The Last Night

There we are, the last night of the course, sharing writing around the table in the Booker Room. Everyone has brought along a piece of writing they've been working on over the past week, polishing and extending the first thoughts that appeared on their notebook during class exercises. They shyly hand out typed up copies and read their words aloud to the group. We listen and we comment and we think about the direction each piece might take.

Jo-Ann has an evocative piece about her grandfather's house in a rubber estate, the careful observation of details bringing alive both scene and character. Fisha's piece about a remembered room has been transformed into an article about her own growth of confidence. ("I've never shown a piece of my writing to anyone before," she says, surprised when we tell her that we could imagine her writing a newspaper column.) Both Jo-Ann's and Fisha's pieces sprang to life in last week's session where we used drawing as a way into memory.

Keiko has written a piece on the tsunami for the childrens' magazine she edits.

Helen took me at my word when I said write about something that brings a lump to your throat: she has written about a dear friend who threw a birthday party for her despite the fact that she was dying of cancer, and cries as she reads it. ("You know, I haven't cried for years.") Abby has transformed a memory piece from a previous class into a moving short story: she was online chatting to a friend when she realised that he had collapsed at the keyboard with a heartattack. Fortunately, the friend survived thanks to a text message she managed to get to his daughter, and Abby's story is intended as a very personal gift for him.

Viv also has a short story for us about a troubled marriage, and there's plenty of tension crackling under the surface. Karina stuns us all with a wonderfully dark and angry piece written in a very distinctive voice: is this woman actually going to murder the guy she detests so much? Again, both pieces have grown from real-life experiences.

Seven writers who've made a promising start ... who've begun to make the clay which can be moulded into a finished work of power and beauty. But of course, they still have a way to go to learn how to shape and fire and glaze the final product. I hope they will stick it out and learn, because they each have so much to say, so much to contribute.

There is no creative magic wand that can be waved over people who want to write. There's a long apprenticeship which demands real commitment, deep faith and copious infusions of the writings of others.

We adjourn to Delicious cafe (which Abby manages) with the trifle Fisha made for us, exchange addresses and plan to get together for another writing session soon.