Milford 2024

Milford cohort September 2024:
Chris McCartney, Anthony Francis, Molly Bronstein, Merin McDonnell, SJ Groenewegen, Fiona Moore, Neon Yang, Jim Anderson, Naomi Eselojor, Jacey Bedford, Mike lewis, Terry Jackman, Adriana Kantcheva, Mark Bilsborough, Pauline Dungate.

-o0o-

Milford Report by S.J. Groenewegen

Milford has been on my radar for some time, not that I can remember exactly when I first heard of it. Maybe I saw it mentioned by one or two of the SF authors whose work I read while I was a kid. I wanted to write from a young age and loved reading about how my favourite authors got started in their writing careers. Over the years, I wrote short fiction and essays, and tried a few novels – with the mixed success of a typical author.

When I was at Worldcon 2014 in London, I must have spoken to someone involved in running Milford. Shortly after, I checked out the website and I marked it as something to keep an eye on. For a bunch of reasons, it wasn’t until last year that I applied to attend a Milford critique week. Much to my delight and surprise, I was accepted almost straight away. I paid my deposit and cleared my calendar for a week in September 2024.

Then came a long wait.

During that time, I worked on a new on-spec novel and finished the first draft at the end of June 2024. I figured the Milford treatment would be helpful to prepare it for submitting to agents and publishers. In July, I started my second draft and was happy enough with the first couple of chapters to send it to my Milford critique group. This was coupled with my usual trepidation of showing a new piece of my writing to anyone.

At this year’s Worldcon in Glasgow I met several people involved with Milford. They included Jacey Bedford, who invited me along to a lunch with Milford folk at the convention. While I knew a few of them already through going to conventions, it was lovely to listen to everyone talking about past experiences and looking forward to the new venue – Gladstone’s Library in Hawarden, Wales.

My trepidation started to shift to anticipation.

As September drew closer, my email in-box filled with short stories and extracts of novels. The range of stories sent for critique were a terrific reminder that the genre in which we write is incredibly rich and varied. The talent on display from everyone just extraordinary and inspiring.

Following Jacey’s advice to the group, I set myself a timetable to read a couple each day, which I honoured. Mostly. By the time I made the long journey south from Scotland, I had read everyone’s submissions at least once and scribbled a few notes down on each. I didn’t have the time to feel anxious about how my own work would be received.

We also got emails telling us about the venue, the timetables for the week, and easy-to-follow instructions about the Milford critique method. We were encouraged to introduce ourselves. Everyone acted in a collegiate and friendly fashion, which carried through the whole week and beyond.

Everyone met in-person for the first time during Friday’s evening meal at Gladstone’s Library. We were joined by two Milford members undertaking a writing retreat and not joining us in the critique sessions. Jim Anderson and Jacey both welcomed everyone, and made sure that all us newbies had a basic idea of what to expect. Most of us continued our introductory chat in the lounge, and for me at least, it felt quickly like we were becoming friends.

There were five critique sessions in total, all taking place in the afternoons. Various types of chocolate were cast on the table in preparation. There’s a tradition of harsh critiques being accompanied by chocolate (or similar), but this time the chocolate was to share. The critiques were thorough and incisive, but all were constructive.

All of the works critiqued in the first session were by people who have been to Milford before. Not only that, the first people called upon to deliver their critique were also not newbies. This is such a thoughtful way of organising things, as well as effective. It gave us newbies a chance to see the Milford method in action. It’s one thing to read about it, but for me at least it’s another to see it play out. I was impressed in particular by how it discourages groupthink as well as respect. We are here to support each other, and to make our work the best it can be.

But, it’s not all work. Milford is great for solitary writers to meet socially. We met up at meal times, not all at Gladstone’s library, and in the evenings. A few went for walks together, and Milford keeps a day free for people who want to go exploring somewhere nearby to the retreat. This time a group of us went to Chester to walk the walls and check out some shopping.

So, if you’re thinking about Milford but aren’t sure yet if it’s for you, do give it a go. I’m really pleased I did and am planning my next one.

-o0o-

Milford Sayings, taken out of context... just because we can.

