I always tell my students that in the goal of the workshop is not to fix the story, but to help bring the writer closet to their intentions.... even if the writer hasn't quite figured out what their intentions are, the clues are in story. I usually try to start by having everyone say what they think the story is about. And also, I tell them that in a successful workshop, the writer should walk away feeling excited to work on their story, and should have a pretty good idea of what they need to do next.
One thing that has been helpful is to ask people to limit their criticisms/suggestions to one thing.... although positive feedback can be limitless. (I wouldn't count small line-edit type feedback if it's the stuff that can be easily fixed, e.g. repetition, clarifying details, etc.) But basically, focusing on one issue seems to help students really think about the major thing the writer needs to look at next, and why that thing, and reduces a lot of overwhelm for the writer.
Yes, the best workshop experiences I've had made me want to immediately sit down and work on the piece! And I think specificity has a LOT to do with that.
I've never heard this advice before, but it makes perfect sense. After all, the author is trying to tell a story. They're not trying to please anyone but themselves (usually), so our job as the readers would be to get them closest to that story.
People who are really excellent at giving feedback and critique tend to understand this intuitively. But overall, it tends to make workshops a much better experience when everyone understands this, since it changes from a mish-mash of personal likes and dislikes and insecurities wrapped up in egos, to a collaborative exercise of talented writers trying to help each other bring out the best in each other's work.
But it runs the other way too, in that you don't have to pay attention to feedback that isn't helping you get closer to your own intentions. Sure, it never hurts to take a moment consider another perspective on the story to see if there's any gold in there, but if there isn't, no sense getting mired up in the feedback from someone who didn't get what you're trying to do.
It may be a smart take, but it's the wrong smart take for you.
Yeah. Everything is up there for us to use, it's up to us to choose what feedback to take, and what writing lessons we can use. When I learned that, that's when I began to really appreciate workshops.
Today is the last workshop of my MA so this couldn’t come at a better time! I often reflect on the workshop experience as it will probably be the last time in my life that I will have the opportunity to throw my work to a group of such varied readers and be gifted close readings on it.
That’s the highlight, for me. I have 10 people in a room, many of whom wouldn’t even pick up my book if they saw it in a store. Everyone has different likes, different pet peeves and come from incredibly varied walks of life. What a gift!
It has been incredibly positive 99% of the time and the other 1% has mostly stemmed from not being understood but that has also forced me to think: ‘why wasn’t what I was trying to do understood?’
There are also personality clashes, near arguments, actual arguments, strange comments made, ignorant comments made, it’s all par for the course and it’s all kind of wonderful. Sitting in a room so full of passion for literature, so passionate to help other people form their ideas.
I’ve made incredible friendships, gotten the most insanely helpful feedback and also been able to see if opinions were a general consensus, as opposed to just one person’s thoughts. It’s also been helpful with working through the devastating waves of imposter syndrome and general self doubt, as all of us have them, all of us live in the dark for a moment and then swing back.
Plus- I got to read an extra 9 books this year, work I never would have picked up to read otherwise. YA, sci fi, personal essays, how wonderful!
I know I will be reminiscent for this time in my life.
If you were, next adventure, packing to spend time a time to call your own, alone on a desert island and could only take a very limited amount of reading matter which, if the choice became binary, would you pack the three short story collections of the three novels?
That is such a difficult question, my goodness. My instant response was short stories because there would be more of them? But then there’s a question of immersion and wanting to drag something out, which you can do with a novel..
Thankfully you are not guest of the week on BBC Radio 4's long running 'Desert Island Discs' where in addition to the music selected you get to take away a copy of the bible and just one other book 😲 .
And, yes, it is a tricky decision I've invited you to make. Maybe the compromise might be to ask for plentiful pen and paper as your one allowed luxury? Then, when not spending every moment simply surviving, maybe your instant response might work out... all those short stories to immerse yourself in growing on and out to blossom as novels?
STOP PRESS And I 've just realised that I read - or the Gremlin running wild in my mind or could it have been an AI Bot running renegade on the words written on y PC screen - 'Emma' as 'Amber'... I would put it down to advancing age but that would be unfair to aging as I've been prone to such daft misreadings of words, thankfully only now and then, since I was but a boy 🤣
Yes it’s been brilliant! I only have just under a month until final hand-in. I’ve been doing it in person at the International Institute of Modern Letters at Victoria University. Highly recommend!
I enjoyed reading your short short 'Bitten'. That is, more accurately, I enjoyed reading your short short 'Bitten' Amber having used the clues spread through this thread to click, track, trace and check out your MA course. You are fine ambassador for you alma mater, no quibbling about it!
It is one of the things that is so strong about Story Club: making new connections through posted comments. Thanks.
Oh gosh I’m sorry Rob but that story doesn’t belong to me! I have work that has been shortlisted for competitions here in New Zealand and is scattered throughout various parts of the internet but I only started submitting/entering competitions under my own name this year and it hasn’t been anything substantial! In truth I desperately needed the confidence boost this MA has given me to even consider publishing work but hopefully next year I’ll be submitting my collection to publishers! Dependent on the feedback I get from the examiners etc.
The questioner asks this: “How can I be a more generous, helpful, honest, humble reader of other writers’ work-in-progress?” What a great question.
I am repeating myself from earlier posts on this same subject, but one tact I have taken is to tell the writer the things I’ve "noticed" in their piece. This removes the element of judgment. It's simply a recounting of what was noticed. This is similar to George’s color scheme, but I think it goes further than simply pointing out when the energy has gone south, or when I’ve been confused. A person can notice, for instance, that tension is building in the last third of a story, or that there seems to be no tension in the first third. A person can notice that the story seems to be about Jack and then seems to be about Jack’s wife. A person can notice that the ending came and it felt very sudden. A person can notice that they are reading breathlessly, because the plot is so compelling. Or that they lost track of things because their mind started to wander on page two. And on and on. In a workshop situation, if several people all “noticed” the same thing, that gives some very good feedback to the writer. If five out of eight people didn’t understand something, well, then, a writer would probably want to take a second look at that element.
Another strategy is to ask the writer specifically what it is they hope to know. Do they want you to tell them what you think the story is “about”? Do they want to know if the ending works? Do they want to know if or where you lost interest? Do they want to know if the voice is okay—or is it too charming or smarmy or whatever? Do they want a plot analysis? Responding specifically to what a writer wants takes off a lot of the pressure to respond ‘correctly.’ By following this tact, you can read a story you think is poorly written and not have to say, “this is poorly written.” You can just say, “you asked me if I got confused anywhere in the story, and no, I never did. Good job on that!”
In my files, I have these ideas written down for use when commenting on stories:
Say it's your opinion. Use: “I'm not sure but," "you might consider," "have you thought about," "another idea could be," "possibly," "maybe,"... "I felt ..." "It didn't work for me when ..." "I thought it would work better for me if..." "I'm not sure but ..." "Perhaps ..." "It strikes me that ..." "Maybe ..." "I didn't care for ..."
