Tuesday, 2 July 2013
The creative benefits of exercise have been well documented. Many writers have spoken of going for a walk when they are stuck or unsure of how best to express themselves. In the past I've been an ardent cyclist - jumping on my bike for an hour's spin around the fells at home to shake free that elusive thought. Wherever we find ourselves there's somewhere to walk - I like the sound of Will Self's current project of walking from his house to the different London airports...
After twenty or thirty minutes in the pool I'd climb out hungry. Not just my stomach empty, but brain washed of dreams and mind unanticipating the day. I don't ever count how many lengths I'm covering, instead I count strokes: eleven one way and eight 'downhill', back to the shallow end. A manageable repetition: short and simple before I turn and begin again at one.
It's more frog stroke than breast stroke, more breathing than swimming, more asleep than awake, a transitory zone that bridges bed and breakfast, in which more happens than I can possibly imagine. As with that pause before writing, this space before each workshop allows a consolidation of thought, a focusing of the theme of the workshop ahead and a bringing together of past reading experiences, past discussions and past writings that not only propel me slowly through the water but into an unboundried space for the workshop.
The groups at the French House Party are always a mixed bunch: novelists, memoirists, short story writers, experimentors and dabblers. So the more fluid I can be in terms of references, memory and silences, the better any group discussion will be. By better I mean more multi-voiced and stimulating for everyone there, including me. After all, I'm still learning too.