New Milford Committee elected at the AGM on September 2024

Jim Anderson - Chair
Jacey Bedford - Secretary / website
Phil Nanson / Kari Sperring - Treasurer
Tiffani Angus - Social media
Dave Gullen
Chris McCartney
Liz Williams
Mark Bilsborough
Mike Lewis

-o0o-

Milford 2023
16th - 23rd September, at Trigonos, Nantlle, North Wales

L-R: Jacey Bedford, Janet Forbes, Ida Keogh, Siobhan McVeigh, Marielle Verdijk, Akotowaa ofori, Jim Anderson, Neon Yang, Liz Williams, Tiffani Angus, Chris McCartney, Sue Oke, Powder Thompson, Pauline Dungate.

-o0o-

Milford Report 2023 by Janet Forbes

In the too-many months since Milford (sorry Jacey!), this assignment has been the phantom lurking on my to-do list. How should I explain a writing week, about a group of writers, to another group of writers, in writing? With that in mind, let me tell you my Milford experience.

I first discovered Milford online and had very little context for it - no personal recommendations, just a Reddit thread that said it was “something like Clarion but in the UK”. Alumni like Neil Gaimen and George R.R. Martin popped up. I was, of course, terrified. But it’s good to do things that terrify you, so I ignored the crushing brain goblins and applied anyway.

After initially being shocked I had even been accepted for the week (What have I done? I wondered), the “introduce yourself” email came. Oh dear lord, how do I introduce myself? Have I forgotten who I am? What even is my name?

Well, it seemed that everyone else was in the same boat, and totally charming about it. Instead of glossy, professional bios and cold, hard bragging, everyone introduced themselves in a very human way - even the rather big names with very large stacks of books behind them.

And I suppose that really set the tone for the whole Milford week: whether you had a PhD in writing, decades of experience in the publishing industry, or you would just starting out and finding your voice (see for reference: me), everyone was thoroughly welcome, everyone was respectful and constructive in their feedback, and everyone was kind.

Coming from overseas, the next issue was how on Earth was I going to get to the middle of sodding nowhere? From shared train rides and taxis, to the very kind offer of a lift from Birmingham in a car (thanks again for an awesome journey, Pauline!), I needn’t have worried. We all made it in one piece and, like in the stories, we made friends on the way.

From there, there were plenty of people to answer questions - and boy, did I have a lot of them. I had a room in the rabbit hutches, where I found the toilet roll holder doubled as a magnificent spider-mashing lance. And I was inducted by old hands in the ways of Milford Cake Hour. There was always someone sharing out wine or snacks or wacky anecdotes. There was the air of old friends and collaboration.

If you've been to Milford before you'll be familiar with the core practice:  mornings are free, afternoons I spent in the critique Circle, giving 3 minutes of feedback apiece on an author's work. This was all new to me, and I was so happy to see how kind and respectful each author was, and how varied and insightful most of the criticism. The group was diverse in background and experience, and that really helped bring different perspectives to the feedback, which made it incredibly useful.

If you’re considering Milford, and you’re worried you won’t be welcome - then stop that thought in its tracks. I’ve never been among such friendly, welcoming writers before. And if you’re wondering if it’s worth it, then just do it. Apply. It’s an unparalleled experience.

-o0o-

Milford 2023 Sayings, taken out of context... just because we can.