Mary, this is, as usual, great advice for you, offered so generously. Thanks. It brings up a question for me, or shall I say, I noticed that....I thought about peer reviews in my design profession. While I appreciate the consideration and gentleness of a careful critique, I also crave the knowledgable, hard edged, to the point comments of an another pro. "The entrance to the building is too constricted" vs. "Have you thought about whether you might have sort of wanted the entrance to, you know, be a little bigger or more inviting?" Just curious here what you and others think. I am always in favor of compassion and empathy, but I'm also a bit tired of the how sensitive everyone has become to any sort of discomfort. I think the fear of triggering has dumbed down a lot of useful, incisive critique. Again, not arguing in favor of being an asshole, just lamenting the loss of hard stones that can sharpen a blade to a razor's edge.
Kurt, I definitely give stronger critiques to certain writers who want that level of input, and who won't be hurt by it or angry at me. (Still, I do always ask what they're looking for when they ask me to read--and i stick to answering that.) Personally, I depend on several people to be brutally honest with me--people who are writers themselves, with opinions that I trust. Workshops are another matter entirely. It may be the first time a person ever shared their work. So you have to err on the side of gentleness. You have to "meet them where they are." I don't attend workshops anymore. I'm not a believer in sharing work in progress. Only finished drafts--and then only with my usual readers. And I'm not a fan of the model itself. I don't think I've ever had a piece improve after it's been workshopped by a group! That being said, many people get a lot out of them.
Makes perfect sense. The workshop is a tentative environment. The close friends and like minded pros things is different. It's fastball, while workshops are maybe softball?
Well, the workshop method definitely works for a lot of people. I'm sure the extremely talented students in George's workshops at Syracuse learn a ton. But they have the good fortune of being part of a cohort that includes some of the country's best emerging writers. Not to mention incredible instructors. So it really comes down to the workshop itself. Unless you're in a great program, attending a workshop is often kind of a crapshoot and can end up harming your writing and/or your motivation. So I've found my own methods to get feedback. Not sure if that's fastball vs softball, but I hope you get my point.
Mary! I just logged into Story Club for the first time in MONTHS, and I'm so happy to see some familiar faces are still here. Life has gotten in the way of making time for the Club, but I'm realizing I've been languishing a bit without it. I'm ready to jump back in!
(And I'm about to go see George on book tour here in Portland, so I'm thankful that came up to nudge me back over to this part of the internet.)
Sara! Nice to see you here again! Yes, people have come and gone, but good ol' mary g. remains..... It's been interesting to see the changes around here. Lots of the "regulars" have disappeared. Sometimes, I think it's time for me to hang it up and move on as well, but then George posts something interesting and I feel compelled to respond. I hope you get to say hello to him in person at Powell's. I think he lives here in LA most of the time now, so I have hopes of running into him one of these days. Happy you're back!
I’m in line to get my book signed now, so I’ll at least get to say a quick hello!
I was not joking about languishing since I’ve left Story Club. I do not recommend dropping off, dropping out, or otherwise leaving. It’s just the tonic needed to counteract all the terrible things and mean things and shallow things that make up so much of what we see each day.
I miss people who dropped off or maybe they're just lurking here. I did read a post by someone who said he began to have anxiety about posting here, about writing the wrong thing, or being taken the wrong way by someone.
Loved the Old Crew shout out Sea! I sometimes think there same thing. Have I stayed too long at this party? But, no way. It's just so good here, sharing, thinking, hangin' w/ the great GS and with you, Mary and the others. OMG. Too good. I'm not worthy.....
hahahaha! No worries! I always have a zillion errors because i hit post without re-reading. I think some of the old crew just needed a break maybe. From commenting. I get it. Sometimes it's more than enough to just read George's posts. For me, I can't really process ANYTHING without writing about it. So if i only read what George says, it goes right through my head--poof! No retention. But if I enter into the conversation, i retain it more easily. And by commenting, I can turn it over in my head and really ponder, which I love. But, yeah. Watching the regulars drop off can make me wonder what I'm still doing here--like maybe i should step aside and that would encourage others to comment...? I know that sometimes i basically "take over" around here--maybe that' s not always such a good thing. Not asking for any reply on my thoughts. I'm just processing. Like always. (And I do miss the old crew--they were so fun to interact with. Without meeting in person, I often feel/felt that i knew them in some way, you know? Old crew, if you're reading this: i miss you!)
Yeah, Old Crew! I don't think of your posts as "take over" because anyone can post anything, of any length, and we can chose to read or skim or not read at all.
A while back (Old Crew days) someone apologized for commenting, saying something like "English is my second language." I loved that person's post. Plus, they speak more than one language, so even better.
Thanks, Pips. I always adhere to my second tactic--of asking a writer what they want to know from me. It helps them, as well, to have to stop and think about that question. (I was once in a workshop where we were commenting on a short story. No one had told me that this was the writer's "final" draft. The writer was expecting comments that told her, yes, you've done it, it's ready. Well, I didn't know that! I thought it was a draft. And so i said what I thought, starting with the positive, as we always do, and then moving on toward where I thought the piece could use some work. The writer started weeping. And others, who had worked in previous workshops with this writer, were very angry. My comments weren't even negative--just the basic sorts of things you might say with a draft! I learned my lesson right there! Always ask what kind of comments are they looking for! That was a nightmare from well over a decade ago and i still haven't recovered!!!)
Hi, Mary. That sounds perfectly horrific as nightmares go. I've been thrown into a funk by commentary I've received but have yet to weep. Isn't one measure of our writerliness our ability to take a punch? When I weather a harsh critique and try to make something out of it, the results are usually good if not great. Once you've made that connection, all you want is a tougher hide and all it takes to develop a tougher hide is the wanting of it.
Oh, John, I still can't stand to think about it. It was so distressing. It was only much, much later that I realized the workshop leader shared at least some of the blame for the situation, as it was her job to be in charge of the group and let us know what the expectations were for workshopping. Unfortunately, the group turned on her as well. Honestly, it was pretty shocking. The thing is--I wasn't harsh! I didn't throw punches. I truly thought I was giving helpful feedback at the time. (I did contact the woman later and apologized and she said she understood where I was coming from. Still--I feel permanently scarred by the whole thing!)
Can you now amend the long-term effect from "scarred" to "reshaped" :-)? I was side swiped by "reality" once all too recently wherein—because it had to do with nothing less than the whole of my strategy to improve as a writer—I briefly felt like I was driven down a deep dark hole but when, about a month later, I came out of it, I had developed a whole new strategy to recover.
