Twenty one years ago. That’s the last time I experienced the strangeness that is a University interview. I can’t remember exactly how many I had – it’s either three or four, and all of them were odd in different ways. (My experience of Bradford – a seven-hour drive from Cornwall, only to find that the course I was interviewing for wasn’t exactly as the prospectus had advertised – is burnt into my brain, but for different reasons). For some reason, more out of habit than anything else, I still have the suit jacket I wore to that interview (complete with embarrassing post-Eighties shoulder-pads). One day, I really will give that thing away to charity.
Not today, though. Today I’m going for an interview at Manchester University, for a place on their MA course in Creative Writing. It’s an impressive course – I went to an open day last November, and that pretty much convinced me that this was something I need to do. I’m aiming to do the course part-time, for the next two years, as I’ve been thinking vaguely about the idea of doing some writing-related teaching for a while, and it’s time to actually do something about it.
Am I nervous? Of course I’m nervous. There’s plenty of confidence sloshing around inside my brain as well, but the nerves are jangling away, and they won’t stop until it’s all over and (aside from a bit of paperwork related to my application for funding) it’s out of my hands. I’m sure that once I sit down and start talking, everything’ll be fine – one thing I’ve never had is any problems talking about writing – and as long as I can give a good account of myself in the time that’s available, I’ll be happy.
The odd thing is that making this kind of deliberate choice isn’t something I’m used to. A big proportion of the big stuff that’s happened in my life – becoming a journalist, getting experience as a sub-editor, becoming a freelance manuscript reader, becoming a proofreader – were all down to simply being in the right place at the right time. People don’t always seem to believe me when I say that I stumbled into being a journalist by accident, but it’s true, and so it feels a bit odd to be in this situation and be wanting something as badly as this. Creative Writing teaching feels like something I can do – I just need help to get the occasional chaos in my brain pointing in the right direction. I’m hoping Manchester University is the right place to be doing this. And if it isn’t? Well, one thing I’ve learned over the years – no matter what happens, even if you don’t know it yet, there’s always a plan B…