Creative writing school

You know the old saying; "Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. But teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a lifetime"? Well lately there's a new spin on that that goes: "Teach a man to phish and he'll get rich pretty damn quick."

Sadly, there's a lot of truth in that.

But I'm no fisherman. Or phisherman. I'm a professional writer, journalist and editor. I've made words my business. But there was a time when I had no trade at all. I couldn't build a house. Or fix an engine. Or throw a pot. Or plaster a wall. I was unskilled labour.

And then writing happened along. Creative writing. Commercial writing. It must have been in me all the time, of course; a latent skill awaiting the right moment to present itself.

That moment came when I needed a little extra cash and bumped into an old friend who explained that for some time he'd been writing for a magazine. I asked how difficult it was to get started, and he gave me a few pointers.

It didn't seem that hard, and it sounded like something I could do.

Maybe.

So I borrowed his typewriter and bashed out a one thousand word article for a magazine. It took a couple of hours or so, and it wasn't exactly literature. Nevertheless, it was intelligible and coherent, I send it off and went home and camped by the letterbox.

Two or three days later I received a reply telling me that they liked the article and were going to cross my palm with silver. £125 worth of silver.

This was nearly three decades ago, and £125 was a fair amount of money. It's not exactly peanuts now, and plenty of contemporary journalists are struggling to earn even that much per one thousand words—such is the decline in the value of British labour.

Since then, I've earned countless thousands of pounds writing articles for dozens of magazines and newspapers. I've published a few periodicals too, and have edited a handful.

I got lucky. With my first article, that is. I sold the next half dozen pieces in quick succession and haven't really looked back.

Writing lessons

Stupidly, it took me a while to realise that creative writing was my natural skill. Or, more broadly speaking, communicating was my natural skill. Writing is simply one of the many strands of communication (you should hear me when I'm on the phone in full tilt complaint mode). But once I did realise it, I did everything I could to capitalise on it, just as I would have done had I discovered that I could warble like Pavarotti or weave and spin like a politician.

In my experience, most people hoping to become published authors are not natural communicators or writers. I've got no figures to support my contention, but I suggest that out of a thousand individuals, only a handful really have the gift of the gab—although plenty more are pretty good bluffers and will get away with it for years without anyone noticing.

That's not to say that most of these people couldn't pen an article or even write a book. They probably could, but it isn't going to come easy (not that writing a book was ever easy).

Most people, given the right stimulus and pointers and a few hard-core lessons, could probably become reasonably good writers or journalists. It isn't as if it's a mystic art.

It's part talent, yes, but it's also part trick and part method. To be a good, workaday, jobbing writer, you need to be acquainted with a variety of rhetorical techniques that most people have never even considered.

Learn to write

Such skills used to be taught in British schools. Well, in some British schools. But the art of rhetoric is all but dead. Somewhere along the way it turned into "spin". These days, most human communication is dull, turgid, meaningless waffle. Hard talk, I know. But that's how it seems from over here. And writing meaningless waffle isn't going to get you anywhere. At least, nowhere far.

Sure, you can always find a freelance editor to clean up your article or manuscript. But that costs money, and you're supposed to be writing to make money for yourself, not for others.

For many writers, however, an editorial clean up is all that's needed; another pair of eyes watching out for your blind spots and jerking your lead in all the right places.

But many other writers need more than this. They need mentoring. They need a stronger leash. They need to be taken back to basics.

As a matter of course, when I'm editing manuscript installments (and I always work in installments), I try to advise clients on errors and weaknesses. Usually, my clients are pleased to hear my opinions. But by the time the next installment comes along, the same errors spring up, and I see that my advice wasn't heeded.

Why not?

Various reasons, I guess. Sometimes it takes a while for advice to sink in. And sometimes it might well be that my clients simply disagree.

Or don't care.

But often, I suspect that the advice came along when the recipient simply wasn't ready to hear it. Therefore it was wasted.

With mentoring, the conditions are different. Mentoring occurs because someone is actively looking for help and advice. Mentoring occurs when a writer has recognised his or her shortcomings and intends to do something about it.

These writers are hungry. They really want to get ahead. They want to learn how to fish properly, and not simply for the minnows. They want to get down to the shore and catch the really big stuff, and you're simply not going to be able to do that by being mediocre.