If only. No, I am scarred. It's something that plays over and over in my head--I think because i was so surprised by the whole thing. It left me shaken--that I had not perceived something going on in the moment; that i had not read the room properly. Or--worst of all--that perhaps I spoke with too much confidence, that i came off as a Miss-Know-It-All. And that perhaps I really was too full of myself in that workshop. I don't know. It's so far in the past now, it's time to give it up! But it has affected the way I respond to the work of others ever since, so I suppose that is an upside.
I recall a workshop from many years ago. Two students has been scheduled to present essays on the same day, months prior to their presentations. As it turned out, one student had written a personal essay about her grandparents, who had survived the Holocaust; the other student had written a personal essay about her grandfather, who had been in the SS. These two students--each struggling with inherited facts and truths--were able to speak openly to one another, through their work, and then in a deeper conversation, and to form a supportive relationship for the rest of the semester. The workshop became a unique bridge builder, a deeper way to connect where connection otherwise might not have occurred.
My best workshop experiences were with Buddy (Lewis) Nordan at the University of Pittsburgh--I believe because he always asked participants to begin their comments with the statement, "For me this is a story about ... because .../especially when ..." and possibly "For me, this story may also be about ... I sensed this especially when ...." Asking readers to ground their feedback in a reading of the story made all the difference and was remarkably difficult even though many of us came with plenty of training in talking this way in literature classes.
Is it me or do others working on novels (as opposed to short stories) find workshops sort of meh?
I feel that most drafts of novels need the most work on issues that aren't necessarily apparent from reading 2,500-5,000 words at a time or on a line-level, e.g., rising action/stakes across scenes as the story builds to the end of an act.
Also, oddly, although I read other people's work multiple times before providing feedback, I never do the same with a novel as a reader, so I'm often left feeling there's something artificial and, possibly, misguided in my comments.
For example, right now I'm reading Deacon King Kong by James McBride, and I'm basically along for the ride. If I sat down with any 10-20 page segment, read it multiple times, would I find dozens (and dozens) of lines to comment on? Of course. But I'm not certain any of those comments would improve the story or my enjoyment of it as a reader.
It may not fly in a 'formal' workshop, but for novels, what I've found more useful is workshopping a beat sheet. It's the scene by scene structural stuff that gets discussed then.
Adding an excerpt of the text for context, clarity, to make sure things are coming across as intended or just to give a flavour of the tone and writing is then more a useful addendum rather than the main piece.
But you're right about the limited value of looking at 2-5K words. In a more structured workshop, you could always ask to send around the best sheet to give context to the scene, and hopefully move the discussion around to the larger issues of the novel.
Sonal, I love this concept of extending workshop to beat sheets. Workshops aren't just limited to MFA students. I'm in a critique group with award-winning novelists.
That assumes that most students understand (and can provide useful input) on a "beat sheet."
(It seems to me) Most MFA programs do a woeful job in teaching aspiring writers about novel writing, in part, as I noted in another comment, there's a palpable disdain for "plot," like it's a contradiction of "art."
Yes, there will always be those people like Curtis Sittenfeld who will workshop their novels for two years and come out with something pretty darn great. But that's the exception, right? In general, if you're an aspiring Walter Mosley or James McBride or Liane Moriarty, you may struggle to find the feedback that you need to grow as a writer in you're seeking it in MFA workshops.
Workshopping a novel is incredibly difficult, for both parties. You're instinct is correct: most novels need work on issues that wouldn't be apparent in a 5000 or even a 10,000 word section. However, if you have a good friend that knows your work and sensibilities, then I could see some benefits in giving them a peek behind the curtain.
I agree Butterfield. As someone who has never done an MFA, been in a writer's group (until a year ago) or a worksop apart from one week in 1983 I never shared my work with anyone. That changed when an editor suggested that I get a friend to read the m/s of a novel, which I did. The friend gave helpful advice (he was used to working with playwrights) and I basically re-wrote the whole novel.
That took a long time for various reasons. Since that incident I have sent work to two trusted writer friends who give excellent feedback. I'm really happy now also to be in a small writing group. My fellow writers' perspectives have really helped me see my work more clearly. I wish I had done all this a long time ago!!
I have dipped into a workshop that was specifically for working on novels. Everyone was working on a novel and they met every week and went through everyone’s book. It works in that context brilliantly and is also highly motivating!
I agree! With short stories, I love critical feedback. I seriously desire brutal honesty. But with a novel...not so much. I believe this relates to the slower meandering process of the 'hard-at-work subconscious.' Feedback for 20 pages of a novel, without knowledge of the rest of it, can make me stumble and lose the brain snapping excitement that (hopefully) carries me through to the end.
I think there's also something to be said that in many MFA programs plot is often treated as a dirty word.
It's sort of odd when you think about it. The market for short stories is essentially non-existent. Very few writers are making a living solely on their writing as it is. Are there any (these days) doing it solely by publishing short stories? Yet, the overwhelming emphasis in MFA programs is on short stories. Why is that? Why aren't more MFA programs teaching the next generation of Brett Easton Ellis or Elmore Leonard or John Green?
EDIT: I'm not necessarily saying commercially successful writing should be the focus of MFA programs. However, I don't understand why so many actively cultivate disdain for writers who excel at storytelling and can actually make a living from their writing (rather than producing "art" while being dependent on a spouse or another job or teaching).
Said differently, yes, Anna Karenina is brilliant in many ways. But I would never hand it to an aspiring novelist as a primer on how to learn the craft.
Bottom line: while the classics may be brilliant, few, if any, (including Anna Karenina) would be published as is today.
I suspect it might be because short stories are quicker to read, so give the opportunity for more feedback; and you have more opportunities to fail.
There's a story of a pottery class where the teacher told the class that half of them would get a mark based on the quality of their final piece, the other half on the total weight of pots they made. The latter didn't only produce more work (as you'd expect); the work they ended up doing was of a much higher standard than those graded only on their final piece.
I agree with you, as someone who submits novels and short stories to workshops. The problem with workshopping novels is that if you go past the first chapter or two, you have to feed the book in small segments to the writing group, and the emotion and tension of the novel will fade between sessions.
Haven't had the pleasure of a novel workshop so I couldn't say for sure, but I think looking at things piece by piece could be helpful. It's sort of what I'm trying to do now, albeit on my own.
The best workshop experience I ever had was with a group who had always wanted to write but never dared. One was a security guard at a prison , one was a community nurse and one was a senior who told a riveting atory about being in an air raid shelter. The prompt I gave was the smell of oranges. They were all excellent storytellers. Did they become published best selling writers? No but one did air her piece on radio. . Creating space for stories to be heard ... I realize creating space as important as feedback. If that makes sense. The other participants' feedback seemed more useful than mine. As a student ... When I feel defensive I know they've zeroed in on the part I am struggling with so I try to lean in to that. But kindness matters. Best compliment as workshop teacher from a grade six "reluctant" writer was this : Miss, when was rightin in your clas I culd feel the jus in my mind. (: ah!!!!
