This Moment
Open Mic for Writers in Harrogate
You know those days when something is a bit of a slog: so much time spent, so little response? Those days when your mind drifts to an oasis of calm just beyond your fingertips, a hedonistic world in which you allow yourself to give up and do that sleeping thing which feels so appealing right now?
Then you remember why you wanted to do this thing.
I set up the Open Mic because of the paradox that is writers: we are story tellers and yet we spend so many hours tapping, or scribbling away on our own, sharing our missives only with, well, ourselves.
Often we workshop our stories with others. This is great. It’s not only useful, but I would say, essential. This may seem surprising, but workshopping is also good fun. Once you get beyond the ‘running down the street with no clothes on’ of having others dissect your words, it’s exciting – those lightbulb moments happening a-plenty.
But workshopping is not the same as sharing your story with an eager reader.
Workshopping is part of the process of making the story palpable. It’s like chopping the onions in preparation for people coming to supper – progress, yes, but are you ready for the guests to arrive? Goodness, no!
Stories are published in a myriad of arenas, and seeing your story published online, or holding a gorgeous copy in your hand? It doesn’t get much better than that.
(For a minute or two, anyway, until the angst creeps in: will anyone actually buy it, and then read it, and then, oh! The reviews…?!)
But even when that first seed of an idea hits the dizzy heights of becoming a draft, then an edited story and eventually a published one, it’s a long time before the writer gets their story in front of an audience.
So I set up an Open Mic in Harrogate to give writers an opportunity to do what they do best: share their story.
In my efforts to spread the word, I found this Open Mic Finder site. When I searched for Harrogate, this is what I saw:
It made me laugh, in a clever but sad kind of way, whilst reaffirming my view that we needed an Open Mic, whether musical or in our case, for the written word. I posted my Open Mic event and found that there was a heart-warming, Nice News story right there, on this site.
Alongside wishing I could make the huge donation required to cover the thousands of hours this guy has put into this public service. I wanted my Open Mic to be a success, if only for him to be able to slot something in that Thursday night box, and if only every two months 😉
I’d sent press releases, contacted local education centres, updated my website, flooded social media (sorry) added it to every possible piece of correspondence to my students (sorry, sorry) and former students (sorry, sorry, sorry). You get the drill.
People were often keen, but nervous. Many thought it was a great idea, but couldn’t make the date. Some just didn’t fancy it, I’m sure, that’s the nature of organising any event, of course. But what kept me going was that every person who did sign up, did so with such enthusiasm. It gave me renewed vigour. We could do this!
Seven days to go and things were looking better. Local writers popped up from many and varied places. Some trepidatious, all excited. I was starting to think that this might actually happen, that we’d have enough writers to make it worth their while coming, enough to entertain the audience, even if I didn’t expect the list to be full, certainly not for the first one.
And then, as of three hours before we ‘launched’, dear reader, the list was full! I was ecstatic.
Still, driving to the venue, watching the wipers flying back and forth on full intensity, the euphoria dipped. Would all the readers still come out in the torrential rain of a typical 2024 dark night in January? And what of the audience? The sofa and tv can seem oh, so appealing when the wind is howling and the rain tapping against the window, we all know that…
But writers, audience, come they did.
Delicious, a smallish but funky café just off the centre of Harrogate, was packed. I think Olivier, the fabulous owner, whose mission is not just to provide food and drink but an accessible, arty venue, where local people get the chance to display their paintings and other talented art forms, host writing classes (😊) learn to paint, play Scrabble – in French – even learn Tarot… was as surprised as I was.
It wasn’t the most professional set up. I’d borrowed a mic and amp. I mean, an Open Mic without a mic? Well, it’s just an ‘Open’ isn’t it? But I hadn’t thought about a stand. Ooops. Still my right biceps had a good workout. And I had two number fives in the order of readers, and no number six, which caused a little confusion. Ooops again. But nobody seemed to mind.
Everybody told their stories so well. The audience was rapt. Total silence during the readings, smattered with giggles in appropriate places, and huge applause at the end. We had a good mix of poetry, short stories and extracts from novels. Some writers were already published, others on their way – you know, all writers are ‘on their way to publication’, if that’s their goal, I firmly believe – but based on the applause, you couldn’t tell which was which. I say this in case you are wondering about taking part in a Writers’ Open Mic but that irksome and perennial Writers’ Imposter Syndrome is smacking you down. Banish it forthwith! If you have a story, any piece of writing you’d like to share, you are every bit as worthy as anyone else.
We had a little time at the end. Was there anybody else who’d like to read something? Despite some cajoling, nobody was biting until, a la final bid of an auction when the countdown has begun, a young poet raised a tentative hand and said she would like to read. She’d emailed earlier in the day asking if she could just* come as a member of the audience. She wanted to check it out, see if she’d have the confidence to read one of her poems next time. She came with a couple of friends and having spoken with them, I was struck with how supportive they were of her. It was very touching.
Her introduction was great: she’d been writing poems since she was a child, and had enough for an anthology. But then she added that she was absolutely petrified. I’ll be honest, I had to stop myself grabbing her hand to stop it shaking.
What happened next was an X-factor and Britain’s Got Talent moment all bound into one. Her poem was beautiful. The theme was ‘feeling’ and yes, you could ‘touch’ her imagery, so vivid, so evocative. I listened to her reading with passion and growing confidence. I saw the way the audience reacted, clocked her friends’ hands on their faces, so proud of her, and I watched the smile grow across her face as she noticed the reception her poem received, too.
And I thought: This! This moment. This is what it’s all about.
The slog was worth it.
An enormous thank you to everyone who read and supported, for bringing the stories and the buzz. Mission accomplished. Thank you. Bring on the next!
Oh This is such a lovely story, my glasses are misting up! Good on you, Jackie, for putting it all together. It sounds amazing, I only wish I lived closer to Harrogate. And now I will see every piece of new writing as chopping onions - with all the tears that brings too!
Wow, what a lovely story and brilliant idea. Well done Jackie! And to that nervous poet