One Step Beyond
Cover by Anthony Hughes
A reprint anthology created and edited by Vaughan Stanger and published by Tower of Chaos Press to raise funds for the English PEN charity.
Contents
'A Mirror to Life' by Jaine Fenn
'Alyssa and the Robin' by Mike Lewis
'Time to Play' by Vaughan Stanger
'The Elusive Camel' by Alys Sterling
'Click' by Mark Bilsborough
'Patterns' by Susan Oke
'All of Me' by Liz Holliday
'Introduction to Joyous Cooking, 200th Anniversary Edition' by Heather Lindsley
History
1st edition was published November 2016.
Foreword by Liz Holliday
Back in 1997, I was one of the people running the Milford SF Writers’ Conference, which is for professional writers. These days, Milford is thriving – there’s a waiting list every year, as I understand it. Back then, it was struggling a bit: it was hard to find enough writers to make it viable.
I was also in the middle of launching Odyssey, a semi-professional science fiction and fantasy magazine. I absolutely loved editing – I loved finding good stories in the slush pile, and working with newer writers to make their stories better. I wanted a way to do more of that, and do it faster – if only so there were more writers available to come to Milford!
And I had been to Clarion in 1989. It was very clear to me that I didn’t have the resources to start a British or European version of Clarion . . . but I hit on the idea of a one week residential workshop.
I already had the perfect location – The Bowden Close Hotel, near Torquay in Devon, then home to Milford. Next, I needed a name. I was sick of gurus and teachers and writing programmes offering the world in return for huge amounts of money. I reckoned all I could expect to do in a week was help people move on a little bit. Thus, ‘One Step Beyond’ became both the name and the USP of the workshop.
So, in the autumn of 1998, I turned up at the Bowden Close with my laptop on my shoulder and a pair of extraordinarily cute kittens in a travel basket. And so did seven eager writers.
I had a plan for the week, combining the best of Milford and Clarion. I’d asked them all to read the novel Brother Termite, by Patricia Anthony, just so I’d know we had one existing text in common. In the morning, I’d talk about some aspect of writing (viewpoint, for instance, or world building), using Brother Termite as an example. Then we’d have a break, and after that we’d critique a story one of the group had written. At some point, I’d set an exercise or two to solidify what we’d discussed. In the afternoon, they’d work on those and their own writing; I’d also nab them one at a time to talk about their work – strengths, weaknesses, what to do next. The evenings would be social events, because one of my hopes was that they’d bond and stay in contact after the workshop.
It worked. Sort of. For one thing, they pretty much all hated Brother Termite as much as I’d loved it, so I gave up referencing it (that was fine – they were a well-read bunch and we found other works in common).
But mostly, they proceeded to run me ragged, frankly. I say that in the nicest way possible, but there was no stopping them.
The details have blurred over time, thank heaven. Mostly, I remember talking to them a LOT more than I ever intended, because they simply wouldn’t let me stop! I remember the chaos my kittens, Tia and Kai, occasionally caused. (I know for sure that certain people sometimes paid more attention to them than to me while I was talking! But in the kits’ defence, they also broke the tension a bit during the critiquing sessions.) I remember how hard the Hills – the couple who ran the Bowden Close – worked to give us everything we needed, including allowing me to plug in my modem (remember those?) to their office phone, and to use their printer. I know I planned silly parlour games for the evenings (then a popular feature of Milford) but that these quite often went west because my lovely students wanted me to talk more about writing! I also have a vague recollection of suggesting a sightseeing trip one afternoon – then a regular feature of Milford – and being voted down in favour of more writing time, though I might be misremembering! And I recall I set a limerick competition on the last day, with a prize that was worth ‘millions of pounds, or one pound, or nothing at all’ (it was a lottery ticket, and that phrasing was inspired by Joe Haldeman’s story ‘A Tangled Web’), which Sion won . . .
Fast forward to 2015 . . . and I got my wish. Several of the One Step Beyond participants ended up going to Milford. Some still do. But I got far more than I could have ever hoped. Most of them have gone on to publish professionally. Better than that, some of them started a writers’ group that continues to this day – and it has expanded to include several other very fine writers. (They even let me join, though these days I’m concentrating more on trying to break into screenwriting and very rarely make it.)
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat, if enough people wanted me to (though I no longer have quite the same cachet since I’m not editing a magazine any more . . . though I’d do that again in a heartbeat too, if I could find a way of funding it). All I need is a venue. And some eager going-to-be writers willing to run me ragged . . .