I love this “when I’m defensive I realise they zoomed in on a part that I am struggling with” that’s so me and I should probably use that to my advantage to think more about the comments I know are right but don’t want to be.
I love this question! First I’d like to share a recent workshop experience I loved, then a question.
I recently attended a Work In Progress dance show with a feedback element which was handled so beautifully and left me inspired and curious to re-enact. Two artists showed half hour pieces followed by a half hour discussion led by the woman who put on the event. There was clear intention, vulnerability and honesty in the way the workshop was led and how we were meant to watch and respond to the works.
We were asked to feel in our bodies where the pieces impacted us and to hold back our critical brains bc the pieces were not at a space for that at this time. There were three elements to it (1) the facilitator shared her reaction and asked the artists questions (2) the audience or “responders” shared what they felt in their body, in what specific place at what specific moment in the show (3) the artists asked one question to the audience for us to answer critically and this was where we were allowed to share opinions. (This is me roughly remembering how it went)
This was the first time I’ve participated in such a thoughtful workshop/feedback experience and it felt exciting to here what the audience had to say and what I felt and wanted to say. I find live performance workshops to often be off putting or veer into pointlessness. This felt so open and freeing for the audience and artists. It expanded my mind on how to respond and how to watch the art as it happened. I found myself thinking about the dance pieces as I drove home and stayed up telling my partner about what I saw and felt and thought. This show I think will stay with me forever.
The feedback/artist/facilitator model was based on some style or approach popular in academia or those that study dance. Not sure the name of it.
I loved this method for live performance and am curious if there is a methodology like this that is the inspiration for the writing workshop? These specific railings for watching/responding made the feedback portion of the show just as enjoyable as watching the art itself.
Ok and lastly someone said a thing recently that resonated with me : that people wait too long to get feedback. Getting feedback is hard bc it’s inviting criticism or judgment and it’s scary! I’m curious how you all mitigate sharing something when it’s rough or when you know it’s early but outside eyes could help. How do you curate the feedback you need?
A really important question. I'm in the process of shifting from sharing portions of my work (I'm a playwright), to submitting a complete, but very rough draft of my next play (at least, that's the intention). Partly, this is because I need to get quicker at writing, and polishing and re-polishing the first 10 pages umpteen times before moving on is simply too inefficient. It also means I can lose sight / sense of the impulse that made me want to write the play in the first place.
I'm hoping that, by submitting a complete draft, there'll be more of a sense for the reader of tone as well as plot.
I'm also ditching writing so many different permutations of the story. I'm getting roughly 10% of the words written per day, but a far higher proportion of those words are worth keeping.
I found workshop to be so wildly energizing really--it was my favorite part of the program--because the combined collaboration of a group of writers and readers talking together and bringing their experiences--particularly when the mentorship/teacher is adept at drawing out and keeping people on specifics as you say--is so interesting, like cubism in action, examining different aspects and flipping them around as we all talk and think. And I really love that you point out that there are not "issues" to fix per se--and that often the things that feel like flaws can often become the strengths of a piece, and what makes the writer's voice distinct. There's a Jean Cocteau quote to that end that I always get wrong but that has stayed with me--that "What the public criticizes in you, cultivate. It is you." It's why, as you say, it is not so much about "issues" to correct, but to find the things that crack open on the page, and may not always work, but that's where the writer is often getting to something true.
Perhaps this is odd and can’t be generalized, but I’m in a workshop that reads half of one participant’s novel at once and then comments. In this way, a better overall view is possible and comments can be made about pacing--which is the problem I most often see. And the format leads to interesting, more personalized discussion. Recently we discussed whether one of my characters in a multiple POV novel deserved to have a POV. It was quite enlightening and is helping me with that character’s portrayal.
Bit late to this conversation but, as a 2nd year MA student, I've spent a lot of time wondering about the workshop process. Firstly, it's super useful and I have been lucky enough to work with a supportive and sensitive bunch of students who have helped me develop my work and even told me what it's about - and I mean that. Hidden themes are picked up that I hadn't even known I was themeing! My main point would be to keep your faith. It is too easy to believe that your work isn't good enough or clever enough or literary enough, especially when being critiqued by so many. I've found the trick is to thank everyone for their time, to really listen and to be honest with yourself. Without fail, every workshop, comments are made on the bits that I just knew weren't landing but thought I could get away with. Workshops are a great tool, a great way of learning about writing through the work of others, a fantastic way to understand your own work better. But they are just a part of the creative process. Be strong, take away what is useful to you and what will make your voice sing louder. And don't compare your work to the others - no, no, no. Never do that.
I can echo that sense of discovery when someone points out a theme / meaning of a piece of writing. Even established writers can benefit from that sort of astute reading. I write for theatre, where there is the professional role of 'dramaturg', and I've benefitted hugely from the inputs of at least three different really, really good dramaturgs.
I've read there can also be dramaturgs in film, though it's a field I know little about.
Some people are a bit sceptical if the dramaturg has no experience of playwriting; but, as the role is the equivalent of a writing 'midwife', I don't find this to be a deciding factor on whether a specific dramaturg is good or not. In fact, there being some sort of affinity between the writer and dramaturg seems far more important.
My first writing workshop was also my best experience with the form. I studied literature in college and decided I wanted to try writing fiction and poetry in my last semester of undergrad. Most of my required classes were finished, so my course load was a literature capstone, an ice skating class, and a writing workshop. (Typing that brought on a rush of newfound appreciation for that time in my life.) The teacher for the course was a poet, somewhat well-known, with a few books and some poems published in the New Yorker. On the first day, he encouraged us to call him Coach, and went on to explain that his approach to these workshops was to encourage all of us to write in our own way and that reading and practices (walking in the woods, being attentive to our senses) would support our development as writers. I don't know if this approach would work for every teacher, but it felt like an authentic expression of his being. He was warm and gregarious and the class felt like a place where our writing and our ideas about writing were accepted and treated with care. What I loved most about that workshop was the loving assertiveness of Coach R. He let us go on some tangents but let us know how to come back to the story or poem that would be of benefit to the writer. There's some vague recollections of this done with loving humor. I've gone back and read what I wrote for that class. I cringe at the earnestness of that new writer but also see in the writing a risk-taking (it doesn't seem like it at the time) that comes from a beginner's efforts, and I feel especially grateful that I sat in classroom with a teacher (coach) who oriented us to what was best and unique in our work and encouraged us to continue our efforts.
First of all, I’d like to say I wish I’d workshopped with Mr. Saunders. But unfortunately, the workshops I attended never guided the students, but ended up being a free-for-all for criticism. When I first began to write I took extension classes at the U of Minnesota and the Loft in Minneapolis. At least a couple of those classes were taught by published authors and structured on the traditional workshop model. I also was a member of a few informal writing groups and we also critiqued using that model. The workshop model encouraged the participants to find flaws, and since most of us were beginners, I began to question the value of theirs and my critiques. I came away from the workshopping with some good lessons learned and many faulty ideas about writing it’s taken me years to get rid of.
