Showing posts with label writers' groups. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writers' groups. Show all posts

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Writers' Groups


This piece was originally posted on Author Expressions in November 2011. I've reposted it here because I recently helped set up a writers' group at a local library. My role is to help the group get organized, build up its membership, and establish ground rules that will support the work of each member. The ultimate goal is for me to bow out and leave the group as a self-sustaining entity. As part of the introductory session I described the various kinds of groups, and the members moved towards the one that seemed most supportive and useful for them. The discussion was interesting and informative for me, so I've decided to reprint the essay I used as a springboard in my discussion.

A few weeks ago an acquaintance asked me for advice on setting up a writers' group. I immediately said, Sure. Then I paused and wondered, What kind of writers' group? My friend didn't know. I shouldn't have been surprised. Writers talk about their writers' groups usually with reverence and affection, but few actually describe what the group is like. As a result, most beginning or non writers think a writers' group is a writers' group is a writers' group. And they would be wrong.

Over the last forty plus years I have been in a variety of writers' groups, ranging from the informal two-person (actually two-woman support group for struggling dissertation writers only able to meet over lunch) to the large, highly structured group with strict membership requirements (and no nonsense whatsoever). But a few types stand out for the gratitude and affection I came to feel towards my fellow members, and these are the ones I described to my friend. This is not a definitive list, but a few suggestions for how to structure the coming-together of writers who want to help each other. These are roughly in chronological order.

First was the group of writers of all genres and all levels of publication history, including the writer who managed to get a contract for a nonfiction book about hikes in New England and then didn't look at the contract again until four months before the manuscript was due. She hadn't written a word. The purpose of this group turned out to be to provide massive amounts of encouragement and a small dose of envy for anyone who could get a contract and be so cavalier about deadlines. Another member sought information on a particular free-lance job, received highly specific warnings about avoiding this magazine at all costs, ignored them, and then received massive amounts of encouragement in suing the vendor who refused to pay her. If nothing else, this group was consistent. We were promiscuous in our praise and unstinting in our support and generally ignored all good advice.

The second group I attended seemed to be based on whom you had worked for. All genres were acceptable, including a few that had no names as yet. We all knew each other and our professional paths continued to cross. We were expected to show up with something to read at least every other week, and to take not longer than five or ten minutes. We were expected to listen attentively and offer suggestions for improvement. This was another support group but a little more discerning. It was rare that anyone said anything negative, but when someone did, we took it as a sign that we were ready to graduate and move on.

A third group was among the most structured, meeting once a month and requiring each writer to present a complete chapter or two (about 50 pages) for everyone to read beforehand, then listen without verbal response (eye rolling was allowed) as everyone else commented and discussed among themselves. At the end of this, if the writer was still able to speak and could stop biting his or her tongue, he or she could comment on the discussion and the specific points made. I lasted about a month (that's one meeting for those not following this discussion closely).

A variation on the third group requires that a writer send out by email or snail mail copies of whatever she or he wants to discuss at the weekly meeting, and then at the regular meeting each member can comment and discuss with other members including the writer whose work it is. No one is barred from speaking. All genres are acceptable.

A fourth group is probably the result of the first three. This group has a monitor, also a writer but one who does not participate in the readings and critiques. This person is expected to facilitate discussion, keep writers from acting out the crimes they are so graphically describing in their novels and short stories, and generally keep the group feeling positive and motivated and out of the clutches of the authorities.

These then are the four basic writers' groups. And while I might have had some unusual experiences as a writer when among other writers, I hasten to assure all you beginning writers our there that you will survive participation in a writers' group, you will learn a great deal, you will get that boost you need to finish your novel and then sell it. But in the process you will meet a few oddballs and hear some painful descriptions of your brilliant Pulitzer quality work. You may even wonder why you thought writing a novel was a good idea in the first place. But when you finally sell that novel, your writer group friends will bring a bottle of champagne, cheer you loudly, and you will know you really are a genius.

Saturday, August 31, 2013

If you're going to give advice . . .


(This post was originally published on Author Expressions, August 2, 2013. It generated so many interesting comments that I felt I should reprint it here.)

Everyone who writes at some point has the same experience. I finish a short story or a novel, go over it for the tenth or twentieth time, and print out a clean copy to give a friend to read. Perhaps I’ve been reading chapters to the members of my writing group as I go along, or perhaps I am a solitary writer with no group and a strong reluctance to share my work till I think it’s finished. But at some point it will be finished enough to share, and I will have to show it to someone. What I get in return can be significant.

A recent discussion on a chat list for writers touched on the problem of getting nothing but negative feedback from a first reader. The reader even went so far as to tell the writer to stop writing. The reaction of the other writers, including me, was that this negativity is not useful. It’s destructive and there’s no point in destroying a new writer’s dreams and determination. The discussion and comments reminded me of two things—my early efforts and how kind some of my first readers had been and a story I was asked to read by someone who thought he was destined to write the great American novel. In my opinion I didn’t think he could write a grocery list. I learned from both experiences how to make useful comments without judgment. (And I have always been grateful to the editors who were kind. When I look back at my early work . . .)

First, I ask the writer to describe the “aboutness” of the story. What is the story about? Tell me in one or two sentences. Don’t give me a plot summary—that’s different. Tell me what this story is for me as a reader. Some writers will never have thought about this, and it helps any writer focus on the story and what is or is not relevant in the telling of it.

Second, I ask about the opening line (and sometimes about the closing line). Where did it come from? What is it supposed to achieve? Is the writer satisfied with it? I’m almost never satisfied with my opening lines, but I sometimes am very happy with the closing lines. Are there alternatives that were discarded? Why?

Third, I try to find a sentence with an interesting or unusual word usage and ask about that. Why did he or she choose this word? What is the writer trying to achieve?

Fourth, if the story is a mystery or paranormal or science fiction, I try to ask relevant questions on structure and formula (I’m limited to mystery fiction mostly), and how the writer understands the formula.

Fifth, I might ask about characters’ names if there is anything unusual about them, or if too many characters are named Joe or Mary. I might also point out that the ethnic identities of the characters do or do not match the setting or story line.

I could go on, but you get the idea. There is nothing in any of my comments that is a judgment or an evaluation. Each comment is meant to take the reader and the writer deeper into understanding the story and the writer’s goals. This can be edifying for both writer and reader because getting another writer to articulate a way of viewing the world and trying to present it means that I have to stretch my thinking.

In addition, if I read something I think is awful and have to discuss it, I am forced to dig deeper, to reach beyond my prejudices and blinders. I have to listen to another writer’s reasons for doing something I probably wouldn’t have done. And I have to read with possibility in mind, with the idea that the writer is reaching for something. All of this makes me think harder.

Being asked to read someone else’s work is a compliment as well as a responsibility. Anyone who agrees to do so, therefore, is, in my view, obligated to provide something useful and productive to the writer. Offering up a visceral reaction isn’t enough, and that doesn’t count as any kind of thoughtful reading. There is nothing to be gained by telling a struggling writer that he can’t writer. I am well aware that the one person whom I think can’t write a phone message may turn out to be the next Scott Turow.