Photo: Larry D. Moore CC BY-SA 4.0.
Margaret Atwood was born in 1939 in Ottawa, Canada. Since age 16, she knew she wanted to be a writer. She started out writing articles for her college’s literary journal, the ‘Acta Victoriana’ at Victoria College at University of Toronto. She graduated in 1961 with a Bachelor Degree in English and a minor in French and Philosophy. Her book of poetry, entitled ‘Double Persephone’, won the E.J. Pratt Medal. In 1962 she obtained her Master’s. From 1965 to 1985 she taught at a variety of universities. She has won the Arthur C. Clarke Award and Prince of Asturias Award in literature. An environmentalist and feminist, she also invented the LongPen. She has written novels, poetry collections, short story collections, ten non-fiction works, graphic novels, and television scripts. Her most famous work is “The Handmaid’s Tale”.
Some of her writing tips (as appeared in The Guardian) include:
- Take a pencil to write with on aeroplanes. Pens leak. But if the pencil breaks, you can’t sharpen it on the plane, because you can’t take knives with you. Therefore: take two pencils.
- If both pencils break, you can do a rough sharpening job with a nail file of the metal or glass type.
- Take something to write on. Paper is good. In a pinch, pieces of wood or your arm will do.
- If you’re using a computer, always safeguard new text with a memory stick.
- Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.
- Hold the reader’s attention. (This is likely to work better if you can hold your own.) But you don’t know who the reader is, so it’s like shooting fish with a slingshot in the dark. What fascinates A will bore the pants off B.
- You most likely need a thesaurus, a rudimentary grammar book, and a grip on reality. This latter means: there’s no free lunch. Writing is work. It’s also gambling. You don’t get a pension plan. Other people can help you a bit, but –essentially you’re on your own. Nobody is making you do this: you chose it, so don’t whine.
- You can never read your own book with the innocent anticipation that comes with that first delicious page of a new book, because you wrote the thing. You’ve been backstage. You’ve seen how the rabbits were smuggled into the hat. Therefore ask a reading friend or two to look at it before you give it to anyone in the publishing business. This friend should not be someone with whom you have a –romantic relationship, unless you want to break up.
- Don’t sit down in the middle of the woods. If you’re lost in the plot or blocked, retrace your steps to where you went wrong. Then take the other road. And/or change the person. Change the tense. Change the opening page.
- Prayer might work. Or reading something else. Or a constant visualization of the holy grail that is the finished, published version of your resplendent book.