When I first began writing my very long novel (which has become meta-fictional) I was introduced, by a common friend, to a man who was also writing a novel. She thought we might like to meet and discuss our writing and we agreed. We met monthly for over two years, taking turns discussing a chapter of each of our works. The meetings with my writing buddy mostly taught me to trust my own intuition. I’d often get ideas for the scenes I was writing and then, because I thought it wasn’t the right way to write it, I’d leave it out. In other words, I was inhibited and feared doing something wrong. But when I met with my writing buddy, he’d often tell me I could have done more with the scene. I’d tell him the ideas I’d thought weren’t good enough and he’d say that was what was needed. Over time, I realized my intuitive imagination, or what Mr. Saunders calls the subconscious needs to guide my writing, and now I follow its leads. So, that was the most important lesson I ever learned. When I moved to Colorado, my writing buddy and I talked by the phone a few times, but he stepped away from writing, and at that point, I no longer wanted to share my writing with anyone. I knew I had to find my own way, as weird as it may be.
Now, when friends ask me to read and critique something they’ve written, if I feel something isn’t being said, I ask what they want to say in this scene, and often I tell them, ‘Yes, that’s what you need to write. Now write down everything you just told me and incorporate your passion for it in the story.’
It seems that many creative people in different fields have (at least) two modes of working, sometimes called 'forming' and 'norming'.
The former tends to work best when there is no critical analysis, just a generation of material; the second is a more analytical reshaping of the material.
Any two individual may swap between modes at different frequencies, and spend different amounts of time in each mode.
The approach can help avoid issues such as ditching a creative idea because the rational side doesn't yet know why it's significant, or why it's there at all.
Absolutely. Thanks for analyzing my comment (I'm not being ironic). Generation of material, followed by reshaping the material is a good way to look at the creative process. But I'll add that even in that analytical reshaping, the intuitive voice comes into play. When I tell a friend to incorporate their passion for what they want to say, I leave it to them to break it into dialogue, action, descriptive gestures, character's thoughts, etc. Even in that reshaping we can listen for guidance from the imagination, the subconscious. And then, there may be more reshaping....and so the circle goes round and round.
What is my process? Funny you should ask. Every time I read a good book, I want to ask the author, what’s your process? I even want to ask my 16 year old granddaughter who is a terrific writer. Sometimes it just pours out. I tell myself, first you write a sentence, and the scene may unfold. After that, of course, it needs extensive revision. Once I wrote a story in which my character was drowning. A friend told me she once had almost drowned, so I asked her to tell me about it, as I took notes, and then worked that description into the writing. Right now though, its more complicated. I want my characters to discuss how some stories are forgotten (theirs) and others are remembered (the victors), so I’m culling thoughts from my journal that I’d had written on storytelling, and am copying them into some kind of sequence (that must be the analytical part), and the characters will discuss forgetting and remembering (I’m sorry but do get a bit pedantic at times) in another chapter. After I get most of those ideas onto the ‘page’ then I’ll let the more intuitive part of me play with the pieces until they sing. I’ll change words, sentence construction, move them around, cut, paste, add bits and pieces here and there.
My process of revision is pretty much the same as Mr. Saunders describes. Where I differ from his process is that I like to write to the end to get the feeling for the story and then revise. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve revised these chapters. I simply don’t know. When I’m revising sentences, though that may be more analytic, I like my text to flow smoothly from one sentence to another, and that also informs the process. So, yes, Yin and Yang flowing into one another. Well, that was fun. Thanks for asking.
Should "friends" ever, sensibly "ask me to read and critique something they’ve written" strikes me as a question yo may have had occasion to consider Joan. Have you?
I really appreciate the details in your suggestions as to how to best help the writer understand where their voice is clear and engaging, and where it wanes for you, in a much more diplomatic way.
In one of my workshops, I discovered that for me, it was important for me to try and follow the story that I felt was there. I thought the story was often getting lost by distractions which were clearly meaningful for the writer personally, but not meaningful for the story. At that time, I decided I should act more as an advocate for the story, rather than for the writer, when the two were no longer in congruence. But the trick was how to do that without being too heavy handed. I didn't have a good grasp on how to put the story first without alienating the writer. I like your suggestions. Are they shareable?
In terms of best workshop experiences, it’s hard to beat the heady high of my first MFA workshop. I think a lot of my workshop experiences before that tended toward general praise and less rigor in terms of constructive feedback (just my experience, there are MANY great workshops not attached to the MFA model).
The worst was a workshop that operated under the “gag rule” where the writer is not allowed to speak. My workshop was discussing a story where I had made an error in writing what day of the week something had happened and it devolved into a lengthy discussion about the chronology of events that lasted for what felt like hours. In hindsight, it was very generous of them to make such an effort to wrestle with all the different things I could have meant, but it was deeply unpleasant to have all that discussion happen only for me to say “that was a typo.”
It did teach me two things: sometimes when we are trying to push a story toward achieving its highest self, we can lose sight of crucial, foundational details. Also, read your story out loud to yourself before you submit it for workshop.
Oh I hate that "gag rule" nonsense. Imagine any other field -- coaching tennis, teaching violin -- where the student can't ask questions. I mean, I get the premise, that the work has to be able to stand on its own with readers, and that it might be useful to be privy to initial reader responses, but I find it much more helpful when I can also participate in the discussion, ask for help where I feel I need it. That "typo" moment is hilarious -- thank you for that.
I workshopped the same first two chapters of a novel-in-progress at a writer's conference with two different instructors in subsequent years. The first instructor loved my work, said it was "terrific"; other participants also liked my work (they brought me cupcakes for my birthday). The following year, a different instructor hated my work (same two novel chapters, mind you). Her criticism was blistering; she said it was not a book she would ever buy. Of course, she later admitted, when we bumped into each other in the restroom, that she'd mixed my piece up with another participant's story that opened with a long, graphic rape scene straight out of a Dirty Harry movie. I was too embarrassed to go back to workshop and hid in my hotel room for the duration of the conference. Thing is, neither workshop led to me finishing my novel (I still have hope). Some years later, those same two chapters (I need some new material) got me into the Sewanee conference, so they couldn't be all bad.
That's a horriffic story Pips. That moderator had no right being in that position or saying those things. I hope she apologised publicly and explained her error to the group. I'm all for honesty but that criticism was egregious no matter which story she was commenting on. There's always a better way to say something. If she had such strong feelings about the other story she should have spoken quietly to its author afterwards.
Thanks, Aisling. I appreciate the support. For better or worse, I didn't go back to the workshop. I mostly just hid in my room the rest of the week. Sadly no one came by to say hello or see how I was doing. One guy emailed asking if I could still send him my feedback on his work! (Gets better and better, don't it?) I didn't want the whole experience to rattle me like that, but it did for quite awhile. I agree, I don't think the leader was in the right mindset to run the workshop. Apparently her mother had passed away recently.
