so the process of asking for money from the govt to write has begun. am I a leech on the side of the taxpaying public, or a legitimate culture worker? do I deserver $10,000 to noodle about in my underwear drinking coffee and scribbling one-line ideas in a notebook? (and, I have to say, subsequently retyping 3000-word handwritten documents with the resulting headache).

who knows. but I'll ask anyway. the info session last night and meeting this morning was moderately useful, ie I wasn't sorry I went. but I've had my first brush with fellow-writer bitchiness.

I went into the room where the sessions were being held, on time; the officers were busy with the previous person. so I sat under a cooling fan and waited, having ridden like sting in 30 degree heat to be on time. a woman with bright red hair entered. ah, I thought, the other person booked in for 10 (there were two officers). so I motioned her in. when she realised I wasn't an officer but a fellow applicant, her face changed. she informed me I should have gone to the desk (at the writers centre), not come into the room. we were then moved by the well meaning writers centre staff to a hot, fan-less room. I felt I'd been uprooted. I was quite happy where I was, well across the room from the previous person and in no way eavesdropping. I sat near a bookcase; the redhaired woman made herself busy in the kitchen. awkward, I thought, so tried to be friendly. I said "If you tell me you're not applying as an emerging writer, then we're not competing" (meaning: and we can talk to each other). she stared at me and named her category. I misunderstood it. she listed the categories, all the while staying as far across the room as possible from me. I faltered at congratulating her on having at least one book out - you can see the vibe I was getting. I said, in a last ditch effort at breeziness, "well, we're not competing". and she said, like a schoolmarm. "It's not a competition." I was still feeling a bit speedy from my ride and I have a tendency to blurt, and sometimes people can mistake my emphatic amusement for something else, I think. anyway, the last words spoken in that room were mine: "it is a competition; 500 applicants for what, 100 grants?".
at which she found the kitchenette sink very interesting and spoke to me no more. was it my unseriousness? my lower-on-the-scale position than her, not having a book out? who knows. I suddenly discovered that the bookcase next to me was filled with Booker prize nominees. so I looked at one of those instead. instead of what? instead of saying: "Lighten up. I'm only trying to be sociable and chat. there is no need to put on the superior freeze attitude."
because to say that would have been a) rude and b) pointless - she had obviously made up her mind about me. sigh. if this is what I have to look forward to as I inevitably become Famous and a figure at Writing Events, I think I'll go the Salinger route...

shallow, vain and self-satisfied. but also slightly gleeful in that I'm in
this mag with a far more politically correct rant than the last one, and that my name is there as a "new writer" to discover reading it. I quite like this mag, and it's good to have got something in it. if only for the free copy. :)

I have re-read the blogposts about my article about creative writing courses, and continue to be bewildered at the assumption that I'm arrogant, rather than just excited to be finally writing, and grateful to have the chance. I know that some of the more conciliatory sections were cut out of the original article - about how brilliant some of my fellow students were, and how I don't know if I'm any good, I'm just enjoying doing it - but even so, it all seems a bit ad hominem. one woman in particular attacked me for mentioning that I snatch moments away from my son to scribble down ideas, and I wonder, if I were a man, would that even be an issue? so it's a bit sad that quite a few people now think I'm an arrogant bitch who says "I'm a writer and you're not", rather than getting my point: that writing is something that should come from the person, not from some imposed order. and also sad that few of them seemed to understand the slightly ironic and devils-advocate tone I wanted to hit. which is no doubt my fault.

and there was one very long analysis of whether high-school carpentry and by-the-numbers writing courses could be compared in metaphorical form. I'd say it made me giggle, but that could be seeen as scathing, so I won't.

meanwhile, contrary to my public declarations of being a driven writer, I am faffing about online. funny how with a deadline, I get on with non-essential things (such as work), but without one I find other things to do.

a few weeks back I had an article published on the relative value of writing courses, and the reasons people write, particularly why I (now) write.

I looked up the article to send to a friend who'd asked to see it, and came across a hotchpotch of criticism saying I was elitist, intellectual snob and possibly suffering from hypergraphia. it's too late and I'm too tired to link all the comments and I'm not sure I want to bring those people here. I did find one writing community that got it - that were both inspired to reaffirm their commitment to their writing, and to question why they were doing what they were doing, with positive results - but it seems that a combination of getting up people's noses and a certain amount of editing that took out some of the pointers to my own ambivalence has led to people thinking I'm a superior snob who believes I can write but no one else can, or should be taught to. I feel curiously unoffended by this, as I am quite sure it's not true. I can't write 1/10th as well as I'd like to. I sit in my classes green with envy of some of the wilder expressions and ideas dreamt up by other students. I am enrolled in a writing course for a reason ( and if that fact wasn't a pointer to irony and the salt shaker for those bloggers/commenters, nothing will be). so I just read these really quite personal attacks (one made a big deal of mocking the fact that I'd had cancer and that this had affected my motivation), and think "hmm, they've got the wrong end of the stick haven't they?". I'm not even sure why I'm blogging this: I think I'm more surprised by my not caring than I care, if you know what I mean.