Gillie Bolton

Reflective Writing for Practitioners

Facilitated by Gillie Bolton

Leiston Abbey, Aldeburgh, Suffolk

Annually

• Download the flyer for this course here (in pdf format - you can get the free Acrobat Reader software here if you need it)

So what's this course all about? - Dr Lucy Henshall

As a second-time attendee of this fantastic Heineken of a weekend of writing, reflection, and generally good company, what did it do for me? Perhaps this short piece illustrates - written in 6 minutes (the time our tutor Gillie Bolton gave us for many of the "exercises"). The task was to describe in a letter to someone not at the course, what it was all about..

I wrote to a friend (and ex-practice nurse in my husbands' surgery who almost came herself.)

Dear Lynne
Again the chemistry was incredible. Fourteen doctors for barely 36 hours producing such pictures, such music, and gaining so much personal insight and comfort from the sharing of our writing.

Enriching, invigorating and extraordinary.

None of us "writers" in fact - or so we thought beforehand, but learning, trusting our facilitator that the pen would do it for us was again proved to be true.
We all have stories and memories locked away somewhere inside and this course provides the key to unlock that rich treasure chest.

It felt safe, and good, and right to revisit often suppressed memories or experiences and, rather than deny them, to acknowledge and develop them, even to enjoy them.

And then to suddenly realise their importance and relevance to the here and now, both professionally and at times personally.

These oft forgotten episodes in our lives offer food for thought, and revisiting them can be a catalyst for change, for increasing self-confidence to "just do it" - not worrying what "it" is - you'll find out along the way.

I felt like a bird let out of the aviary to fly, and flap my wings, displaying all their true colours without fear of judgement or criticism. To see the earth from wherever I chose to settle - perhaps fleetingly on a branch to view across that bough, but sometimes from high up in the sky to see the whole picture from another angle.

And each flight was unique - with no 'rights' or 'wrongs'- a journey of discovery and enlightenment.

And even when I return to the aviary of everyday life again I will recall the beauty of that flight and what I have seen.

You should try flying too.

Love to all
Lucy

Abbey Magic

or ?Ode to Gillie?

What happens here?
Each November, once a year,
A group of us meet and write
And often talk late into the night
Of favourite things and the treasured past,
Of stories that leave us amazed and aghast,
At how simply we think and how rarely we share
The feelings that prove that we really care.

What happens here?
Is it the air round the ancient walls
Of The Abbey ruins when nightime falls?
That brings a special magic spell
But to guide us we need Gillie as well.
She leads us on a journey of life
Of love and health and illness and strife
By expertly helping us write our tales
And scribble on paper in mounting bales.

What happens here?
How do we unlock the hidden thought?
And write and share without ?I ought?
No effort involved to connect and bond,
And with her invisible magic wand
She helps it happen time and time again.
Here, a loss can become a beautiful gain
As new insight into life appears
I hope she?ll come back for years and years.

 

Lucy Henshall
Leiston Abbey Nov 2004
Royal College of General Practitioners Writing Weekend
Written early Sunday morning as the mist cleared??

The sorrowing road

And we travel a sorrowing road,
Pilgrims together,
Though I did not know you at the start,
And I may not see you at the end;
For now we both are clothed with the dust
Of this red and ancient earth.

We walk together
Beneath a sky
Stretched drum-skin tight,
And you show me your paths,
And teach me your songs;
And I see in your face
The shadows and bones
Of your memories.

And a mother's voice:
This boy, him sick
and not knowing. Hmn.
Him resting and not sleeping. Hmn.
Him living and not asking.
This boy, him dying and not knowing. Hmn.

And children that have lost
All that they might call their own ~
No family, or name, or age or home ~
Kick in the dirt which cakes their feet
And stains their shirts;
For this earth
Is their only inheritance.

This earth, which bleeds from the scars
Of the sorrowing road,
Where a skeleton tree on a scorched hill
Raises bone-thin fingers to the sky.

Jonathan Knight
February 1996
Lumasi Refugee Camp, Tanzania

The following is a review of a creative writing course I attended in November 2002

Shaun O'Connell GP

So often a PGEA courses turn into a bitter disappointment as someone lectures on detail irrelevant to general practice or uses such highbrow academic language, the meaning of which goes straight over the audience's head. None of this happened at the RCGP's East Anglia Faculty's Creative Writing Workshop.

I just missed the boat last year so was delighted to hear about it being run again this year. I, like many of the other participants, was pretty apprehensive about what it would be about. How much value would we get from it? Would it help us in our everyday practice and lives? Attending, for me, involved 14 hours of travelling so I must have had some inner faith about it. The advertising flyer said that it was an interactive and experiential workshop exploring the power of expressive and explorative writing to help us come face to face with ourselves and our experiences. It promised to deal with what we think, feel and remember, what is important to us, what hurts or gives us joy. I reckoned that so often these details lurk under the surface with lack of time preventing them from being explored or, sometimes, even consciously remembered. The venue sounded impressive, Leiston Abbey, Aldeburgh, a great retreat at least, so I wrote the cheque and started interrogating national rail enquiries.

