them so you can find them again. But how do you order something which has no order, because, again, it doesn’t exist yet? And you can’t have too much order, too soon: you need to keep the possibilities open.

Focus

Fixed stare – at nothing – I
float: the brambles have spread…
folding origami
flowers with unseen hands…
Focus! But as my dreams
flit, I see their work: they
fix what I’m not watching.

That’s wild mental work. During this work, I often painstakingly devise the exact thing I need to help me capture ideas. To draw these felt-tip rectangles, it would help to have a straight edge – a piece of cardboard, perhaps? I could mark the length and height of the rectangles on the cardboard, so they’d all be the same. Something firm enough to press a felt-tip against, with regular units of measurement I’d have to create… Oh, look, I’ve invented the ruler. Well done, me.

These pieces of paper: they belong together. But their order might change: I can’t staple them. I need something like a staple, but which I can easily put on and take off. Something that slides on, instead of piercing the paper. Perhaps, with a longer length of thin metal than a staple, I could twist it to fashion some kind of… Oh. I’ve invented paperclips. Again. I’m the Elon Musk of stationery.

When your mind is that full of half-seen story, you become simultaneously absolutely brilliant and very stupid. It helps to have stationery, for a start. A lot of stationery, if only to save yourself the trouble of inventing it from first principles. I’ve gradually learnt to add all the relevant stationery to my writing bag. For the first Planning A Novel workshop, I put in my biggest ever order, to create what we variously termed the “stationery villages” or “non-stationary stationery”:

And alongside the stationery, techniques. Over the years, and some eleven or so novels, I've worked out principles and processes, strategies that now seem as simple as paperclips. I lay my notes on those next to me, alongside the paperclips, the post-its, the slide-binders and felt-tips. I know that even though I haven't yet mapped out this mist, I have the tools of my creative cartography right there: the approaches for how to map out mist.

Esoteric problems often have deliciously simple solutions. "This is how you join pieces of paper you'll later re-order." "This is how you turn a series of brick story walls into things you can explore." "This is how you free your mind to work on one piece of the puzzle, without the whole Jenga-tower of thought falling down." Because if you can sort out the practicalities, the rest of your head is free for the esoteric. We need both: the simple solutions, and the respect for the esoteric, the seemingly-invisible work we’re doing.

And as you veer between the mapping and the mist, in strange ways, with a lot of apparently mindless staring at starlings and some seemingly pre-school-style Busyness With Felt-Tips, you’re conjuring up something that will, and increasingly does, exist.

Lapse

Light slips, between soft sounds:
loose as humming, it’s a
lilt of a moment, mind,
life – a caesura in
liturgy: we forget
lists, briefly, slide into
liquid thoughts, lipid ways.

The Planning A Novel workshop is running on 9 August 2025 in Oxford, exploring how to support all those strange kinds of thinking, heaps of practical solutions, and a truckload of lovely stationery. You can see the complete list of workshops, past reviews, and how to book here.

Tips for a perfect Summer of Writing

Summer is a busy, social time, so in one sense an odd time for workshops – but it's also a creative time. We forget, sometimes, that we're animals. That like any animal, our energy levels rise with the warm weather, alongside our adventurousness, our sense of fun, our enthusiasm, our interest – which is all, in a sense, our creativity. The long winter months often get the credit for creative endeavour, what with staying indoors and not much to do, but creativity isn't a faut de mieux: it's our lifeblood. Our joy. And like the rest of our joy in life, it jumps up and down and does cartwheels in the summer. That's why I run workshops in the summertime, even though it's also such a busy time – it's the perfect time for adventure and discovery. So here are my tips to create yourself a glorious Summer of Writing.

As well as the workshops, book some time off for yourself to write, whether that means from work, from your family, or a pact with yourself. I suggest treating each workshop as a two-day block, so you're just as "booked off" from 10-4 on the Sunday as if you were at a workshop. (That means no other duties, no errands or chores, no family commitments, no arrangements to meet – just a clear space of time for you and your writing.) If you can, look at also booking a few weekdays or a week off from work, as writing time.

Be strict about your start time and protect the writing time like an angel with a flaming sword – but within that time, be free. You don't need to treat writing time like work and it's much better not to. It isn't work, it's a joy! And the more you enjoy it, the more you want to write. (Enjoying it doesn't mean it's always "easy" – we enjoy doing hard things, too. Just think of crosswords and Sudoku. Enjoying it means it's fun.) Don't set yourself up with a bunch of goals, either – throw all that "SMART" nonsense to the wind, forget about aims, wordcount, page counts, estimates, etc. A good writing day is a day spent writing. That is the only criterium. Protect the time, and within the time be free. There's a rock-solid evidence base behind this advice; you can read more about that here.

Write by hand, unless that's genuinely physically impossible for you. There's fantastic evidence that when we write by hand, we write more, for longer, and better quality. Your handwriting doesn't matter, as long as you can read it. A ballpoint pen will quickly tire your hand out though, because it relies on friction to drag out the ink. If you're right-handed, buy a fountain pen – you can get a Parker from WH Smiths for £20 and under, and their nibs are superb quality. (More expensive pens usually have more expensive casings, not better nibs.) Stock up on ink cartridges while you're at it and cache them everywhere, so you never run out. If you're left-handed, and can't use a fountain pen, try a fineliner or a gel pen. (Gel pens are lovely but run out very quickly.) With no friction, you can write happily for hours without getting a sore hand.

