And that's how I got my start

You know when you watch award ceremonies and the grateful recipient gives their speech. Sometimes they cry, but mostly they list a whole slew of people without whom they would never have reached the very pinnacle of their profession. And quite right too. As Gertrude Stein once said, “Silent gratitude isn’t much use to anyone.”

This blog is my thank you speech. Don’t worry, I’m not going to cry, I’m not wearing Spanx and I promise not to go on and on until you nod off. Nor am I at the pinnacle of my profession. But you can see where I’m going with this.

Without ACW and its wonderful, generous, talented, funny members, I wonder where I would be. Not here, that’s for sure, in one of the happiest and most satisfying places I’ve ever been in my writing career. Reading Lucy Rycroft’s final blog for More Than Writers, “What ACW Means to Me” on 2^nd August rang a lot of bells. Sensitivity? Undoubtedly. Empathy? Yes! Encouragement? In spades. ACW is a very special group.

And yet I came to know about it in a roundabout way. Looking back, I can see the hand of our creative Creator God, gently putting me in the right place at the right time. One Sunday morning in early 2018, I was sitting in the green room at Radio Suffolk. I was there to talk about Stewardship’s Lent campaign, 40acts. It was about 5.30 and I wasn’t at my brightest.

A chap I vaguely recognised was sitting there too. “What are you talking about?” I enquired. “The rural church,” he replied. Somewhere at the back of my brain, a neuron fired. “Hang on, are you Tiffer Robinson?” Gentle reader, it was he.

I’d gone to a workshop on the rural church led by Tiffer at a brilliant Christian festival called Alive a few years back. I can still remember quite a lot of his talk now. It was fascinating. He asked me about my work and I gave him a brief rundown. “You should join ACW,” he said. “My wife’s on the committee.” I thanked him, did the interview, drove home and joined at once.

Back then, I thought of myself as a holy hack for hire. I wrote for several Christian charities which I loved, but secretly, I yearned to find an outlet for the enormous header tank of thoughts and dreams bubbling quietly away to themselves at the back of my brain. I couldn’t see any way this would ever happen, but I didn’t have the courage to name my childhood dream and follow it (“When I grow up, I’m going to be a writer”) so life continued much the same.

Supported by the lovely Mr Ruth who said he would hold the fort while I was away, I signed up for the Writers’ Day in Derby. It was only two and a half years ago, but I look back at the deliriously excited woman who got on the train northward with an indulgent smile. Genuinely, the thought of spending an entire day in a room with other writers who I’d never met filled me with joy. I had no idea where I was going, not a clue about who I would meet. It was bliss.

After a most pleasant evening spent at a hotel oft frequented by Sir Lenny Henry, I popped next door to a branch of a well-known chain of German supermarkets to buy my lunch. I spotted a container of crayfish salad which I thought would hit the spot. Then I found it had mango in it and back it went. I went for the plain option.

Arriving at the church where the day was to be held, I paused for a minute in the lobby. It felt like a pretty big moment, and so indeed it proved to be. The speakers were Claire Musters and Sam Hailes, who I had met before as we had both written for 40acts (Sam, that is, not Claire). Some people were setting up a book stall at the back on the right. Sam and Claire were in a huddle at the front, going through their notes. There was an indefinable sense of anticipation in the air.

I ambled over to the book stall. I can still remember my amazement at seeing so many books written by so many people I had yet to meet. I bought about eight, to the rapture of the lady running it. A small Scottish woman was laying stuff out and we struck up a conversation. We hit it off at once, to the extent that I accidentally nicked one of her books. Sorry, Wendy. But it did contribute to your golden crown as Scotland’s Most Stolen Author (and I paid you back eventually).

As the first speaker approached the mic, I plonked myself down next to a friendly-looking girl with curly hair. The morning was fascinating, with excellent talks by Claire and Sam. I learned about the inverted triangle, the three golden rules of submission and lots more. At lunch time, the curly-haired girl took out a container of crayfish and mango salad purchased from the self-same outlet as me. We laughed as I took out mine, minus the mango. She turned out to be the lovely Abby King.

I left feeling that I had started something significant, my bag weighed down with excellent books by ACW members. Since then, I’ve gone to a number of other Writers’ Days and loved each one. We just managed to sneak under the wire for the March 2020 one in Birmingham where I was offered a bed for the night by lovely Fran Hill (thanks Fran), who also helped me navigate my way through Blogger software. And I got to drink red wine while we were doing it. #winningatlife.

Next to me as I write, I’ve got a tottering pile of books including, “On Writing” by Stephen King, “How Not to Write a Novel” and “Save the Cat! Writes a Novel”. I wouldn’t have read any of these if it hadn’t been for ACW.

When I was asked to become a contributor to the MTW blog late last year, that header tank started to drain (and what a frightful metaphor that is!) I’m never short of something to write about, and that’s not because I am some kind of prodigy, but because I’m 54 years old and haven’t had an outlet for this kind of thing before.

Reading the MTW blog has taught me so much about faith and writing. It’s the most wonderful resource. I count many ACW members as friends, even though I may not even have met them yet. My bookshelves are studded with ACW books, like rare jewels in a coronet.

And now, I find myself with a contract with Instant Apostle, a real-life publishing house, who are going to publish my real-life novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge” around March next year. This still feels like a miracle to me and I hope that sense of joy and wonder never leaves me. The day I got the email from my agent, Tony Collins (Lord, how I love writing those words), I cycled to my parents for my daily visit shouting, “Thank you Jesus!” at the top of my voice. We live in the country. No-one heard – well, no-one except God and it was to Him that I was shouting.

Isabella would never have been invented by my busy little brain had it not been for the MTW blog where she first appeared in April this year. Your comments on that blog, "The Utter Joy of One's Craft" and May's one, "Open Brackets" are what prompted me to start writing her story. 

So, thank you ACW. Truly, you have been and continue to be the most amazing people. God bless you all, every one.

Images by Pixabay

Ruth is a freelance writer and novelist. She is married with three children, one husband, four budgies, six quail, eight chickens and a kitten. Her first novel, “The Diary of Isabella M Smugge” is coming out in March and she has another work in process. She writes for a number of small businesses and charities. Ruth is a recovering over-achiever who is now able to do the school run in her onesie most days. She has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life.