The comfortable archetype of the solitary writer is a persistent one. Most of us lead lives of responsibility–to family, friends, career, school–and writing gives us the control to construct and manage personae and worlds designed to our own specifications. Inviting others into that sacred process can be unnerving. What can worse than indulging in hours of crafting a story, only to have it torn apart? Any writer who is serious about her craft will write with an urgent honesty that may reveal more about her authentic self than she is willing to share.
Writing is a non-pathologizing therapy. Even if a writer is not directly engaged in memoir, he is the expert. It is important for any writer, regardless of experience, to recognize himself as the foremost authority on his work. Equipped with this mindset, a writer may decide he needs input from others in order to craft stories that fully and effectively communicate the closest approximation to what exists in his mind. A writers’ group (or workshop) may be the best environment in which to cultivate the temperament and skills that allow us to approach such a task.
When is it time for a writer to consider joining or starting a writers’ group? There are as many different answers as there are writers. The answer may even be “no.” I can only speak to my own experience. Hopefully, dear reader, you will find my thoughts helpful.
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You have been writing on your own for a while
I had been writing and getting my work published for almost five years before I joined my current group. Until I started researching MFA programs as a possible next step, I had not seriously even considered joining one (more on this later). I felt that by reading as much classic and contemporary literature as I could, I was supplying myself with all I needed. I also had a few trusted readers whose thoughts and opinions I valued. For a time, I even had a great mentor.
I love my current group, but without the years spent working in near-solitude, I would lack the empowering perspective that comes with overcoming an obstacle with ingenuity alone. Before I joined my current group, the only voices that came to me while writing were my own, and my mentor’s. Now I have a slew of personalities and tastes that I need to filter out. They give me a new and exciting perspective on how my work will impact readers.
In my experience, devoting time to writing on one’s own before seeking new perspectives is vital to gaining an appreciation for what a writing workshop can actually do for one’s work. Keep in mind the very valid criticism of the workshop: when we rely on consensus alone to determine the choices we make, we run the risk of losing what may be truly unique about of work. We can all too easily reduce our style and approach to some least common denominator in an effort to please as many readers as possible.
2. You feel stagnant
I don’t know what I expected would happen after my first story was accepted for publication (read it here) Part of me thought that a door had been opened, and now the acceptances would come pouring in. Editors would read my bio and know that I was serious. Surely my work would receive more attention. Not so.
In the months that followed, I became frustrated that my fiction wasn’t getting accepted elsewhere. I felt like that first one may have been a fluke. I started writing book reviews, and fortunately found them homes in some great journals. I hoped to gain perspective on my own work by delving deeply into the work of others. Writing a review is a great exercise and can be very satisfying, but it didn’t provide the necessary creative jolt I needed.
My writers’ group did. I had developed some habits that together formed a fixed mindset about my work that I had been completely unaware of. My first critique felt like being pulled to the surface from some murky depth. Without being aware of my predicament, I had been floundering. Could I have had a similar breakthrough on my own? Maybe, but it would have been a long time coming.
3. You are interested in pursuing a degree, specifically an MFA
When I made the decision start applying to MFA programs, I still had never been in a formal workshop. I got a five-month head start on my applications, and soon realized that I was having a hard time articulating (on paper and to others) why I thought such a program was the right move. After researching dozens of programs, it became clear that most (though not all) rely on the workshop as the primary means of developing the writer’s craft. How could I write a strong statement of purpose if I had no idea what I was getting myself into?
I am fortunate to have found a great group here in Philadelphia. We come from different geographical locations, possess different backgrounds, and so value different things in good writing. I am now able to articulate what I know I can achieve given an intensive, workshop-focused program. I am gaining an appreciation for various approaches and styles. I am more aware of my own habits, biases and blind spots. I have a richer set of perspectives to draw from when I approach my own work.
One of my favorite aspects of a workshop is the opportunity to disagree and to hear others disagree about my work. At the very least, it is a reminder of what to expect when submitting work for publication. Just as a piece will likely be rejected by several editors before it finds a home, nine different readers in a workshop will provide nine different opinions. For example, I submitted a draft of a story to my group that focused on the thoughts and actions of one character, but I used an omniscient narrator to peek into the minds of a select few other characters. Some in my group felt those peeks distracting and unnecessary. Other reveled in those different perspectives. In the end, I found the solution was to use dialogue and action to reveal the personalities of those minor characters. This gave the piece more focus and ultimately improved it.
That was a bit of a tangent, but the point is: as my MFA application deadlines near, I feel vastly more prepared for having been in a workshop situation.
4. You are eager to share your work
This may seem obvious, but some writers don’t like sharing their work. Even though I love my writers’ group, the act of writing remains intensely personal to me. I can completely understand how different perspectives and contrasting viewpoints can be distracting. If you are a writer who yearns for any of the following: publication, recognition, accolades, validation, or a community (and let’s face it, that’s most of us) then sharing your work is not only imperative, it is necessary. What you do with the feedback you receive, is still entirely up to you.
Next Steps:
If you think a writing group may be just what you need, stay tuned for my next post. I will provide some advice on finding and/or starting a group of your very own.