When Ashwini Gowariker swapped her job as Creative Director at JWT with that of a part-time creative consultant, she thought she would get to spend hours at spas in her free time. In the last 10 months, she has been chasing her passion for writing and pottery. One of her short stories won her the first place in the Unisun Creative Writing Competition held in association with British Council. She also won a place on a writing course at Lumb Bank, Arvon, UK supported by British Council and the Charles Wallace India Trust. Sadly, hedonistic visits to the spa remain a distant dream. Sitting thousands of miles away, an Arvon writing course seemed like a trip to Oz. Go there, spend a week with wizards and get your wish as a writer granted. Perfect. There was just one hitch. Unlike Dorothy and her friends, I didn’t have a single wish, I had many. I wanted inspiration AND expert guidance AND feedback from other writers AND sharper skills. But most of all, I wanted courage. Although I had been writing for years, I had never had the courage to share my work. Even when prodded about my writing, I would mumble or joke about telling tall tales. Whenever possible, I would change the subject. I didn’t want to do that anymore. I wanted what it took to call myself a writer. Down the yellow brick road Once I had chosen my course and writing house (Starting to Write at Lumb Bank in West Yorkshire), there was a daunting maze of procedures to walk through. Luckily, the folks at the British Council calmly guided me through complex processes, forms, emails and visa requirements. In a few weeks, I was racing from Manchester to Hebden Bridge; bumping into words and accents that years of watching BBC hadn’t quite prepared me for. The word I found myself using most was ‘huh’? Not a very eloquent start I am afraid, to a career in writing.

Enter Oz
Lumb Bank is an 18th century mill owner’s house surrounded by miles and miles of countryside. I had a room in the attic, with two skylights that blasted welcome sunshine. The study was in a barn, the dining room doubled up as a classroom, and the garden was full of nooks to write in. I met the other participants, who ranged from their mid twenties to late sixties. There was a school teacher, a banker and an actor among us. The only thing we had in common was ignorance of what would happen next. If I described the rest of the week, this newsletter would grow into a directory. So I’ll stick to the highlights.

WINE, WOMEN AND A FIREPLACE
On the first evening, fortified with good wine and food, one male and 14 female aspiring writers gathered by the fireplace to meet the tutors. Bernardine Evaristo is the award winning writer of three novels that fuse poetry and prose. Tobias Hill is one of the Next Generation poets whose latest poetry collection is Midnight in the City of Clocks.

STORYTELLING WITHOUT TELLING AND OTHER FACTS OF FICTION
We learnt to show rather than tell. Use the senses to tell a story, said the tutors. I wrote furiously, using up page after page to ‘show’ random objects I would normally have summed up in a word. We also learnt about story structure and the need to be ruthless when editing. By the end of four days, I had written more than I would normally do in a month or two.

WRITERS TURN STALKERS
One of the exercises involved trooping to the nearest town to find characters for fiction. Dogged about understanding my character, I followed a man around, sat at the next table at a café, and eavesdropped in on his conversations. Hours later, I returned to Lumb Bank, head buzzing with caffeine and hands itching to write. I kept looking back over my shoulder, expecting cops on my heels.

READING IN BARNS
In the evenings, there were readings. The tutors read from their books. Jo Verity, the guest tutor at our course came in for a reading and a chat. An author of two novels, she had taken an Arvon Foundation course not too long back, with Tobias as her tutor. This knowledge kept the stammer out of my voice when it was my turn to read a piece of my writing on the last day. And the blame goes to…On my way back from Lumb Bank, I visited a museum and got chatting with a curator. When she heard that I was in the UK for a writing course, she exclaimed – Oh, so are you a writer? Yes I said, with a straight face. It was true. I did feel like a writer. And I hold several people and organisations responsible for the fact! My heartfelt thanks to Unisun Publications and the British Council for giving me my first break as a writer; The Charles Wallace India Trust, for making the Arvon experience a reality; Arvon Foundation for organising such magnificent courses; and of course Tobias Hill, Bernardine Everisto and my co-writers at Lumb Bank, who brought alive an extraordinary experience.