THE IRISH WRITERS' CENTRE

Over the past two months I have felt privileged to have access to the Irish Writers'Centre, and not just because of the strength of their coffee. For the last seven Tuesday evenings I have been part of Connor Kostick's group of people who are finishing their novels. Conor has been patient but demanding; who is our intended reading audience, where is the story going, how about this character, why is he in the story. Each week the first hour was studying some aspect of novel writing as dealt with in great literature; Pride and Prejudice, War and Peace, Heart of Darkness, and others.In the second hour half the group reads from work in progress and we discuss points raised. Once I got used to the Irish voices, (soft spoken and rapid) I was fascinated by the very high level of work presented. I am sorry I will not be in Dublin for the final three sessions because the stories are developing; last night I heard about a servant girl summoned home not knowing her young sister was to be married. That probably happened often in the days before universal literacy and postage. I heard the final chapter of a detective story, a clinical psychologist's report, and others read by people with madonna like faces and names like Clodagh and Nu sala and Maighred. I don't know if all this effort is because of the coming 'Novel Fair'planned for the centre on March 10th 2012, but they would all gain a high placing in any Novel Competition.
The concept of the novel fair is brilliant. A Novel Competition will close on November 11th and is designed to give 'novelists q chance to by pass the The terms and conditions of this opportunity are on the centre's website www.writerscentre.ie/novelfair.html. Oh how I wish I was sixty years younger and Irish by birth rather than ancestry.
As well as learning the structure of novels, I learned a great deal at Charlie Connelly's Travel Writing course, and met his wife, swapping reminiscences of the Blue Hotel in Methven.
Fridy afternoons is Ink Slingers, a group of writers who meet at the Centre under the inspiration of another angelic colleen who poses suggestions for us to write about. I am going to miss them all when I leave next week, even though I shall be with my old friends from the Poetry Kit list and of course I am looking forward to seeing them.

VIEW FROM THE THIRD FLOOR

THE IRISH WRITERS'CENTRE is a marvellous resource in Dublin. It is opposite the garden of remembrance in Parnell Square, next to the Irish Writers Museum. On the ground floor is the administration and a room where writers can sit, in really comfortable chairs, and drink the best coffee I have drunk since coming to Dublin, made by two leprechauns in disguise, Fergall and John. The bookshelves are lined with Irish Literature.
On the second floor is a meeting room where "A Twitter of Wit' a brilliant Pastiche from Irish comedies is performed several times a week by two actors.. Then on the top floor are the classrooms. I go there every Friday afternoon for 'INKSLINGERS' a creative writing group . I also climb those three flights on Tuesday evening when Conor Kostick teaches us about writing a novel. It's worth the climb every time.
The photograph was taken from the third floor window, and was of a very noisy, but disciplined anti abortion rally. We had to close the double glazed windows in order to hear Charlie Connolly deliver what we had paid to attend, a workshop on travel writing. Later, as I waited at the traffic lights for the procession to pass I thought back to the time when world news was aghast at the plight of 'X' fourteen years old, raped by her father's friend, stopped from going to England for a termination recommended by doctors and psychiatrists.
So last night I sat in the third floor room again. Each Tuesday five people in Conor's class read a thousand words they have previously distributed by e mail. Conor then asks questions, making us justify details of the plot, characterisation, use of metaphor. He is a tough teacher. One of the extracts last night told of a fourteen year old girl in a Catholic school whose teacher, a nun, tried to have her class discuss the question of 'X's' dilemma, It was brilliantly written,showing the teacher nun's embarrassment, the uncaring inattention of most of the class and the bigotry of a few.
Another writer's excerpt was the start of a mystery novel, and opened with a priest taking the last confession for the day. And to my surprise I discovered that most of the group were not practising catholics. They had only hazy notions of what went on during confession.
Interestinger and interestinger!