I always tell my students that in the goal of the workshop is not to fix the story, but to help bring the writer closet to their intentions.... even if the writer hasn't quite figured out what their intentions are, the clues are in story. I usually try to start by having everyone say what they think the story is about. And also, I tell them that in a successful workshop, the writer should walk away feeling excited to work on their story, and should have a pretty good idea of what they need to do next.
One thing that has been helpful is to ask people to limit their criticisms/suggestions to one thing.... although positive feedback can be limitless. (I wouldn't count small line-edit type feedback if it's the stuff that can be easily fixed, e.g. repetition, clarifying details, etc.) But basically, focusing on one issue seems to help students really think about the major thing the writer needs to look at next, and why that thing, and reduces a lot of overwhelm for the writer.
Very good advice, yes.👍👍
The George Saunders said my advice was good?!? Oh my... I have to go faint now.
You must be a wonderful teacher.
I didn't think I could faint when I've already fainted but apparently it's happening. Thank you!
Then I won't say any more. :)
Please don't let my fainting stop you from saying nice things about me.
Yes, the best workshop experiences I've had made me want to immediately sit down and work on the piece! And I think specificity has a LOT to do with that.
I've never heard this advice before, but it makes perfect sense. After all, the author is trying to tell a story. They're not trying to please anyone but themselves (usually), so our job as the readers would be to get them closest to that story.
People who are really excellent at giving feedback and critique tend to understand this intuitively. But overall, it tends to make workshops a much better experience when everyone understands this, since it changes from a mish-mash of personal likes and dislikes and insecurities wrapped up in egos, to a collaborative exercise of talented writers trying to help each other bring out the best in each other's work.
But it runs the other way too, in that you don't have to pay attention to feedback that isn't helping you get closer to your own intentions. Sure, it never hurts to take a moment consider another perspective on the story to see if there's any gold in there, but if there isn't, no sense getting mired up in the feedback from someone who didn't get what you're trying to do.
It may be a smart take, but it's the wrong smart take for you.
Yeah. Everything is up there for us to use, it's up to us to choose what feedback to take, and what writing lessons we can use. When I learned that, that's when I began to really appreciate workshops.
Today is the last workshop of my MA so this couldn’t come at a better time! I often reflect on the workshop experience as it will probably be the last time in my life that I will have the opportunity to throw my work to a group of such varied readers and be gifted close readings on it.
That’s the highlight, for me. I have 10 people in a room, many of whom wouldn’t even pick up my book if they saw it in a store. Everyone has different likes, different pet peeves and come from incredibly varied walks of life. What a gift!
It has been incredibly positive 99% of the time and the other 1% has mostly stemmed from not being understood but that has also forced me to think: ‘why wasn’t what I was trying to do understood?’
There are also personality clashes, near arguments, actual arguments, strange comments made, ignorant comments made, it’s all par for the course and it’s all kind of wonderful. Sitting in a room so full of passion for literature, so passionate to help other people form their ideas.
I’ve made incredible friendships, gotten the most insanely helpful feedback and also been able to see if opinions were a general consensus, as opposed to just one person’s thoughts. It’s also been helpful with working through the devastating waves of imposter syndrome and general self doubt, as all of us have them, all of us live in the dark for a moment and then swing back.
Plus- I got to read an extra 9 books this year, work I never would have picked up to read otherwise. YA, sci fi, personal essays, how wonderful!
I know I will be reminiscent for this time in my life.
Congratulations!
Thank you very much!
Are your "extra 9 books" all volumes of short fiction Amber?
3 short fiction collections and 6 novels!
If you were, next adventure, packing to spend time a time to call your own, alone on a desert island and could only take a very limited amount of reading matter which, if the choice became binary, would you pack the three short story collections of the three novels?
That is such a difficult question, my goodness. My instant response was short stories because there would be more of them? But then there’s a question of immersion and wanting to drag something out, which you can do with a novel..
Thankfully you are not guest of the week on BBC Radio 4's long running 'Desert Island Discs' where in addition to the music selected you get to take away a copy of the bible and just one other book 😲 .
And, yes, it is a tricky decision I've invited you to make. Maybe the compromise might be to ask for plentiful pen and paper as your one allowed luxury? Then, when not spending every moment simply surviving, maybe your instant response might work out... all those short stories to immerse yourself in growing on and out to blossom as novels?
STOP PRESS And I 've just realised that I read - or the Gremlin running wild in my mind or could it have been an AI Bot running renegade on the words written on y PC screen - 'Emma' as 'Amber'... I would put it down to advancing age but that would be unfair to aging as I've been prone to such daft misreadings of words, thankfully only now and then, since I was but a boy 🤣
What program? 😊
Creative Writing, Fiction stream. I’m doing short fiction :) I’m in Wellington, New Zealand so the dates are a bit different from elsewhere I think.
Wonderful. And you are enjoying it so far? What is the school? Online? I’m curious because I may do an MFA someday 😊
Yes it’s been brilliant! I only have just under a month until final hand-in. I’ve been doing it in person at the International Institute of Modern Letters at Victoria University. Highly recommend!
I enjoyed reading your short short 'Bitten'. That is, more accurately, I enjoyed reading your short short 'Bitten' Amber having used the clues spread through this thread to click, track, trace and check out your MA course. You are fine ambassador for you alma mater, no quibbling about it!
It is one of the things that is so strong about Story Club: making new connections through posted comments. Thanks.
Oh gosh I’m sorry Rob but that story doesn’t belong to me! I have work that has been shortlisted for competitions here in New Zealand and is scattered throughout various parts of the internet but I only started submitting/entering competitions under my own name this year and it hasn’t been anything substantial! In truth I desperately needed the confidence boost this MA has given me to even consider publishing work but hopefully next year I’ll be submitting my collection to publishers! Dependent on the feedback I get from the examiners etc.
The questioner asks this: “How can I be a more generous, helpful, honest, humble reader of other writers’ work-in-progress?” What a great question.
I am repeating myself from earlier posts on this same subject, but one tact I have taken is to tell the writer the things I’ve "noticed" in their piece. This removes the element of judgment. It's simply a recounting of what was noticed. This is similar to George’s color scheme, but I think it goes further than simply pointing out when the energy has gone south, or when I’ve been confused. A person can notice, for instance, that tension is building in the last third of a story, or that there seems to be no tension in the first third. A person can notice that the story seems to be about Jack and then seems to be about Jack’s wife. A person can notice that the ending came and it felt very sudden. A person can notice that they are reading breathlessly, because the plot is so compelling. Or that they lost track of things because their mind started to wander on page two. And on and on. In a workshop situation, if several people all “noticed” the same thing, that gives some very good feedback to the writer. If five out of eight people didn’t understand something, well, then, a writer would probably want to take a second look at that element.