Contents
'A Mirror to Life' by Jaine Fenn
'Alyssa and the Robin' by Mike Lewis
'Time to Play' by Vaughan Stanger
'The Elusive Camel' by Alys Sterling
'Click' by Mark Bilsborough
'Patterns' by Susan Oke
'All of Me' by Liz Holliday
'Introduction to Joyous Cooking, 200th Anniversary Edition' by Heather Lindsley
History
1st edition was published November 2016.
Foreword by Liz Holliday
Back in 1997, I was one of the people running the Milford SF Writers’ Conference, which is for professional writers. These days, Milford is thriving – there’s a waiting list every year, as I understand it. Back then, it was struggling a bit: it was hard to find enough writers to make it viable.
I was also in the middle of launching Odyssey, a semi-professional science fiction and fantasy magazine. I absolutely loved editing – I loved finding good stories in the slush pile, and working with newer writers to make their stories better. I wanted a way to do more of that, and do it faster – if only so there were more writers available to come to Milford!
And I had been to Clarion in 1989. It was very clear to me that I didn’t have the resources to start a British or European version of Clarion . . . but I hit on the idea of a one week residential workshop.
I already had the perfect location – The Bowden Close Hotel, near Torquay in Devon, then home to Milford. Next, I needed a name. I was sick of gurus and teachers and writing programmes offering the world in return for huge amounts of money. I reckoned all I could expect to do in a week was help people move on a little bit. Thus, ‘One Step Beyond’ became both the name and the USP of the workshop.
So, in the autumn of 1998, I turned up at the Bowden Close with my laptop on my shoulder and a pair of extraordinarily cute kittens in a travel basket. And so did seven eager writers.
I had a plan for the week, combining the best of Milford and Clarion. I’d asked them all to read the novel Brother Termite, by Patricia Anthony, just so I’d know we had one existing text in common. In the morning, I’d talk about some aspect of writing (viewpoint, for instance, or world building), using Brother Termite as an example. Then we’d have a break, and after that we’d critique a story one of the group had written. At some point, I’d set an exercise or two to solidify what we’d discussed. In the afternoon, they’d work on those and their own writing; I’d also nab them one at a time to talk about their work – strengths, weaknesses, what to do next. The evenings would be social events, because one of my hopes was that they’d bond and stay in contact after the workshop.
It worked. Sort of. For one thing, they pretty much all hated Brother Termite as much as I’d loved it, so I gave up referencing it (that was fine – they were a well-read bunch and we found other works in common).
But mostly, they proceeded to run me ragged, frankly. I say that in the nicest way possible, but there was no stopping them.
The details have blurred over time, thank heaven. Mostly, I remember talking to them a LOT more than I ever intended, because they simply wouldn’t let me stop! I remember the chaos my kittens, Tia and Kai, occasionally caused. (I know for sure that certain people sometimes paid more attention to them than to me while I was talking! But in the kits’ defence, they also broke the tension a bit during the critiquing sessions.) I remember how hard the Hills – the couple who ran the Bowden Close – worked to give us everything we needed, including allowing me to plug in my modem (remember those?) to their office phone, and to use their printer. I know I planned silly parlour games for the evenings (then a popular feature of Milford) but that these quite often went west because my lovely students wanted me to talk more about writing! I also have a vague recollection of suggesting a sightseeing trip one afternoon – then a regular feature of Milford – and being voted down in favour of more writing time, though I might be misremembering! And I recall I set a limerick competition on the last day, with a prize that was worth ‘millions of pounds, or one pound, or nothing at all’ (it was a lottery ticket, and that phrasing was inspired by Joe Haldeman’s story ‘A Tangled Web’), which Sion won . . .
Fast forward to 2015 . . . and I got my wish. Several of the One Step Beyond participants ended up going to Milford. Some still do. But I got far more than I could have ever hoped. Most of them have gone on to publish professionally. Better than that, some of them started a writers’ group that continues to this day – and it has expanded to include several other very fine writers. (They even let me join, though these days I’m concentrating more on trying to break into screenwriting and very rarely make it.)
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat, if enough people wanted me to (though I no longer have quite the same cachet since I’m not editing a magazine any more . . . though I’d do that again in a heartbeat too, if I could find a way of funding it). All I need is a venue. And some eager going-to-be writers willing to run me ragged . . .
