Literary festivals and strike action

A return to Paisley, a kick up the bum and some timely industrial action

It’s Sunday night. I’m studiously ignoring the multiscreening in the other room (watching Fantastic Beasts / playing Roblox / conducting back-to-back group video calls) as I’m happy in the kitchen with all the animals, the dregs of last night’s bottle of red wine and the soothing white noise of a clunking dehumidifier. Weekends that end like this - after the swimming, the gymnastics, the food shopping - equal bliss all round. And I’m refusing to allow parental guilt to creep in. They’re off for the majority of the next fortnight. I’ll be parenting a-plenty.

On Friday, I went back to Paisley. It’s been a while. I taught English in one of the town’s high schools for ten years, and while the chances of bumping into former pupils are ever-diminishing, the vague unease I remember from my morning commute as I again navigated the town’s ringroads and one-way systems was as strong as ever. I loved teaching. When it was going well, that is. When the class was on my side. When we were vibing. Sadly, though, it wasn’t always like that. In fact, those moments had become pitifully rare by the time I handed in my notice. Was it me? Them? Conditions? A confluence of all three? At least.

So my visit wasn’t without baggage. However, this time I was there with a different hat on. One that is still taking a bit of time to get used to.

Paisley Book Festival runs this year from the 16-19th Feb and on Friday they hosted three events for aspiring writers: getting an agent, getting published and marketing yourself as a writer. I was going along to support my agent, Robbie Guillory at Underline Literary, keen to soak up what he and another writer on his books, Joma West, had to say on the agent/writer relationship. There was a great deal that chimed with my own experience (agent as cheerleader, agent as therapist), and these sentiments were echoed by Caro Clarke at Portobello Literary and one of their writers, Andres N. Ordorica. Both Joma and Andres agreed that getting an agent meant they were free to focus on the writing and this gave me hope, working, as I am, on my second book in an attempt to get ahead of the system and avoid the horror of finishing to a deadline should my first - which is currently out on submission - be picked up.

Anyway, it was what came of a quick hello with a fellow writer at day’s end that saw me blow off my Friday afternoon plans. I’d been thus far sniffy about starting a blog. A writerly Instagram account. A website. Who’d really give a shit, and to what end? The generating of content just for self-promotion jarred with me. And yet. While the work of getting a manuscript seen by editors is down to the agent, the profile-raising, competition-entering and interest-generating falls to the writer, at least at the beginning. And so, feeling like I now ‘get’ it in a way I didn’t before, I’ve hastily set up a website. I’ve joined the Society of Authors. I’ve started a newsletter. One I hope will be read…! Because as it happens, I do think I have something to say. Stuff of the everyday. It might not be ‘big’ stuff or ‘book’ stuff, but it’s nice to have a place to allow the mind to wander a bit. Make connections. Even tail off into nothing. I wonder who’ll be with me for those posts?

The chance exchange was true in teaching, too. It wasn’t the presentation on an in-service day that made a difference to how you thought, but the throwaway stuff, for better or for worse. It might have been the experienced colleague offering gentle praise for some sensitive classroom management. Taking time to ask how you were getting on when passing in the corridor on a free period. Or, conversely, the third year boy who spat in my pregnancy-bloated face for keeping him back at the end of class.

For me, the final straw wasn’t pay. It was far more difficult to define. ‘Conditions’ is a word we hear in tandem when disputes around wages are raised, but I wonder whether teachers early on in their careers facing a cost of living crisis feel the trade-off is worth it. Support the strikes and the securing of a pay deal and implicitly support - at best - no change to working practices? It’s really hard in the classroom. From what I hear, it’s getting harder ever year. I support any action that seeks to make the job that bit more manageable, but wonder whether the EIS is not striking over the things that matter most. Respect. A realistic workload. The time needed to provide a wellbeing-first, holistic education for our wee people. Because we know they can only learn if they feel safe. Seen. Supported. And surprise, surprise; this is true for the teachers as well.

As I - along with the other families in targeted constituencies - face a fortnight of on/off home-schooling, I’m thinking about how those still in the job I couldn’t stick need all the help and encouragement they can get. I have left that Paisley school behind for a career where the worst that can - currently - come my way is another email in the publisher rejection thread. The stakes for them - and for our children - are far higher.