Creative Writing remains somewhat of an anomaly within the academic community. Even though it is becoming increasingly theoretical in its outlook, engaging on an extremely dynamic level with many other academic disciplines, its practice-led predisposition still raises eyebrows, and the all too common question soon follows - can creative writing be taught?

This is a question that perhaps, by now, has been exhausted beyond any possible answer that could be given; a subject that has been debated and dissected at countless literary events – the question any lecturer of creative writing is compelled to answer at some point in their career. But what is interesting about the question is often the tone with which it is uttered. Sometimes there is a quiver, or a suppressed laugh – at other times genuine curiosity or confusion. At other, more inopportune moments, perhaps it is asked with the intention of catching someone out, laced perhaps with a slight sneering scepticism that makes the assumption that creative writing is none other than a bit of an easy ride, a less academic subject for those pottering around with so-called ideas that are unable to find a form, or that the discipline itself (equally so-called to some) is merely providing a respite from the drudgery of life. Even some of the most experienced and high-profile tutors of the subject have made certain inflammatory remarks; the author Hanif Kureshi, for example, who is himself a research associate on the creative writing course at Kingston University, stated at the 2008 Guardian Hay Festival that he thought creative writing courses were ‘the new mental hospitals,’ which sparked a great deal of debate along the mud-sodden-fields of the Hay Festival that week. But one must also bear in mind the fact that, within the same interview, he also conceded: “When I teach them, they are always better at the end - and more unhappy," which – though seemingly bleak in outlook – certainly contains an interesting grain of truth. If Creative Writing is to be treated as an academic discipline, then it must be recognised that it is, like any other discipline, a labour-intensive one, which demands great skill and dedication from its practioners, who will only get out of it what they are willing to put in – and who, through recognising their own failings (what Kureshi terms rather despondently as the necessary ‘unhappiness’), will start to address many of their technical shortcomings early on in their career, so that they can begin to carve out their voiceprint, and move boldly forward with renewed energy and clarity of creative vision.

The aim of the Swansea Review, therefore, is not to dispute, justify or answer this age-old question of whether creative writing qualifies as an academic discipline – but rather, in keeping with its practice-led ethos, to show that it does. This issue brings together a community of writers who have a shared learning experience; those who have a keen understanding of the academic discourse of creative writing, and are eager to attribute their successes as prize-winning, published and soon-to-be-published writers to these courses. Those who have opened up their minds to the possibilities and opportunities engendered by the experience, and have, as a result, gained a great deal not only from the advice of their tutors, but also from their peers, whose careful critiquing and passion for literature have given them inestimable support, affording them the most valued experience of all; access to a writers’ community. The Swansea Review therefore aims to become a kind of virtual writers’ community which reflects not only what is happening within Swansea University itself, but also connecting our English Department to a broader academic and creative writing community, encouraging dialogue and debate, giving a sense of the broad scope of our connections and our interests, not to mention our unrelenting commitment to exploring and researching what is happening elsewhere, in order to move our own, varying disciplines, forward.

This second issue of the Swansea Review brings together a host of new and established writers, who have all been part of a writers’ community at one time or another, and who know, as a result, that the anomalous nature of creative writing is exactly what gives it its power, dynamism and splendour. This journal therefore showcases those who have not merely looked for answers, but who have kept asking, and exploring, the question.

Dr. Fflur Dafydd