Online writing workshops.

Meanwhile, I'm still doing the MA. And this term we have weekly, online, workshops. Three of us write about 3000 words, submitted in advance, and we gather in a virtual chat room to post our comments. The tutor does her best to keep some sort of order, making sure we each comment in turn, and tapping her virtual ruler on the virtual desk if we retreat, too often, into playing.

So - that's the practicalities. I want to write about how this feels for me - I can't speak for any of the others. There were nine of us at the beginning of term, and only one has dropped by the wayside (with, no doubt, his own reasons). We all come with our own stories and prejudices and interests.

In the real world, I also belong to a writing group. We have been together a long time; we know who is robust and can manage having work dissected until it is in ribbons, and who needs a more gentle response. We care for each other, and produce the best work we can.

I put myself in the robust category. I am quite clear that someone pulling my writing apart is not saying anything about me. Sometimes I write reasonably, and sometimes I write rubbish, but all the time I am still me. There is no way to give that message to others we meet in a writing group online. Similarly, it is impossible to know the dreams, or the luggage, that our fellow writers might have when we cannot see their faces, or read body language.

Over the term we have grown braver in challenging each other. Initially we were generous, even gushing, in our praise and criticisms were well-hidden underneath the repeated assurance of how we absolutely love this book and can't possible wait for it to be published. While that is still there, we are less cautious with our comments now. We are learning from each other, from our moments of inspiration and our countless mistakes. Which, for me, makes the workshops more useful, even though it may mean some might find them more personally challenging.

We have formed an odd connection with each other. A strange familiarity - based only on the personnas we present in the chat room and our writing. There are spin-off 'friendships' on Facebook. We do our best to support each other, in a strange, virtual way.

So - is this group, with its tutor and its structure, a more useful learning exercise than my ad hoc, chatty, hyper-critical writing group. I have no idea. They both have a role to play. And you - have any of you experience of both? Which made more sense to you?

In case you were wondering, I'm still doing the MA.

It was a few weeks ago when I blogged about the challenge of online seminars. I was, initially, frantic - how would I ever keep up with the waterfall of ideas. I was the old lady in the corner, thinking, while everyone else was typing away throwing ideas and witticisms into the ether.

No, I haven't given up. And I'm even beginning to learn. But it's been a challenge.

The first task was to give myself permission to 'say' nothing. So I only contribute to seminars if I have something I really need to say. That, at least, took care of the anxiety.

So, I'm surviving. But if I'm simply surviving, then there is little point to doing an MA. I want to learn. And I am. Though rarely in the seminar itself. My learning takes place afterwards, when I can wallow in thinking time, unravel the ideas that have swum around the internet-seminar for the past couple of hours. Constructs such as 'narrative tension' begin to make more sense when I've let them swim in my head for a while. I begin to see that setting can act as a container for a story, and is not simply the backcloth. (Frey, in his book 'How to Write a Damn Good Novel' talks about setting as a crucible. I like that idea; I want to live with it for a while and see how I can use it in my writing.)

Solitary thinking can be so productive. For a start, when having a conversation with myself I am always right. New ideas pop up from somewhere and I can claim them all for myself. New ideas, like feathers, float about somehow, until (sometimes) the sink into something coherent. And then I can risk feeling smug that I am so clever, what with my originality verbal dexterity.

You're right. Ideas need airing in company. And our seminars, with their flood of comments, are no place for unpicking complications, or even delving into ideas in any depth. I could use the course forum; but no-one else uses in this way, and I'm not brave enough to be the first to put my head above the internet parapet.

So how can I possibly know if my thoughts are original, or useful, or even right? I can't, of course, though I would argue that there are few rights and wrongs in writing. But the reading and talking has opened up different ways of looking at things. And that has to be a start, surely?

And you - do you have your best ideas when you are on your own, or do they grow in discussion with other people?

Ideas are such fun!

Well, first I lob into the blogosphere thoughts about the nature of truth and untruth, and then it becomes something outside me, a discussion topic.  As well as the comments on this blog, I had emails, conversations with friends and family. Ideas on the nature of truth in fiction, history, even photography, as well as my original thoughts on memoir, all became part of the story. What fun! (If anyone has no clue what I'm talking about, click here to see what all the fuss is about.)

This is why I like ideas. They come out to play when you least expect it. You can throw them up in the air, see them tossed about and come down in a slightly different shape. They have become something different, reorganised, evolved.

Which is partly why I'm beginning and MA in Creative Writing this September.  Well, only partly.  It's mainly because it's what I feel like doing next.  But I couldn't write that on my personal statement (yes, I had to write a personal statement on my application form.  That was creative writing in the raw).  So I waffled about wanting my writing to improve, to 'get better' - whatever that means.  But basically I know I love it, want to do it, talk about it, think about it - and maybe even have something to show for myself at the end of it.

And yes, I'll be blogging about it.  But not about individuals, nor course grumbles, nor my thoughts on any one else's work.  Rather, it will be my reflections on my own efforts, and whether it is as exciting as I think it will be.  All those ideas to toss around - and who knows what shape my writing will be at the end of it. But that's the excitement, the joy of not-knowing.

And you - what would you do, if you could?  What unlikely course would you study, country you'd visit, remains you would excavate, scientific corner you'd - do whatever people do in scientific corners?  Okay, I know it's often not possible, but surely dreaming is fine.

(And yes, I know I'm self-publishing a book at the same time.  You don't need to remind me.  Thinking is in full spate in the self-publishing department.)

So, I now have student union card, and a bus pass.  Now, which will get me a better deal getting into the cinema . . .