Postcard from Marrakech: a story masterclass from a Nobel prize winner
A new writing retreat features star guests including Abdulrazak Gurnah, Monica Ali and Maggie O’Farrell James Albon
The evening star is bright above the Palmeraie of Marrakech; palm trees cast moon-shadows across the roof terrace where a group of us cluster around the Nobel laureate, Abdulrazak Gurnah. He is reading from his novel, By the Sea, in a low voice that we lean in to catch, a dozen would-be authors from Syria, Nigeria, Pakistan, Panama, France and the UK.
We are here for a new writing masterclass set up by four friends from the world of publishing and media: Alexandra Pringle, former editor-in-chief at Bloomsbury Publishing, Nesrine Malik, a newspaper columnist, Faiza Khan, another former Bloomsbury editor and now a literary consultant, and Alex von Tunzelmann, a historian, author and screenwriter. Sharing a love of travel, stories and shopping, last year they set up Silk Road Slippers, an online boutique selling textiles, jewellery and homewares sourced on their travels. Now they are branching out into a series of writing classes, held in Marrakech and each featuring a star writer who joins for two of the six days: the 2024 line-up includes Monica Ali, Maggie O’Farrell and Kamila Shamsie. Gurnah is the guest during our visit and in the intimacy of the candlelit circle, he gets into his stride, his natural, straight-backed reserve loosening as he goes further into his imagined world. When the muezzin sounds the call to prayer, it adds texture to the lullaby of Gurnah’s reading and the story unravelling. The moment weaves an enchantment that I don’t dare break; not even to refill my glass of wine. Four people gather beneath palm trees at night for a group photo
From left, Catherine Fairweather, hotel owner Meryanne Loum-Martin, Abdulrazak Gurnah and Alexandra Pringle, one of the four founders of Silk Road Slippers Members of the writing class stand chatting under Moorish arches Guests at the Jnane Tamsna © Saad Alami The course takes place at Jnane Tamsna, a 24-bedroom hotel surrounded by nine acres of gardens, about 20 minutes’ drive from the souks in the city centre. Mornings begin with steaming cups of mint tea and we huddle around a fire in an open air hearth. There’s dew on the cushions and the cats move around the warm patchwork of sun that falls through the gaps of the carob tree. Our first daily task is “Morning Pages”, a 20-minute exercise adapted from Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way, designed to limber up, relax the writing muscle and overcome literary self-consciousness. We are given prompts, such as postcards, to get the creative juices flowing then told to write whatever comes into our heads. “Write like you dance, when no one is watching,” says Khan. The resulting splurge of words we thankfully get to keep to ourselves.
This is followed by intense bouts of writing in seven-minute blocks, the time pressure deliberate. The thing writers get stuck on, says Khan, is overthinking, and not being able to trust their instincts. The tap-tapping of laptops, and the hum of bees rummaging in the hibiscus, alternate with a public feedback on the work.
Our first daily task is ‘Morning Pages’, a 20-minute exercise designed to relax the writing muscle and overcome literary self-consciousness There are specialised seminars on writing techniques — from structuring a compelling narrative, to finding a voice and style, or capturing a sense of place — and more practical tips too, such as how to find an agent and publisher. The week before mine, Booker Prize-winner Shehan Karunatilaka spoke about establishing a writing routine and about “world-building”, how to create the internal rules for your book, be it fiction or non-fiction. As a former editor, I enjoyed a seminar on redrafting, where we discussed Raymond Carver before and after edits, applying some of the techniques and tools that had been taught to us, to help keep the narrative taut.
Constructive criticism, as these editors know after years of hands-on experience with writers, is the most valuable lesson of all. Exhilarating but also exhausting and occasionally demoralising. Above all, the writing practice makes us hungry. We fall on the plates of almonds, the salad and smoked trout sandwiches at lunch. A hotel lounge decorated with Moorish arches, sofas, lamps and carpets A guest lounge at the 24-bedroom hotel A path leading through a garden lined with palm trees
Part of the Jnane’s nine acres of gardens, located in the Palmeraie of Marrakech Moorish arches filled with green-leaved trees
The gardens were designed by the owner’s American husband, botanist Gary Martin One day we head to the Monde des Arts de la Parure, a museum in the medina, in order “to sharpen senses and hone our powers of observation and description”. Marrakech has seen an impressive clean up since September’s deadly earthquakes, though rubble still piles up behind sheeting in the Kasbah. In contrast to its narrow, busy, streets, the hotel’s palm grove and garden, complete with tennis court and five pools, is a haven. I decide to embrace the bubble and switch my phone to airplane mode for the duration of the trip.
There is a misconception that a writing course is a solitary experience involving introspection in the process of excavating seams of memory. Instead I found the energy and creativity unleashed by being part of a group — debating, working, playing and writing together — to be a revelation. The group ranged in age from 23 to 63, most working in finance, law and education, drawn here by a hankering to develop the creative hemisphere of their brains.
I am still not sure I have a book inside me, but the struggle and sense of trying feels important, as does the pang of bereavement, when the group that had been so self-supporting, has to break apart. I can’t handle endings, in life, as in my writing, as I finally confess to my class.
Catherine Fairweather was a guest of Silk Road Slippers (silkroadslippers.com) and Jnane Tamsna (jnanetamsna.com). Five-night masterclasses cost £3,935 including accommodation at Jnane Tamsna