young writers

Picture this: I’m on a train from Glastonbury to Oxford. Having been away for a few months, I’m finally heading home. I have no contract on a house – no roof over my head to return to – though, somehow, things don’t seem daunting. I’m heading home.

Isn’t it strange how a place can feel like home, even when you’re not necessarily returning to a bed in a room with material possessions? A few weeks ago, I was sitting on that train with a bursting-at-the-seams suitcase and a backpack twice the size of me, knowing that I’d spend the next few weeks on the floors and sofas of my friends. Even though the concept of being without a physical home was, at times, terrifying, I was so ready to be back in the city I love, surrounded by friends that feel like family.

It’s safe to say, I’ve been thinking a lot about my own concept of ‘home’ recently.

I suppose, for the last few years, physical ‘homes’ have always felt quite temporary to me. I mean, I lived in a tent for a little while – one of my favourite homes so far – but I always knew that it couldn’t last forever. It was a great few months, whilst the weather was good and our jobs permitted us to travel, but then it ended. After a rocky transitioning period of maybe-living-in-a-caravan and maybe-ending-up-sleeping-above-a-pub-in-Witney, we finally found our little studio flat. Even then, though, Beth and I shared such a small space, and I stayed on a pull-out bed on the floor; that home, too, felt temporary.

Maybe that’s how physical homes always feel, though? I’ve always been a little jealous of friends that still have parents that live in their childhood homes, because that idea feels a little more solid to me. A little more permanent. I had one main childhood home, but from the age of fourteen, we moved house a bit – always in the same village, but still different houses. When I moved to university, my family grew with my mum’s new partner and his daughter, and they rented a few different places before buying the house they now live in. Sometimes, I’d go home for Christmas to a house that I hadn’t even seen before.

Yet still, when I say I’m going back to see my family, even though I’ve only been to their new house a handful of times, I say I’m going home. Because home is not a physical place for me. It never has been.

If I’m heading back to the North to see my family, I’ll always be going home. I have connections to every village neighboring the one where my family now live: school days in Chorley, sixth form and nights out in Wigan, day trips to Manchester, iced coffee on park benches in Bolton… When I head back to Bath – the city that I lived in for four-and-a-bit years – I say I’m going home. Of course I am, because there are still people I love there. Maybe if I go back to Glastonbury next festival season, that will feel like going home, too – because of the people I met and the connections I made there.

Bunkabin living: a metal box in a field that my sister made cute and cosy for us

Edinburgh is a city I’ve always been to alone; a city where I finished my first book and found so much of myself in the cobbled stone streets and teetering stacks of well-read books. It will always feel like home, maybe not because of the friends I made there, but because of the characters I created, the scenes I painted, and the conversations I wrote whilst travelling on my own.

Maybe I’m fortunate enough to have left pieces of my heart in cities all over the world.

So, here I am. Back in Oxford. I’m home. I’ve been sofa surfing with some wonderful friends for a few weeks, and I’ve finally found my own flat. It’s a one bedroom apartment in a building due to be demolished (not in the near future, don’t worry), so I’ll be a property guardian, which essentially means the rent is cheap and they can give me a month’s notice -as can I with them. It also means I have to commit to 16 hours of volunteering a month, something I’ve been wanting to do for a while anyway, and I can decorate however I like.

It’ll be the first time I’ve ever lived alone, and the first time I’ll have the freedom to paint and decorate and furnish my own place. I can’t invest too much time or money into it, because I could be given my months notice at any time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make it my own. It will be temporary, like all of my other homes so far, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the time I have in it. I can make it cosy and unique and a place where I can relax and write and grab a few hours of peace at the end of a long day.

I’m slowly learning that just because things are temporary, it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy them.

Another example of something temporary but wonderful: a two-week creative writing course I led with these talented young writers

If I’m only in this flat for a few months, that’s fine. It’s impermanent, but still special. Time will pass and things will change and I will still have a home. I will still always have a home, because I don’t just have one.