The best part about writing by hand, though, is that you can write anywhere. It's summer! You don't need a dim room to see the screen or a powerpoint nearby. Don't lock yourself in a room at a desk, telling yourself you have to "take this seriously" – go outside! Write in the garden, if you won't be interrupted. Leave the house and go adventuring! Find a coffee shop with a garden or one outdoors, like AMT on Cornmarket. Write in a pub garden (they serve coffee, too). Walk across Port Meadow and sit outdoors at the Perch, or try the lovely garden of the Gardener's Arms. Write in meadows, in parks. Take a packed lunch, a bottle of water, a flask of coffee, and off you go! There are heaps of wonderful places to write outdoors in Oxford. (Check for available loos, too – you'd be surprised; even University Parks has well-kept loos in the middle. And AMT is in emergency striking-distance from the refurbished loos by the Covered Market.) If it's drizzling, or chucking it down, find a covered garden – just being in the fresh air is enlivening and inspiring, and the smell of rain on soil contains a chemical which makes us happy. (More than once I've started writing in University Parks, then walked through a downpour to arrive grinning and drenched at the Jericho Tavern, and slowly steamdried in their covered garden. It's fine to get wet, just make sure the writing stays dry!) All the adventuring makes it much more fun and gives you a much wider range of stimulus and inspiration than you'd get at home at a table or a desk.

Once you start adventuring, you might want a Writing Bag: a sacred, adored bag, big enough to carry your notebook / an A4 pad and any assorted pens or notes you want with you, and waterproof. (This is England, to be fair, even in summer.) I have two, a slim one for just a few essentials, and a glorious great multi-pocketed beast for when I need the Full Monty with me and a packed lunch to boot. Both are leather; the first was a cast-off, many years ago; the beast was a £5 charity shop WIN. The writing lives in the writing bag, along with plenty of spare paper and ink / pens. Mine also has a tiny stapler (with eyes) and spare staples, plus assorted coloured pens. (Okay, 90 coloured pens.) Word to the wise: don't put your waterbottle or coffee flask in your writing bag.

You'll probably have your phone with you too, so here's an expert tip: put it on airplane mode. That's usually the only way the battery will last all day and still leave you enough for some texts or a phone call at the end of your writing. Plus, of course, it spares you that enemy of writing: internet distraction. If an idea is tricky, it's so easy to dive into the instant-affirmation of Facebook notifications instead; having it on airplane nudges you away from that. If you do want to look something up, or browse a bit while you're having a break, you can easily switch it back to normal mode, but the fragile battery life of a smartphone is excellent motivation to switch it back to airplane promptly.

Everyone's concentration span varies – mine is almost exactly an hour, and then I need to float back up for a bit, stare around me, eat some water mint, chat with a passing duck, order another coffee, whatever. Don't flog yourself beyond your concentration span; find your natural pace. (That's where having your phone on airplane really helps; it's easier to find your natural pace without distractions. Also, don't eat random plants unless you definitely know what they are; quite a few are poisonous.) After two or three hours like that, I usually need a longer break, which is generally a good moment to eat my lunch, have a wander, maybe change location, perhaps accept that it really is raining and wedging the umbrella handle into my cleavage isn't totally working. Most people can manage about five hours of sustained concentration total a day. That's hard to believe, given the hours most of us work, but nonetheless true. And writing, as well as being enormous fun, is very sustained concentration. Sometimes I spread those hours out, between 10 and 5, with breaks and lunch and walks; sometimes I do a solid block from 12 to 5:30, with only a few float-up breaks. I've learnt not to push it past the 5 hours, give or take. This is summer; this is life; enjoy the rest of the time for other things as well, like a long relaxing walk home, meeting up with friends for a sunny drink, cooking a meal slowly, whatever you enjoy. (Remember not to schedule any Duties, though, that steal the writing time. Duties are for other time.)

A summer of writing becomes an absolute gift to yourself. Suddenly, setting the time aside for writing isn't a chore, something that could otherwise be used for holiday, or meet-ups, or family time – it's a joy, a luxury, a secret delight. You fall asleep the night before excited to wake up, with your writing bag ready, anticipating the time as if it's a rendezvouz with a lover. You spend your writing days surrounded by beauty, gloating in the wonder of it, staring into your secret worlds. You push on into the autumn, layering on extra tights, scarves, and cardigans. You smile secretly in the winter, as you type up the summer's writing or keep on writing with freezing rain hammering the windows, and as you pass your spots. And you feel your excitement rise, as spring finally starts to warm again, at the thought of being back out there, completely free, completely yourself, writing.

Join in the upcoming Summer of Writing

 

A long overdue update, in pictures, & a super writing exercise

The blog's been quiet for so long, while behind the scenes I've been doing ALL THE THINGS and my blog-posts-to-write notebook is bursting its spine with lovely things to come, plus NaNoWriMo is already sending its unearthly shimmer over the horizon, so here's a quick rundown of the (mostly) writerly things I've been up to and a glimpse of all the blog-posts-to-come that I've foraged. Plus A BONUS KITTEN. And at the end, a super writing exercise.