Private and Public by Sheena Wilkinson

What’s your typical day as a writer? is a question I’m often asked. And I always reply that there’s no such thing. Some days are spent dashing from school to school, or sighing at delays and eating rubbish in airports; others are spent peacefully at my desk with occasional forays into the outside world for exercise and sanity. When I’m travelling and doing events I crave solitude and peace; when I haven’t spoken to a human for two days I itch for company. 

The last two weeks illustrate the contrasts inherent in this life. I’ve just spent two weeks at The Hurst, Arvon’s Shropshire centre. It’s the longest I have been away from home for well over a decade, but I haven’t spent two weeks doing the same thing. It’s been a fortnight of two halves. 

The first week I spend at the Clockhouse, Arvon’s designated writing retreat in the grounds of the Hurst. I have my own three-roomed apartment, and share a kitchen and living room with three other writers, all strangers. It’s the ultimate retreat – apart from a little chat in the kitchen, and one walk in the company of a lovely graphic novelist/picture-book writer, I spend every moment alone apart from my characters. Alone with my novel inside my head. Alone on long walks through the miles of forest trails which radiate from the Hurst. The evenings are solitary, and sometimes a little long. Having worked all day, I’m too tired for more editing, yet too wired to sit down with a book. Still, it’s a marvellous week and it feeds the introvert writer in me. I leave with my work-in-progress nearly ready to send to my publisher, and a new novel roughly outlined. It's April but we have two days of heavy snow and then rain. 

Not a black and white photo: April snow in Shropshire last week 

On Monday I pack my bags and move up the lane to the big house. The rain gives way to spring sunshine. I leave my manuscript in my bag and take out my teaching notes and my resources. I doff my introvert-writer hat and don my Arvon tutor hat. I meet my co-tutor Anthony McGowan and we put the finishing touches to the course we’ve been planning over email and phone. By dinner-time they’ve all arrived – twelve aspiring YA writers, all at different stages of their projects. All lively and lovely and eager to write and talk. The dining room chimes with accents from all over England, Ireland and the United States. Days are long and busy, exhilarating and exhausting.  I teach; I join in with Anthony’s workshops; I meet students for one-to-one tutorials; I chat about writing over dinner; in the evenings there are readings from me and Anthony, from a guest writer and of course from the students. I still find time to walk in the woods every afternoon – luckily it’s light now until after dinnertime – but most of the time is spent being very much ‘on’. 

Up to the big house 

I love Arvon, and have often written about it for this blog. Over the last two weeks it’s reminded me of how strange the writing life is – with its sharp contrasts between the private and the public, the retreating and the meeting. 

Next week, back to real life.