My first Milford was nearly 43 years ago (good grief!) in 1981, when it was still held at Milford-on-Sea because of the name. Among the participants was George RR Martin, and so when Game of Thrones made it big on TV, I was able to say, shamelessly, “Well, of course I know George…”
I missed the 1982 Milford because I’d started a new job in the middle of the year and had used up more than all of my truncated annual leave allowance on my TAFF trip to Chicago and other destinations in the US. The President then was Ronald Reagan, and I have no idea how he managed to get elected since no one I met on my trip had voted for him.
My last Milford was 1983. A week after it ended, I married Diana Reed, another of the attendees, in Cornwall. This was carefully planned, I hasten to add, not a sudden elopement. Other Milford alumni at our wedding were Rob Holdstock, Garry Kilworth and Andrew Stephenson, and my best man was Dave Langford. Marriage, a new career and starting a family somewhat got in the way of writing – more than somewhat – but I have returned to it in recent years, following retirement to Wadebridge in Cornwall. Though perhaps it should be said that much of my writing now is news reports, press releases, website updates, Facebook posts and other communications for the various local community organisations I volunteer for.
Diana still writes as Diana Reed, and every so often has a poem or short story published. A few years ago we formed a small writers group in Wadebridge, adopting what are essentially Milford rules for the quarterly meetings, which have continued through the pandemic via Zoom, Google Docs and email. And there’s a deadline to meet – hurrah!
Still, I have written a novel (fantasy, with a young hero) but in writing the sequel (of course there’s a sequel) I have discovered things I’d like to change in volume 1 (probably, possibly), such as the gender of one of the main characters. Does this tie back to the discussion forum topic about knowing when to stop?
Perhaps this is when to stop.
Footnote
* Not that it made any difference. Few of my friends here in Cornwall are bothered about Game of Thrones, and my children (who do like it) refuse to be impressed by such things.
Kevin Smith attended two Milfords in the early 1980s, but life is odd and his career in finance in Shell developed in other ways that were challenging and creative, and provided a surer foundation for bringing up a young family than writing sf and fantasy. After several decades, Shell made him an irresistible offer to go away and he took up the status of pensioner in Wadebridge, North Cornwall, with Diana. He now volunteers with Wadebridge Renewable Energy Network (WREN), Wadebridge Creative Hub and a couple of local clubs where his ability to string more than three words together grammatically makes him invaluable as ‘communications officer’, which in turn provides many plausible excuses for not getting on with that novel…
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