Mahsuda Snaith – From Secret Writer to Arvon Tutor

Moniack Mhor 2003:  I am a young, Asian student from an inner-city council estate who writes mostly in secret.  I have finished one novel but have no idea what to do with it so have stuck it in a metal box-folder.  Attending an Arvon residential seems like a fantastical dream yet me and a writing friend scrimp and save to make the dream a reality.  We travel from Leicester to Inverness by coach (by coach!) and enter the rolling hills of Scotland. I have never seen so much heather. I am surrounded by writers and slowly let my secret out; I am a writer too.  I sit in stunning countryside, eat delicious food, write and write and write. We are tutored by James Kelman who teaches me an invaluable lesson; ‘Just do the bloody writing.’

Lumb Bank 2013: I am part of a group called ‘Inscribe Writers’ which supports Black and Asian authors.  They secure a grant which means we can attend the course at a massively reduced price. I get to Hebden Bridge via train and watch as the landscape turns from concrete grey to forest green.  When at Lumb Bank I work on feedback about the novel I am working on –the one I stuck in a box-folder way back when. I talk to writers about writing and learn the power of ‘free writing’, without judgement or editing, just letting the writing flow.  I sit in stunning countryside, eat delicious food, write and write and write.

The Hurst 2015: Since attending my previous Arvon course I have won an international short story competition, gained an agent for my novel and lost an agent for my novel.  This particular Arvon residential comes as part of a prize for winning the SI Leeds Prize for unpublished fiction. The fiction in question is the box-folder novel, still unpublished.  I sit in stunning countryside, eat delicious food…but I do not write so much. Without an agent I feel dejected, a little like perhaps my novel will remain in unpublished purgatory. But then something happens.  In group sessions I gain new insights about my work, in breaks I talk to writers about what writing means to them, I wonder through the woods, I read the books filling the corridor shelves. Slowly, I am revived.   

Lumb Bank 2017:  I am not a resident this time but a guest speaker.  After the last Arvon I’ve got a new agent, worked on the novel and secured a book deal.  The box-folder novel is now published and Lumb Bank has asked me to come and speak to their fiction writers.  I meet the course tutors who are lovely, I meet the writers who are also lovely. Then I sit in front of them all and feel like I am about to be pounced on by lions.  I am not a proper writer and they are about to find me out. I stumble through a pre-rehearsed speech then open up to questions. I relax; I’ve always loved talking about writing.  I chat with the residents until midnight. By morning, I don’t want to leave.

The Hurst 2018: I am a guest speaker again, this time at the Hurst.  I arrive early and go for a walk, the memories of 2015 washing over me as water washes over stones in the woods.  When I speak in front of the group I am happy and confident. I am a proper writer and have, I realise, been a proper writer since the moment I put pen to paper.   The only difference now is I have more things to say, not just about writing but about the publishing industry too. I don’t want to fill the residents with despair (there’s already enough of that when you’re a writer) I want to give them hope.  If I can do it, a past resident who sat on the very sofas they sit on now, so can they.

Totleigh Barton (the near-future): After working with inner-city school pupils, I am asked by First Story to lead a residential week at Totleigh Barton.  This is the only Arvon retreat I have not visited and it seems apt that my Arvon journey will come full-circle here, where the first Arvon centre began.  Perhaps there will be an inner-city kid who writes in secret amongst the group. Perhaps they don’t realise this makes them a writer. Perhaps I will teach them that it does.  What I will make sure to tell them is this; just do the bloody writing. After all, it’s the writing that will get you through in the end.
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#Arvon50
Arvon is 50 this year and to celebrate we have collected the stories of writers far and wide who have a tale to tell about Arvon. The collection will be published in our anniversary booklet and featured on our blog throughout the year. The following piece is by author Mahsuda Snaith.