Anyone who knows me, knows I have an addiction to learning. No matter how much we think we know, there is always more we can absorb and grow from. I once knew nothing about photography, but when I was gifted a camera for a long-ago birthday, I decided I wanted to learn how to use it properly. At that point in my life, I had neither the time nor money to invest in photography courses and workshops, so I set about learning everything I could myself in the pockets of free time I had.
I read books, watched videos, studied other photographers and their work, then practiced in any spare moment I had. It was hard. The visions I had in my head of the imagery I wanted to create was not what I was creating. It would have been easy to be disillusioned and give up—to listen to the voice in my head that said I’d never create an image someone else wanted to look at—but I didn’t. Instead, I searched for more books that would teach me, practiced in the few hours I had each day outside of my paying job, and learned as much as I could about the craft of photography.
Today, I work as a freelance photographer and have shot images for brands I could only ever have dreamed of. I am proud of the stories I create with my camera, yet still there is more to learn. There always will be.
Writing is the same. Some of us may be born with an inherent talent, but unfortunately, I was not. (Many) years ago, I remember an English teacher telling me I was the best writer he’d ever had in his class. If I’d have been smart then I would have interpreted that to mean what he probably meant by it, which was that if I worked hard, I might get somewhere with my writing, but as a naïve something-year-old, I took it literally. My teacher said I could write, so I could.
Years later, I would be lucky enough to find work as a writer and editor. In both England and Japan, I worked for recreational magazines produced for US troops serving overseas, and while I loved that job and all it taught me, it was not the same as writing my own novel.
I’ve wanted to write a novel since I was about eight. I can still remember the opening lines of a story I wrote when I watched a house across from ours take delivery of a roll of carpet. It was a suspense story, the genre I most love to read and write, and it involved an elderly lady watching a crime unfold. Sadly, I don’t have that story anymore, or that young mind, but what I do still have is the desire, the passion, the need to keep writing.
To write a novel I needed help. Not with discipline (I have lots of that in the guise of stubbornness), but with craft, just as I needed help to learn photography. I enrolled in writing course after writing course and studied with the Faber Academy, Curtis Brown, the Novelry, Kathy Fish, Tommy Dean and Nancy Stohlman. I also completed a mentorship with Gold Dust writers where I worked alongside the incredible Andrew Wilson.
All these courses and classes helped sculpt my writing into what it is today. (I plan on writing blog posts on each one for anyone wanting to know more about writing classes and courses). Yet still there is more to learn, there always will be.
Earlier this month I learned of a writing course being offered by Natalie Goldberg, author of Writing Down The Bones, a book that has been on my bookshelf for years. Natalie’s book was also recommended in several of the writing courses I have taken (if you don’t own it, buy it and read it over and over). I signed up. Natalie’s way of teaching (and inspiring) is unlike any other. She is, in my opinion, a quiet force in a noisy world—a soothing warm breeze in a raging storm—and I am loving everything about her and the way she teaches (details of her course will come in another blog post).
In the lesson I completed last night, Natalie said something so profound I am still thinking about it. She said: Continue under all circumstances. These four words not only apply to writing, but to life in general. And it is what I intend to do.
So, friends, the message behind this post is to keep writing, keep learning, keep on keeping on.
Thank you for reading,
Cat x