• I think about getting bodies out of places all the time, don't you?
• I lived in a trailer when I was a child.
  So did I, but I still have standards.
• It wasn't quite what I was aiming for, but I like it.
• I don't think you take a pick to a rock fall unless you want a bigger rock fall.
• I'm happy if they kill each other. Go for it!
• When I wrote the founders I thought, 'Oh, God, I've written founders.'
• Unless, of course, it's a fairy tale, in which case knickers don't matter.
• ...hog-whimperingly drunk...
• I was trying to write a novel and ended up writing world-building software by accident.
• I have an early-warning duckie because that's what you need in your life.
• You don't look like a man who needs a mandrake.
• If you see inanimate objects as people, then a tape measure is very flirtatious.
• And then the beer gods show up...
• I have a friend who fired her spirit guides because they were not performing to her expectations.
• When I was a child I was pissed on by a tiger at Bristol Zoo.
• ...and I would shout, 'Penis duty.'
• My friend's grandma took out a cobra with a throwing axe.
• Take a drink every time Jim mentions Columbo.
• Some sentences are so beautiful I want to frame them.
• You focus on gold, I'll take the dead children.
• I was a crash test dummy for someone once.
• My friend's handwriting is so bad that you could take it to a pharmacy and get it made up.
• The undergraduate in me that studied formal logic appreciates that remark.
• The guiding aesthetic principle here is - more is more.
• Beatrice talks to donkeys.
• It's like taking drugs without taking drugs.
• It's the weirdest place I've ever been to - and the bar is high.
• This fucking plot! All I have to do is execute it, but I'd rather execute myself.
• It was the whale that did me in.
• I'll stop thinking about codpieces if you mention Queen Victoria.
• Would you like my spiders?
• Dinosaur porn is a thing.
• Jesus's foreskin is the rings of Saturn.
• If you turn 21 and you're still at the house, your mother will eat you.
• I'd almost forgotten you could write.

-o0o-

Milford 2022
10th - 17th September, at Trigonos, Nantlle, North Wales

Left to right. Mike Verant, Liz Williams, Fiona Moore, John Biglands, Gaie Sebold (middle), Jacey Bedford (front), Dave Gullen (back), Jim Anderson (middle), Dolly Garland (front), Mike Lewis (half-hidden, back), Steph Bianchini (front), Sarah K Ellis (half hidden, back), Ramya Jegatheesan, Somto Ihezue.

Another Milford has come and gone. We had a wonderful time with some serious hard work and sociable evenings in the library with much laughter (and not a little wine).

Milford Report - 2022 - by Ramya Jegatheesan

The weeks leading up to the Milford conference did not bode well. A whole bevy of train strikes and rail line cancellations meant some very frantic and desperate emails begging any stranger who would have me for a ride to Trigonos.  The weather looked wet and miserable. And then to top it all off, a very powerful, rich, famous old lady died a few days before the conference began. All in all, an ominous lead-up. 
I’d already been worried about the conference. I had agonised about applying for a bursary place - would I get it? Was my writing speculative enough for Milford? Was my writing good enough for Milford? Was I good enough???

I was momentarily thrilled when I was offered a place - and then I started worrying all over again. Would I fit in? Would the other writers be nice? Was my writing speculative enough?  Was I good enough?!

But my enjoyment of the week was in direct proportion to how much I’d worried. Milford regular and Most Egregious Token Male (official committee title) offered me a ride to the conference. Everyone I met there was wonderfully nice, ridiculously interesting and genuinely a pleasure to drink copious amounts of alcohol and shoot the shit with. The other writers were knowledgeable, their feedback given with much thought and care and there was a sense of egalitarian community and mutual helping out. I think the committee members, especially Liz and Jacey, purposefully and intentionally work towards a welcoming, open atmosphere and it really pays off. By the end of the week, you couldn’t tell who were the regulars and who were Milford first-timers. 

The week was structured, the day broken up by multiple opportunities to eat and lots of free time to do your own thing. Breakfast, elevenses (homemade biscuits and tea/coffee), lunch, then the crit sessions, followed by homemade cake and tea/coffee, and then dinner. We rounded off the evening with drinking and talking in the library. The feedback or ‘crit’ sessions took place after lunch and was usually finished by cake time - and if they weren’t, we’d break for cake time before returning to finish the last piece. I’d got most of the reading done at home (which I would strongly recommend) so most of the day for me was spent walking in the Trigonos grounds, Snowdon in the background, the lake twinkling beatifically or walking down to Dorothea Quarry (also called Mordor by Milford regulars) to explore among decomposing slate houses and rusting quarry machinery.  One memorable night saw me going for a nighttime, moonlit lake dip which was well worth the skinned and bruised knee. 

