It is hard to forget one particular creative writing lesson that might have ended in tragedy. The students were seated in groups critiquing their poems, an accepted and usually harmonious stage of the drafting process. One student who was fairly normal—whatever that might mean—took a comment about his poem personally and verbally attacked the person who had made it.
Within minutes he lost all control and turned his anger on the whole class. I declared an early coffee break and we escaped down the fire exit to the street, a marginally safer place. Up on the fifth floor the man was destroying the photocopier and the notice boards. At the time we believed there was safety in numbers and we did not expect students to carry weapons—I wonder if we would be so naïve today.
I also wondered later why that student had chosen to join a creative writing class in the first place. But rather than ask, I did something more decisive which was to persuade him it was possible—and desirable—for him to withdraw from the class without losing face or money (or being charged with any crime). The outcome, of course, was a happier class and formalised safety procedures.
By a rough count I have taught eight hundred creative writing students in the last fourteen years in classes that have mostly been happy, busy and secure. When asked about their reasons for enrolling in a writing course, students gave answers to suit the situation, unlike, say, prospective plumbing or hospitality students for whom there are easy answers connected with job skills. They are unlikely to talk about a passion for bathroom fittings or a fascination with cocktails. But creative writing is a matter of the mind and heart. It is about inventing things, and sometimes avoiding or disguising the truth. Paradoxically, it can also be about discovering some truth through the process of writing. While some might talk about the urge to write, the novel in progress or the need for a creative outlet in their lives, there is no single reason people want to write.
One applicant found his urge to write when he was sent a card featuring one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. A fourteen-line wonder! He admitted that despite thirteen years at school and five at university he knew nothing about poetry. Another class included nine lawyers studying crime fiction. Some planned to desert the law when