Dark Angels in Conversation

Writing and place
Co-founder John Simmons in conversation with Associate Partner, Richard Pelletier

John to Richard

Place is always important to any writer. I mean a number of things by that. First, the places we go where the surroundings inspire writing, such as the locations for our courses. But second, and what I’d like to talk about here…the places where – after we return home from a Dark Angels experience – we find we are best able to write.

SKAKESPEARE AND COMPANY “…an estimated 30,000 aspiring writers have bunked at Shakespeare’s over the decades, sleeping on intermittently bedbug-infested cots and benches scattered throughout the store in exchange for a couple of hours of work a day and a promise to spend at least some of their downtime reading and writing…”

I was thinking as well that people often arrive at one of our courses feeling uncertain, perhaps questioning “Am I a writer?” But in most cases they leave saying quietly but confidently “Yes, I am a writer”. So where do we then choose to write? A coffee shop in town or a shed in the garden? I’m always fascinated to hear from other writers, and to visit the houses where, for example, Dickens, Jane Austen, Herman Melville, Dylan Thomas, Ernest Hemingway wrote. Perhaps they shed light on our own writing practices?

Richard to John

Place is magic. I once lived a couple doors away from the lifelong home of H.L. Mencken, possibly the greatest American stylist after Mark Twain. The decision to live there was deliberate. Outside my windows: the H.L. Mencken fountain, encircled by bronze replicas of his books. What a place to begin writing, inspired by the man who said: “Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard.” (Also: Edgar Allen’s Poe’s house was a few blocks away.)

I remember visiting Monticello. I was awed by Thomas Jefferson’s writing ‘cabinet’ as he called his office. This was a space wholly dedicated to writing, to words. But you just could not escape the shackles – the monstrosity of the slave quarters.

That’s a long way from Stumptown Café, where I spent several good hours yesterday, strangely impervious to noise and music, working on my book. What sorts of conditons inspire you? And whose writing spaces have you seen?

John to Richard

I try to visit writers’ houses wherever I go – or places associated with writers. A visit to New Bedford was a perfect accompaniment to reading Moby-Dick as it’s Melville’s whaling town and the place where the Seaman’s Chapel is.

But the place I love most as a writer’s house is Milton’s Cottage on the outskirts of London (Chalfont St Giles was deep in the countryside when Milton escaped the plague there in the mid-17th century). It’s a poky little house, low-ceilinged, dark – I wrote about it in a book called Common Ground.

Milton’s Cottage

The upstairs was inaccessible except by a rope, and that’s where the women of Milton’s household had their bedrooms. Milton by then was blind and infirm, so he never went upstairs, but he wrote the story of Paradise Lost, with its scenes of Heaven, Hell and the Garden of Eden in this tiny space. Perhaps not having sight helped him imagine.

The lesson I took out of that is you can write anywhere. Roald Dahl’s shed and Dylan Thomas’ boathouse were very confined spaces. You don’t need to get your writing conditions spacious or luxurious, so I now enjoy writing in coffee shops, the British Museum, the Royal Academy and even on the London Underground. You forget where you are – except I find the buzz of noise and conversation in the background helps me focus more on my writing. And there’s home, of course, with different spaces. Do you have a room at home where you write?

Richard to John

(As you know, I grew up next door to New Bedford, the location for our proposed first Dark Angels America course.)

Yes, I do have a writing space at home, but it’s not ideal. I wish I could write anywhere. A lot depends on what I’m working on. Right now my new writing home is a godsend. It’s downtown, a 25-minute walk from my apartment. Folio: The Seattle Athenaeum. (I’m there so much, they put me on the website’s home page.)

Folio: The Seattle Athenaeum

The Athenaeum is a Ben Franklin idea and is a kind of private library, a ‘community of the book’ for readers and writers. This room is where I work, usually alone. (I’m writing some of this at Folio.) Bookcases packed with literature, sunlight streaming through, good coffee nearby. The staff is friendly and warm and helpful — very inspiring place. I share the sentiment of several Seattle writers who told Folio staff that they were maxed out on cafes.

You and I spent some time together at the Royal Academy working on one of these conversations. What a thrill that was. You’re a man on the move — all over town and across the continent. I’m impressed that you can write anywhere. Keeping that in mind, how do you think about your own lovely writing loft and the role it plays in your writing?