So, having agonised about this all, what advice do I have for you? Well buckle in, here’s a list:

1. Just do it. Stop hemming and hawing, stop chewing your lip/pen/fingers and apply. If you’re Milford qualified (which means you’ve sold at least one speculative short story or novel), then book your place. If you’re Milford qualified and a writer of colour, apply for the bursary. Do it, do it, do it. It’s a fairly easy process and you have no reason not to. It’s so worth it.
2.  Do the reading before you turn up so you can make full use of the lakeside walks, Modor, cake time and chat time.
3. Bring inside shoes. You’ll appreciate having something comfy and not covered in rabbit poo. 
4. You don’ttechnically need to bring any extra food. Trigonos feed you four times a day, are very good at accommodating dietary requirements and there are always chocolates during the crit sessions. If you really want to bring something to eat, bring something savoury.
5. If you don’t drink alcohol, I’d recommend bringing your virgin tipple of choice. There’s no chance of running out of alcohol in the evenings but the delicious Trigonos-made cordials are usually put away by then and you might want something to choke on as the conversations get funnier and more surreal.
6.   Write down every book every person mentions. They will all sound interesting and you will forget every single one when you get back home.
7. Just do it.

My normal life is a series of to-do lists and post-it notes. I didn’t realise how relaxed and centred I’d felt at Trigonos until I got back home. It’s probably the beautiful scenery, Snowdon winking in the background, and the long countryside walks. Or being really well fed on homegrown, home-cooked food. Or just spending the evenings ‘being’, talking with wonderful people and getting to enjoy life and company. Milford was so good for my mental health and that has only been good for my writing, too.

All in all, it was the week of writerly dreams.  I got back home buoyed and encouraged about my work in progress and disappointed that this couldn’t be my life forever. If only there was a tiny bubble planet where 15 writers could walk in the shadow of mountains, eat tomatoes, drink wine and laugh about Space Jesus forever…

-o0o-

Milford Report - 2022 - by Somto Ihezue

Getting into Milford was a dream. I still can’t fit my excitement into words. I remember applying after I found out Suyi Davies had attended in the past. I initially didn’t think I could get in, but seeing another Nigerian on that blog post was the push I needed. I also never thought I’d make it to the United Kingdom. There were too many stories of the setbacks Nigerians and Africans at large faced in a bid to travel across borders, and I was resigned to my looming fate. When the visa came, it was a mixture of feelings. Things were starting to fall into place, but things were also starting to get real. Only then did it truly register — I was going to Milford.

So I packed my stuff, boarded my first flight to London, and then hitched a ride to Wales. I drove down with Fiona, Dolly, and Mike. They were the most excellent company, and the trip was serene—though I slept through most of it. The jetlag was still taking its toll. We eventually got to Trigonos, and the nerves kicked in. In a foreign country, surrounded by new people, I could sparsely breathe. This would also be my first time in a space filled with more than a dozen writers. But from the very first person who welcomed me, there was this warmth and a super welcoming atmosphere. An atmosphere that said, “You belong here.”

And not only did I belong, for that one week, Milford was also home. Writing this, I remember it all so vividly. The food was new, but a cascade of flavor. The squash, the chocolate cake, the oat milk, the berries, the coffee, and the biscuits—which made me feel like I was in a British sitcom. I remember the evenings in the library where we had wine and laughed and the stories would fill up every inch of the room. Jacey wrote down all the stuff that was too hilariously precious to let go. Space Jesus comes to mind. I can still see Mike sitting on the floor like some monk moonlighting as a mathematics professor.

The evenings in the library usually went on late into the night and saw us scurrying off to bed a little tipsy. I remember the room where I slept. It was freezing the first night and I didn’t say anything ‘cause I assumed everyone in Wales just slept in the biting cold. Coming from the tropics where heaters are a non-existent thing, the one right in the room didn’t occur to me. I eventually figured it out, and I remember the coziness, the incredibly soft bed, and the bathroom gel that smelled of lost memories.

The critique sessions kicked off right away, and they were just great. You get to witness this wealth of knowledge, skill, and experience. There was an air of sincerity and kindness in which everyone approached each other’s stories, and it was just wonderful to see. I will eternally be grateful for all the wholesome and encouraging words. There was also chocolate. Loads and loads of it. I might have had a few bites too much, and I’d eat all over again if I got the chance. After my stories got critiqued and I went back to the notes, I just went, “Woah, thanks for all the free feedback. People pay money for this”. Incorporating the suggestions and pointers had my stories coming out better and stronger.

