Mslexia

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Feature

FOLLOW THE MONEY

When it comes to the grant application process, it can feel like a jungle out there. But, as novelist Jill Dawson explains, there are funds available. Herewith, her tips, suggestions and sagacity.

Ever thought of applying for an Arts Council grant? Perhaps you think they’re only for well-known writers, or are simply impossible to get? Or maybe you’re at the other end of the scale – published, experienced – and think that Grants for the arts are only set up to support community projects such as writers’ residencies, or new writers working on a first novel? These are all common misconceptions. The reality of the situation is quite different.

Over the years, I’ve helped many writers apply to Grants for the Arts, and I’ve received awards myself. My last novel had so much research that I can’t imagine how I could have done it without one.

Weirdly, what I discovered as I was researching that novel was this: it was Rupert Brooke of all people – yes, yes, the WWI poet who did the constant ‘fresh boyish stunt’ (his words) of punting along the river Cam in Grantchester, Cambridge, and had a privileged Rugby background – who first proposed the idea of the state offering writers a bursary. Otherwise, Brooke argued, writers and artists would only come from the moneyed classes. He suggested, in a lecture he gave in 1910, that the sum of £250 a year would allow the artist or writer to work without worrying about earning an income for a time, and that a panel of 30 experts should help the government decide who should receive these awards. It was quite a few years before his friend John Maynard Keynes went on to develop that idea into what became the Arts Council, but Brooke’s idea remains such a fundamentally good one that I could kiss his photograph every time I remember it.

‘…if you are eligible, have a project worth funding, and the money is available, why shouldn’t you be the one to receive it?’

Now, I know the application process is hugely daunting. I looked at the website for the Arts Council of England as I was writing this article and saw that the application form – which the Arts Council claims is new and simplified – is 34 pages long – and that’s without the equally fat ‘How To’ booklet. Gulp. Similarly, the money comes out of Lottery funding so it has to show public benefit of some kind. But don’t panic: all this means is that you have to show that others will be able to read your work once it is produced.

After all, if you are eligible, have a project worth funding and the money is available, why shouldn’t you be the one to receive it? Yes, the application form can be tedious and time-consuming, but so are many aspects of a writer’s professional life – hands up anyone who likes filling in tax forms or sending ISBN numbers to their public lending rights online account? If you put serious time into a good application, then there are two possible outcomes: one is that you get the money – yippee! Two is that you don’t – but you’ve written an excellent proposal along the way, which, as well as identifying a plan of action for your work and crystallising your ambitions as a writer, means that you now have a beautifully-written synopsis, perfect for showing to agents or other potential grant-awarding bodies.

So, arm yourself with the best possible coffee, a calculator and a firm and optimistic disposition. If you have a ‘demonstrable track record’ (it might be enough to have been published in Mslexia, have won a short story competition or have an encouraging letter from an agent), and have a project – a novel, a collection of poems, a play, etc., for which you would like to be funded – start thinking of ways in which money from the Arts Council would help you with that project, and give yourself at least a day – or even more – to write a truly cracking application.

(I was horrified when a woman who had worked for four years on a novel, showed me the synopsis she sent with it to publishers – ‘I just dashed it off,’ she said. ‘How much respect do you have for writing, or for yourself?’ I wanted to ask. It was appallingly badly-written and didn’t do the novel justice.Your application should announce your professionalism, talent and seriousness in every line, with every word – don’t just ‘dash it off’ and then be surprised to have it returned with an unimpressed ‘No.’ Show, don’t tell, the person reading it that you’re a good writer by writing well).

Here’s how to have the best possible chance of success [NB: Regional Arts Councils all run things slightly differently, so check the individual websites for particular funding details]:

1. Make sure you are eligible.

Don’t waste your time – or the Arts Council’s. Students on university MA courses in writing, for instance, are not eligible (apply when your course is finished). Don’t apply retrospectively for something you’ve completed and have no intention of working on again. Read all the eligibility criteria carefully, and, if in doubt, ring up the Literature Officer and find out whether you are eligible. In fact, talk to the LO anyway. Have a list of questions and see if they offer – as some regions do – workshops in applying for a grant. In my region (East), Escalator is a yearly programme set up to steer applicants through the Grants for the Arts process. At the very least, the LO might remember your name and look at your project more favourably because they’ve heard you talk about it with enthusiasm. Or you might learn something about other possible funding, competitions or work opportunities for writers locally.