That's what my writing school is all about.

How does mentoring work?

Simple. You send me your manuscript—or, to begin with, a chapter or so, and I'll go through it with you and will show you exactly where you've gone wrong and how it can be sharpened.

I can do this online, through email. Or I can do this over the phone. Or I can even do this face-to-face—although this is usually less practical. And more expensive.

But whichever method you choose, I can make your writing better. I can show you where you're strong, and I can show you where you're weak.

None of it comes with a guarantee, mind, because there are no guarantees. It all depends on your own core skills—and I know exactly what mine are worth as I've been banking them for years.

For mentoring, I charge £20 per hour. Flat rate. You can buy as many hours as you like. Or as few. You can listen to what I have to say and take it on board. Or you can listen and throw it over the side. But you will learn and improve, provided you really do listen.

My writing school will change your writing considerably. It will change the way you think about writing. It will change the way you feel about it. It will open doors.

If you think mentoring is for you, email me and tell me what you need, or what you think you need. If I can't help—if I think you're just throwing your money away—I'll tell you straight (so get ready to duck).

But if I can see clear routes to improvement, I'll tell you that too. Alternately, you can struggle on forever making the same errors and falling into the same traps.

Meanwhile, check out the rest of the website and decide for yourself if I'm any use to you. If and when you're ready, come on down to the water and I'll show you how to bait a sentence, cast a decent paragraph, and hook something worth having.

In the meantime, keep writing.

Want to donate to this site?

If you've got anything worthwhile from Mr Edit and want to put something back, click the button below and make a donation. Two to three pounds/dollars/euros is plenty. Either way, keep writing and NEVER GIVE UP.

Creative writing

● Writing tips

● Plotting a novel

● Finding a literary agent

● Choosing a literary agent

● Agent query letters

● Inspiration for writers

● Rejection letters

● Manuscript critique

● 5 minute fiction fix

● Proof reading

● Writer's block

● Creative writing school

● How to get published

● Active & passive voice

Sample writing

Like to read a few examples of my style of writing? Check out the links below. If you like what you read, and have a manuscript of your own that needs a little help, email me. I'll do what I can.

Sample 1

Dirty Business

Murder and mayhem following an industrial pollution cover-up.

Sample 2

Cruising

A light hearted tale about a holiday venture, with a difference.

Sample 3

Exit Point

An aviator becomes embroiled in a terrorist murder plot.

Sample 4

The Grace of God

A tale of blackmail following a hit-and-run incident.

Sample 5

Exclusion Zone

A middle-aged man takes a couple of suitcase bombs onto a London underground train.

Special features

Darley Anderson, top UK literary agent, on books,
publishing and success

Zoë Sharp, creator of the

action-packed Charlie Fox series of books

Jeff Kleinman, New York literary agent, talks shop

Crème de la Crime:

An interview with

Lynne Patrick,

publisher and managing editor of a smaller—but

essential—British

publishing house.

Click the image above

to see more excerpts from
my novels. All feedback,  whether good, bad or indifferent, is welcomed and appreciated.

Mentoring tips

Editing skills

Try and find an editor whose work inspires you. Don't listen to to hyperbole. Ask to see some sample of the editor's writing skills. A couple of paragraphs won't do. Look for extensive examples, ideally in various styles. Don't be sucked in by flashy websites. Look for good content, and plenty of it.

Develop your own voice

Mentoring can take a little time to develop, so persevere. Listen to the advice of your editor/mentor—but use your own judgement too. Your own voice is important. You shouldn't allow your style to be subjugated to someone's else's. That isn't to say your style can't develop. Just don't allow yourself to be overwhelmed.

Pay by installments

Don't pay a large amount of money up front for a mentoring course. Instead, work out an installment deal. If you give the donkey all the carrots at once, he'll scoff them and won't run. Be smart.

Writing seminars

Mentoring, arguably, is better than attending a writer's seminar. Mentoring means one-to-one guidance, which is what most developing writer's need. Being one pair of ears in a crowded seminar hall is fine, as far as it goes. You'll no doubt learn a few tricks and techniques. And it might be fun. But in terms of cost-effectiveness, seminars are not the best way to make progress.

Back to the top