The crit sessions came to an end on Friday, leaving me with ample time to just lay around. It was in this idleness that Ramya reminded me she’d jumped in the lake on a random night. Many people don’t know this, but I have a penchant for getting into the most chaotic situations. So, come midnight, I threw a blanket over myself and headed down to the lake. It was dark. Frighteningly dark. I badgered on, through the field, and down to the water. There, I took off all my clothes, the cold breeze finding all the corners of my body, and slid into the waters. That was when the panic and sense of self-preservation kicked in. Looking at the lake was different from being in it. It was the large immersing thing and then there was me—a boy who couldn’t swim. I was properly terrified. I flailed out of the water, splashing and wheezing. As I raced back across the field, freezing my butt off, it occurred to me, what if I had been taken by wolves or fairies? Poor Jacey and Liz would have to travel down to Nigeria to inform my parents. I honestly didn’t think the whole thing through.

Okay, rounding it up, to everyone who wants to experience the beauty, warmth, friendship, and wealth of knowledge that Milford offers, take out your phone, or laptop, or scroll, whatever works for you, and pen down that application. Believe me, it’ll be infinitely worth it. And there’s this tradition thingy Liz did at the end. I can’t share it ‘cause it’s supposed to be a secret, but it was the most beautiful thing. Honestly, words can’t appropriately describe it, you just have to experience it. The only downside to Milford is that you might spend the rest of your life daydreaming and wanting nothing more than to go back. I miss everyone terribly, and it broke my heart to leave. For the record, I’m bawling out my eyes at this point. Oh, I can’t wait to tell my kids—whom I don’t have yet—about Milford.

Milford wasn’t just a place or a gathering. It was a feeling. I want to exist in that feeling forever.

Milford Sayings 2022 - taken out of context, just because we can!

• Ruling Hell is not a standard career path.
• My late mother-in-law was a wall-of-death rider.
• It’s a good wine to spill carpet on.
• I just googled patriotic corset to see what you get.
• I would buy a Milford corset.
• Who doesn't love Space Jesus?
• I like the idea of Jesus fan-fic.
• I'm sorry, I've just had three glasses of wine, my filter didn't kick in.
• Don't poke the mathematician.
• Talking about aliens in swimsuits...
• Can you conjugate cunnilingus? / Yes, but I can never decline it.
• No, dear, Jesus is not a lion.
• And then there’s the part with the Octopus…
• See, Mom and Dad, tentacle porn is a thing.
• And then I was sobbing with the toilet brush in my hand.
• Based on the Book of the Whatd’yamacallits.
• I can’t remember; it’s too subtle.
• That movie was like the monster ate by Lands End Catalogue.
• It did have the zombie wheel of cheese.
• Why do they say you’re a cat? Do you lick yourself?
• Failing that, you could just have a front garden of headless dolls.
• Most of the assholes I like are actually dead, so that’s OK.
• I’ll just go back and monitor the cat flap. #Bob is in the building
• My comfort movie has a body count.
• The teaching was fine, I’ve just got this murderous streak.
• We never let old bananas go.
• And the snake said ‘I spent this fucking long getting rid of my fucking legs and now you’ve given me fucking wheels.
• When I was young I was not as nice a man as I am now. There’s a part of me that’s keeping the rest of me in check.
• They have a rant in a bar and are never seen again.
• I wasn’t making fun of you; I was just trying to establish parameters.
• Let’s do it in the library ‘cos some of us are okay to start drinking at four.
• We’re not burglars, we’re Canadians.
• I was trying to set up a hi-fi-what-spot.
• I’ve never heard Hendrix on spoons before.
• The noise that woke me up at night was machine gun fire. That was a bit weird.”
• “I chased her out of the shop screaming, ‘What colour is the sky on your fucking world?’
• My unexpected noise moment was a very different scenario.
• Talking about unexpected noises…
• There are different sizes of infinity; don’t get me started.
• It broke my heart in a really good way.
• I’m always fond of harrowing emotions.
• I’m glad the internet wasn’t around when I was writing teenage angst poetry.
• Treat your reader as if they’re dumb in order to make them feel clever.
• Does not work with bears.