Another strategy is to ask the writer specifically what it is they hope to know. Do they want you to tell them what you think the story is “about”? Do they want to know if the ending works? Do they want to know if or where you lost interest? Do they want to know if the voice is okay—or is it too charming or smarmy or whatever? Do they want a plot analysis? Responding specifically to what a writer wants takes off a lot of the pressure to respond ‘correctly.’ By following this tact, you can read a story you think is poorly written and not have to say, “this is poorly written.” You can just say, “you asked me if I got confused anywhere in the story, and no, I never did. Good job on that!”
In my files, I have these ideas written down for use when commenting on stories:
Say it's your opinion. Use: “I'm not sure but," "you might consider," "have you thought about," "another idea could be," "possibly," "maybe,"... "I felt ..." "It didn't work for me when ..." "I thought it would work better for me if..." "I'm not sure but ..." "Perhaps ..." "It strikes me that ..." "Maybe ..." "I didn't care for ..."
Mary, this is, as usual, great advice for you, offered so generously. Thanks. It brings up a question for me, or shall I say, I noticed that....I thought about peer reviews in my design profession. While I appreciate the consideration and gentleness of a careful critique, I also crave the knowledgable, hard edged, to the point comments of an another pro. "The entrance to the building is too constricted" vs. "Have you thought about whether you might have sort of wanted the entrance to, you know, be a little bigger or more inviting?" Just curious here what you and others think. I am always in favor of compassion and empathy, but I'm also a bit tired of the how sensitive everyone has become to any sort of discomfort. I think the fear of triggering has dumbed down a lot of useful, incisive critique. Again, not arguing in favor of being an asshole, just lamenting the loss of hard stones that can sharpen a blade to a razor's edge.
Kurt, I definitely give stronger critiques to certain writers who want that level of input, and who won't be hurt by it or angry at me. (Still, I do always ask what they're looking for when they ask me to read--and i stick to answering that.) Personally, I depend on several people to be brutally honest with me--people who are writers themselves, with opinions that I trust. Workshops are another matter entirely. It may be the first time a person ever shared their work. So you have to err on the side of gentleness. You have to "meet them where they are." I don't attend workshops anymore. I'm not a believer in sharing work in progress. Only finished drafts--and then only with my usual readers. And I'm not a fan of the model itself. I don't think I've ever had a piece improve after it's been workshopped by a group! That being said, many people get a lot out of them.
Makes perfect sense. The workshop is a tentative environment. The close friends and like minded pros things is different. It's fastball, while workshops are maybe softball?
Well, the workshop method definitely works for a lot of people. I'm sure the extremely talented students in George's workshops at Syracuse learn a ton. But they have the good fortune of being part of a cohort that includes some of the country's best emerging writers. Not to mention incredible instructors. So it really comes down to the workshop itself. Unless you're in a great program, attending a workshop is often kind of a crapshoot and can end up harming your writing and/or your motivation. So I've found my own methods to get feedback. Not sure if that's fastball vs softball, but I hope you get my point.
All great points. Thanks!
Genial Mary, simply, honestly, purely genial.
Thank you.
Thank you, Rob!
Mary! I just logged into Story Club for the first time in MONTHS, and I'm so happy to see some familiar faces are still here. Life has gotten in the way of making time for the Club, but I'm realizing I've been languishing a bit without it. I'm ready to jump back in!
(And I'm about to go see George on book tour here in Portland, so I'm thankful that came up to nudge me back over to this part of the internet.)
Sara! Nice to see you here again! Yes, people have come and gone, but good ol' mary g. remains..... It's been interesting to see the changes around here. Lots of the "regulars" have disappeared. Sometimes, I think it's time for me to hang it up and move on as well, but then George posts something interesting and I feel compelled to respond. I hope you get to say hello to him in person at Powell's. I think he lives here in LA most of the time now, so I have hopes of running into him one of these days. Happy you're back!
I’m in line to get my book signed now, so I’ll at least get to say a quick hello!
I was not joking about languishing since I’ve left Story Club. I do not recommend dropping off, dropping out, or otherwise leaving. It’s just the tonic needed to counteract all the terrible things and mean things and shallow things that make up so much of what we see each day.
I’m going to try my best to keep up!
I miss people who dropped off or maybe they're just lurking here. I did read a post by someone who said he began to have anxiety about posting here, about writing the wrong thing, or being taken the wrong way by someone.
Now I have anxiety about my typos.
Loved the Old Crew shout out Sea! I sometimes think there same thing. Have I stayed too long at this party? But, no way. It's just so good here, sharing, thinking, hangin' w/ the great GS and with you, Mary and the others. OMG. Too good. I'm not worthy.....
It is OMG too good. Just read "The Jilting of Granny..." and came back here to see your comment.
hahahaha! No worries! I always have a zillion errors because i hit post without re-reading. I think some of the old crew just needed a break maybe. From commenting. I get it. Sometimes it's more than enough to just read George's posts. For me, I can't really process ANYTHING without writing about it. So if i only read what George says, it goes right through my head--poof! No retention. But if I enter into the conversation, i retain it more easily. And by commenting, I can turn it over in my head and really ponder, which I love. But, yeah. Watching the regulars drop off can make me wonder what I'm still doing here--like maybe i should step aside and that would encourage others to comment...? I know that sometimes i basically "take over" around here--maybe that' s not always such a good thing. Not asking for any reply on my thoughts. I'm just processing. Like always. (And I do miss the old crew--they were so fun to interact with. Without meeting in person, I often feel/felt that i knew them in some way, you know? Old crew, if you're reading this: i miss you!)
Yeah, Old Crew! I don't think of your posts as "take over" because anyone can post anything, of any length, and we can chose to read or skim or not read at all.
A while back (Old Crew days) someone apologized for commenting, saying something like "English is my second language." I loved that person's post. Plus, they speak more than one language, so even better.
I’m new to reading the comments. I am behind on everything. I hope you continue to comment, Mary G.
Any sign of Manami around here these days? I hope she is still lurking, if not posting.
And I feel the same about feeling like I knew the Old Crew without actually knowing you guys. I have missed the camaraderie!
Hi Sara! Good to see you again.
Yay! Hi!
So helpful, Mary G. Thank you.
I love this, Mary -- share what you notice, ask writers what they'd like to know. Terrific.
Thanks, Pips. I always adhere to my second tactic--of asking a writer what they want to know from me. It helps them, as well, to have to stop and think about that question. (I was once in a workshop where we were commenting on a short story. No one had told me that this was the writer's "final" draft. The writer was expecting comments that told her, yes, you've done it, it's ready. Well, I didn't know that! I thought it was a draft. And so i said what I thought, starting with the positive, as we always do, and then moving on toward where I thought the piece could use some work. The writer started weeping. And others, who had worked in previous workshops with this writer, were very angry. My comments weren't even negative--just the basic sorts of things you might say with a draft! I learned my lesson right there! Always ask what kind of comments are they looking for! That was a nightmare from well over a decade ago and i still haven't recovered!!!)