2. Be a good reader.

Read the assessment criteria carefully and determine how you fit into it. If it asks that your work ‘engages new audiences,’ don’t throw up your hands in despair – see if you can’t find a way in which it does. Here’s a simple example: perhaps you want to complete a novel for teenagers? Perhaps it might appeal to teenage boys? You know from all the media attention that this is a readership resistant to fiction or even to reading books, so you could be said to be ‘engaging new audiences’ if you write for that age group – even though you hadn’t set out specifically to do so. Bingo!

3. Don’t be greedy.

How much should you ask for? There’s no simple answer to this. Be honest; don’t be cheeky. Work the sums out. No writer needs a spanking new laptop to make their haiku collection possible. Probably the greatest cost to you is going to be your time, as well as any admin support, travel costs and research materials. Again, study carefully what is or isn’t eligible in the guide. Amounts over £5,000 will take longer to assess, but if this is what you need, don’t be impatient. The essential thing is to make the budget add up. Many writers don’t. We pay attention to the artistic proposal and not the sums. But your application will be rejected outright if the boxes don’t add up so, if this is not your strong point, engage some help and…

4. Be specific.

Money to ‘write my novel’ does not sound as persuasive as an application where you have worked out exactly how many days it will take and what kind of support you need. Would it help to have a writing mentor? To go on an Arvon course? To attend a short-story workshop or take some voice-coaching to improve the way you read and present your own work? Where the form asks if you intend to contribute ‘in kind,’ be sensible: of course you do! Don’t you intend to absorb some of the costs, of postage or electricity or paper and ink…? Or do you have a small amount of your own saved up that you are willing to contribute to this important venture? Make sure to put something in this box – ACE used to say an applicant had to contribute 10 per cent of the overall budget. They no longer offer such a guideline, but leaving this box empty just looks greedy.

5. Follow the instructions.

There is an order in which you have to answer questions – stick to it. It helps, actually, asking yourself awkward questions like: ‘What do you want to do?’ (Answer: ‘Finish writing this damn novel.’) ‘How will this activity develop your future work?’ (Answer: ‘If I write this one well, I will have something to send to an agent. If I get an agent, I will have a chance of publishing this and future novels and a chance to make a living as a writer, etc…’).

6. Try again, be persistent.

Applications are turned down, it’s a given. The LO is there to talk to you about why, and suggest ways to improve the budget or clarify details. The wounded applicant never calls back, shoves the letter in the bin and doesn’t think to send it off again. If there is an encouraging remark with your rejected application pluck up your courage and find out what you could do to improve it. Then, try again. It’s such an important lesson for a writer anyway. Most writers have fine, fine skin. To be good you have to be able to make yourself skinless, soak up everything, achieve Keats’ ideal of ‘negative capability.’ To publish and to survive financially you need a hide like leather. Grow one.

7. Be truthful but not dispirited.

One of the reasons the application form is so intimidating is that it brings out self-doubts and anxieties: ‘Who am I to call myself a writer? Maybe I’m no good? Surely the world doesn’t owe me a living and I should stick with the teaching job? Maybe being a parent is too overwhelming – I shouldn’t even try to think of writing as a serious occupation?’ Suspending these feelings for the time it takes to fill out the form and write the proposal will help. Sylvia Plath said the only threat to creativity was self-doubt. In fact, isn’t doubt healthy for the writing process? Otherwise work might topple under the weight of our egos. But earning money, staying alive and self belief are required. Create some.

You’re a writer: dream it up.

JILL DAWSON’s sixth novel The Great Lover, about the life and loves of poet Rupert Brooke, is out now from Sceptre.

This feature has been selected from the Mslexia archive. For the latest on the writing world, publishing and creativity subscribe now. To sample more Mslexia features or to find out about the latest issue click here.

From Issue 40 ◊ Jan/Feb/Mar 2009

• PHOTO © PHYLLIS CHRISTOPHER