My homes are in the company of those I love, scattered across cities where I lived and loved and left and came back.

Home is where the heart is – and my heart is, truly, all over the place.

Young writer Charlotte Rhodes talks to us about where she finds inspiration, her own writing process, and her brand new blog, Teacup Chapters.

Firstly, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself and your writing?

I’ve loved stories for as long as I can remember, whether that’s reading them, making them up in my head, or actually writing them on paper. I always knew that writing was something that I wanted to pursue, so that’s what led me to my current degree in English Language with Creative Writing.

My writing style has changed slightly over the years, but my intentions have always been the same – to uplift the reader in some way and hopefully make them smile! Reality has a habit of being grey sometimes, so if we’re given the opportunity to create brand new material, why not make it positive?

I do of course, for realism purposes, touch on sad topics too, but when I do I try to end on a positive note as a reminder that there is always a sliver of hope to hold onto, no matter how small.

What was the last book you read that you really loved?

All Our Wrong Todays by Elan Mastai. I picked it up on a whim when I was using Waterstone’s as an escape from uni stress (the best way to select a book), and it exceeded all of the expectations that I never had. It’s set in the future and is essentially about time travel, which was completely new reading territory for me. I was wary that it might be far-fetched or unrealistic, but I can honestly say that it is written so beautifully and flawlessly that every word is believable.

Can you describe your writing routines and how you find inspiration?

The best inspiration usually comes when I’m not looking for it. And it can come from anywhere. You know when you watch a film and there’s a minor character in it who’s just brilliant and you kind of wish you got to see more of them and how their story pans out? Or they hint at a storyline but you don’t actually get to see it happen? I might take these seedlings of ideas and turn them into their own story. Or it could also be as simple as a stranger who gives me inspiration for a character, a name that I overhear, or maybe I see a kite in the sky and decide to use it as a symbol in a story.

Ideas usually start as a cluster of words, (I use Google Docs on my phone to jot them down), and I slowly develop these into a loose plot outline and eventually a piece of writing.

Reading also plays a huge part, particularly if I’m lacking the motivation to actually begin a piece. I can spend hours reading, usually material from the same genre that I’m writing in, (e.g. articles if I’m doing a blog post). Watching films/TV shows about writers can also give me a boost to start writing. It sounds like procrastination but I consider it research.

Where do you feel most inspired?

I like to be somewhere with a window. My flat at uni last year was the perfect spot because my desk was right under the window overlooking a lovely canal. If I got a bit lost with a sentence or couldn’t find a phrase then I’d just sit and watch the trees and the water for a while. Sometimes I’d open the window too so that I could hear the birds and the leaves rustling – it was the perfect set-up.

What piece of advice would you give to other young aspiring writers?

Don’t worry about making your writing too ‘ordinary’. I can get struck with some pretty random ideas, and I used to fight them off for fear of people not understanding or thinking that I’m weird, but it turns out that they can make for great stories. I once wrote a love story about a clown and it developed into one of my better pieces. If you get an idea that you think is a bit odd – run with it. If anything, it will keep people intrigued.

Finally; you’ve recently set up a blog and I just loved your post How to be alone without being lonely. Could you tell me a bit about the blog and how you’ve found the process of starting it?

The blog is very new so I am still getting the hang of things, but it’s something that I’ve been wanting to set up for the past year or so. I was waiting for the right time, the right name, the right content, but this summer I decided to just set the plan in motion!

Choosing the name was the most gruelling process, but everything else seemed to click into place after. I had already written a couple of articles for Society 19, so that somewhat prepared me, and I knew that I wanted my blog to be quite a positive space to share my creativity, so I took that idea and went with it!

A big thanks to Charlotte for this wonderful interview – she really is a young writer to keep an eye on! Head over to Charlotte’s blog Teacup Chapters and have a little explore, you won’t regret it.

Quills and Coffee

where the heart is: re-imagining the concept of home

Interviews with Aspiring Writers: Charlotte Rhodes