 I arrived late on Friday night and was warmly welcomed by those already chatting over some wine and a buffet. As we got to know each other inevitably the conversation drifted towards medical politics. Not surprisingly waves of weariness crept over us all and we each peeled off to bed.

The following morning, despite dire forecasts the scene was perfect with clear blue skies, trees turning their autumnal orange and ducks quacking around the pond. It was the superb retreat I'd hoped for, a ruined abbey, now maintained by English Heritage and the home of Pro Corda, an educational charity that organises chamber music courses for young string players and pianists. Our accommodation block was built out of the abbey ruins themselves.

After a hearty breakfast more participants arrived and then the 20 of us split into four groups and 'got down to it'. Gillie Bolton ran the course. Soon to be a senior research fellow at Kings College London she has been working in the field of reflective writing for seventeen years, recently at Sheffield University in the Department of General Practice. She reminded me of an austere schoolmistress but she's far from austere. She was warm, encouraging and clearly instructive. We'd barely time to settle down before we were telling members of our small groups an important story, something from our past, recent or old. Not having any time to think made us just come out with things that really were important. Some told us about current pressures and others told us about events that had had major impacts on their lives. Many were personal, painful and intimate. It immediately gelled the group. Quite how or why we'd felt comfortable to tell such stories so quickly I don't know, but its something to do with the way Gillie gave us clear instruction and made the workshop feel safe. In fact she deliberately told us it wasn't a workshop, it was a 'playshop' and of course it was up to us to decide how much to tell.

About half of the participants had attended before. This was both encouraging and perhaps a little intimidating at first. Would they be accomplished writers by now? Many talked enthusiastically of the Saturday evening get together the year before. We had been primed to bring some booze, some poetry, an instrument or just some prose we liked to share. We'd had two hours before dinner to do some original writing as a practice and were invited to bring that.

A quick recce for some candles (and some more feint ruled) was well worth it. The weather had turned and as a tempest set in outside, we with a roaring fire, candle light and a grand piano had a fantastic ceilidh. To be honest, the thought of trying to pass the evening together filled me with some apprehension, but my doubts were totally without basis. The hidden talents colleagues have should never be underestimated. Away from the drudgery of delivering general practice we proved we can make great entertainment that doesn't revolve around a television. We had a great time with songs at the piano, poetry readings, both established and fresh from the pen, guitar and flute solos, passages from novels and a comedy sketch. The latter was mine, and I was really nervous about performing it but it went down well and afterwards people said nice things like 'get a column in the GP press'!

Sunday morning was again fabulous. Without a hangover the opportunity to run along previously unexplored country lanes and bridleways was just too good to pass up. Leiston Abbey isn't the sort of place you'll find a gym and pool so take your trainers or walking boots and you'll have time to fit in a little exercise too. East Anglia is great for running. The flat landscape means it is big sky country. Ones mood is automatically lifted just being outside in the morning air. Incredibly despite the previous night's rain I didn't even get wet feet!

Getting back to work the group split up to write pieces related to the work we'd done the previous day. Gillie suggested viewing the stories from different perspectives, from characters within, or even from inanimate objects within. I didn't hear the detail but one participant wrote from the perspective of a entrance gate observing those who passed through. I'm sure it worked well. Another told us about the family's recent life from the perspective of the youngest son brilliantly mixing his observation of serious major family events with seemingly trivial day to day questions. 'Miss Knowles told me off today mum when I was kissing Helen. Grandad's bad bits were burned weren't they mum and his good bits are in heaven now aren't they mum? What's for tea?!' and so on.

The whole weekend was quite cathartic. Sometimes it did hurt a bit but it was always thought provoking. Gillie encouraged us to use metaphors a lot, for example if describing someone we would have to say what animal they reminded us of and why, and if they were a piece of furniture what would they be, and why. This sounds a little weird out of the workshop but it's an exercise worth doing. Who has a partner who's a stubborn old bull, or one who's a energetic puppy always eager to do new things? Is your practice manager a hardwearing comfortable sofa on which you can leave your problems or are they a rickety chair which you doubt will hold together for much longer. See? It works!

Reflective writing is about truth. Telling what you did, thought and felt. TS Eliot described creative writing as 'a raid on the inarticulate'. Heaney said about it ' Usually you begin by dropping the bucket half way down the shaft and winding up a taking of air. You are missing the real thing until one day the chain draws unexpectedly tight and you have dipped into water that will continue to entice you back. You'll have broken the skin of the pool of yourself.' and that's what we all were trying to do. It requires honesty, precision and accuracy but such essentials come from trusting your pen to tell the truth, so sit down and write. We had to spend six minutes clearing our mind by writing whatever came into our heads and then spending longer concentrating on something potentially bigger. The first six-minute exercise was surprisingly powerful. Our initial jottings were often raw, surprisingly honest and personal. Being able to share such thoughts with peers was a vital element of the process. We were quickly totally trusting in the confidentiality of the group. This removed inhibitions to writing about what really mattered.

As ever with such courses we came away with a list of new novels, books of poems and textbooks we had to read. I guess it'll take me a lengthy while to get through them all but hey, I've made a start and it's been great. We've said we'll keep in touch and I hope I see some of them next year.

Sean O'Connell
web.onetel.net.uk/~bhoona/creative%20writing.htm
www. coughsandsneezes.com