John to Richard

Strangely, perhaps, I use it sparingly. I keep it for best, as my mother would have said. That means Friday nights – reserved for writing for the last three decades as a now ingrained habit. So of course it’s now Friday evening and I’m in my loft, writing this to you. Outside the window a big black night sky, below at the horizon the lights of London; inside the loft I’m listening to Michael Nyman’s music for The Piano while writing. As opposed to writing ‘anywhere’, this is my space, I’m enclosed and I find it easy to concentrate here in a way that is never as intense at any other time or any other place in the week. This rounds off my week – but time zone differences, you still have much of the day before you.

 Richard to John

Above Loch Torridon

Time and place — among the eternal concerns of writers. Lovers, too. It was a couple of hours drive from Moniack Mhor. The last nine to ten miles on a winding, one track road with steep drops on either side. I’d just become a made man in our little society. Heart full, head happy. And I found myself, with my love, my wife, in a glorious cottage high above the Loch. Soon I was writing outside, in the swaying, rustling trees. And the breeze that day, let me tell you about the smell of the wind off the water, and the warmth of the sun, and the way the sunlight sparkled and fell on the worn planks under my feet…

Dark Angels in Conversation December 2016

lucy
Lucy Beevor at Loughcrew, Ireland on an Intensive Foundation course.

Dark Angels Associate Partner Gillian Colhoun chats with student-writer, Lucy Beevor.

Gillian to Lucy

It was wonderful to spend those few days with you at Loughcrew. Tell me, did you have any expectations of what you wanted to get out of the course?

Lucy to Gillian

Ah, Gillian, they were magical days! It was fantastic to meet you, John and Mike – three of the Dark Angel magicians – and my fellow white rabbits, Mike, Fiona, Emily, Olive and Megan.

My expectations?….I tried not to have any expectations at all. I often imagine myself forwards into all sorts of situations and then get disappointed when what I’ve convinced myself will happen doesn’t (I obviously haven’t mastered the technique of visualisation, ahem). So, this time, I made a conscious effort not to anticipate what I would get out of it.  It would be a step into the unknown. 

Having said that, I did get rid of a concern early on – that ‘it was a course for people writing for business’. How would that be relevant to me, when here I was, turning my back on 20 years of writing for organisations, and wanting to dig deeper into my own fictional writing, poetry etc? I was really lucky to speak to you about the course well in advance,and of course was inspired by Thérèse Kieran, who writes poetry and has done the Foundation and Advanced courses.  She assured me that the course was as relevant to me as it was to two marketing consultants, a strategy director, start-up business leader and mobile app developer (my fellow white rabbits).

Gillian to Lucy

You’re right. Dark Angels is like a lighthouse to many kinds of writers. Perhaps that’s part of its magic, not knowing how the mix of experience, exercises and sensibilities will work together.  I was particularly interested in your thoughts since I know you’ve participated in different kinds of creative writing workshops and courses. How did the Intensive Foundation course compare with those?

Lucy to Gillian

The immersiveness of the Foundation course sets it apart from other courses I’ve done. You created a ‘bubble’ for us – a beautiful location, we didn’t have to think about any practicalities – food and drink were all provided (copiously) – and you rolled us on from one writing exercise to the next.  We didn’t have space to hesitate so I kept leaping in; there wasn’t time for me to let those gremlins jump into my mind and undermine what I was doing so I kept going. I thought the course was beautifully planned.

Also you ‘magicians’ didn’t critique our work at all. That was another difference. The writing courses I’ve done – weekly classes, one-off workshops and a weekend workshop –  have had an expectation of the tutor judging participants’ work, to varying degrees. You, John and Mike were very supportive but you weren’t there to tell us if our writing was good or bad. Instead, it seemed that by managing the different experience and sensibilities of the participants, you created a space – a laboratory perhaps – in which we could each experiment and test and pull and stretch our own styles of writing, see where it took us.

Gillian to Lucy

Your analogy of experimenting in the laboratory feels like an accurate one. I’m glad you felt that Dark Angels provided a safe space to go and explore aspects of your writing without fear of judgment. 

I always think that a testament to any kind of creative immersion is if it inspires us to write more freely. Have you managed to find time to write anything since you have returned?

Lucy to Gillian

Yes! And the freedom I’ve found has come from the constraints I learned on the course.  Particularly summarising what I’m trying to write in 12 words.  That really helps me get to the nub of the pieces I’ve written since.  Oh and I’ve just completed a prose sonnet (inspired by yours) that I’m submitting to a competition. So yes, definitely writing. Thank you.

Ed. note: Lucy’s prose sonnet, inspired by Gillian’s prose sonnet, was inspired by Jamie Jauncey’s prose sonnet, which was inspired by Richard Pelletier’s prose sonnet, which was inspired by Sherman Alexie’s utterly amazing prose sonnet, called Sonnet, with Bird. You can read it here —>