Oh man, sounds intense. I can see you meant well. I would've done the same, unless the writer asked for kid gloves. You sound like a sensitive reader.
Hi, Mary. That sounds perfectly horrific as nightmares go. I've been thrown into a funk by commentary I've received but have yet to weep. Isn't one measure of our writerliness our ability to take a punch? When I weather a harsh critique and try to make something out of it, the results are usually good if not great. Once you've made that connection, all you want is a tougher hide and all it takes to develop a tougher hide is the wanting of it.
Oh, John, I still can't stand to think about it. It was so distressing. It was only much, much later that I realized the workshop leader shared at least some of the blame for the situation, as it was her job to be in charge of the group and let us know what the expectations were for workshopping. Unfortunately, the group turned on her as well. Honestly, it was pretty shocking. The thing is--I wasn't harsh! I didn't throw punches. I truly thought I was giving helpful feedback at the time. (I did contact the woman later and apologized and she said she understood where I was coming from. Still--I feel permanently scarred by the whole thing!)
Can you now amend the long-term effect from "scarred" to "reshaped" :-)? I was side swiped by "reality" once all too recently wherein—because it had to do with nothing less than the whole of my strategy to improve as a writer—I briefly felt like I was driven down a deep dark hole but when, about a month later, I came out of it, I had developed a whole new strategy to recover.
If only. No, I am scarred. It's something that plays over and over in my head--I think because i was so surprised by the whole thing. It left me shaken--that I had not perceived something going on in the moment; that i had not read the room properly. Or--worst of all--that perhaps I spoke with too much confidence, that i came off as a Miss-Know-It-All. And that perhaps I really was too full of myself in that workshop. I don't know. It's so far in the past now, it's time to give it up! But it has affected the way I respond to the work of others ever since, so I suppose that is an upside.
I recall a workshop from many years ago. Two students has been scheduled to present essays on the same day, months prior to their presentations. As it turned out, one student had written a personal essay about her grandparents, who had survived the Holocaust; the other student had written a personal essay about her grandfather, who had been in the SS. These two students--each struggling with inherited facts and truths--were able to speak openly to one another, through their work, and then in a deeper conversation, and to form a supportive relationship for the rest of the semester. The workshop became a unique bridge builder, a deeper way to connect where connection otherwise might not have occurred.
Wow!
My best workshop experiences were with Buddy (Lewis) Nordan at the University of Pittsburgh--I believe because he always asked participants to begin their comments with the statement, "For me this is a story about ... because .../especially when ..." and possibly "For me, this story may also be about ... I sensed this especially when ...." Asking readers to ground their feedback in a reading of the story made all the difference and was remarkably difficult even though many of us came with plenty of training in talking this way in literature classes.
Yes! And more about this next week.
Is it me or do others working on novels (as opposed to short stories) find workshops sort of meh?
I feel that most drafts of novels need the most work on issues that aren't necessarily apparent from reading 2,500-5,000 words at a time or on a line-level, e.g., rising action/stakes across scenes as the story builds to the end of an act.
Also, oddly, although I read other people's work multiple times before providing feedback, I never do the same with a novel as a reader, so I'm often left feeling there's something artificial and, possibly, misguided in my comments.
For example, right now I'm reading Deacon King Kong by James McBride, and I'm basically along for the ride. If I sat down with any 10-20 page segment, read it multiple times, would I find dozens (and dozens) of lines to comment on? Of course. But I'm not certain any of those comments would improve the story or my enjoyment of it as a reader.
It may not fly in a 'formal' workshop, but for novels, what I've found more useful is workshopping a beat sheet. It's the scene by scene structural stuff that gets discussed then.
Adding an excerpt of the text for context, clarity, to make sure things are coming across as intended or just to give a flavour of the tone and writing is then more a useful addendum rather than the main piece.
But you're right about the limited value of looking at 2-5K words. In a more structured workshop, you could always ask to send around the best sheet to give context to the scene, and hopefully move the discussion around to the larger issues of the novel.
Sonal, I love this concept of extending workshop to beat sheets. Workshops aren't just limited to MFA students. I'm in a critique group with award-winning novelists.
That assumes that most students understand (and can provide useful input) on a "beat sheet."
(It seems to me) Most MFA programs do a woeful job in teaching aspiring writers about novel writing, in part, as I noted in another comment, there's a palpable disdain for "plot," like it's a contradiction of "art."
Yes, there will always be those people like Curtis Sittenfeld who will workshop their novels for two years and come out with something pretty darn great. But that's the exception, right? In general, if you're an aspiring Walter Mosley or James McBride or Liane Moriarty, you may struggle to find the feedback that you need to grow as a writer in you're seeking it in MFA workshops.
Workshopping a novel is incredibly difficult, for both parties. You're instinct is correct: most novels need work on issues that wouldn't be apparent in a 5000 or even a 10,000 word section. However, if you have a good friend that knows your work and sensibilities, then I could see some benefits in giving them a peek behind the curtain.
I agree Butterfield. As someone who has never done an MFA, been in a writer's group (until a year ago) or a worksop apart from one week in 1983 I never shared my work with anyone. That changed when an editor suggested that I get a friend to read the m/s of a novel, which I did. The friend gave helpful advice (he was used to working with playwrights) and I basically re-wrote the whole novel.
That took a long time for various reasons. Since that incident I have sent work to two trusted writer friends who give excellent feedback. I'm really happy now also to be in a small writing group. My fellow writers' perspectives have really helped me see my work more clearly. I wish I had done all this a long time ago!!
I have dipped into a workshop that was specifically for working on novels. Everyone was working on a novel and they met every week and went through everyone’s book. It works in that context brilliantly and is also highly motivating!
Good to know.
Life goals.
I agree! With short stories, I love critical feedback. I seriously desire brutal honesty. But with a novel...not so much. I believe this relates to the slower meandering process of the 'hard-at-work subconscious.' Feedback for 20 pages of a novel, without knowledge of the rest of it, can make me stumble and lose the brain snapping excitement that (hopefully) carries me through to the end.
I think there's also something to be said that in many MFA programs plot is often treated as a dirty word.
It's sort of odd when you think about it. The market for short stories is essentially non-existent. Very few writers are making a living solely on their writing as it is. Are there any (these days) doing it solely by publishing short stories? Yet, the overwhelming emphasis in MFA programs is on short stories. Why is that? Why aren't more MFA programs teaching the next generation of Brett Easton Ellis or Elmore Leonard or John Green?
EDIT: I'm not necessarily saying commercially successful writing should be the focus of MFA programs. However, I don't understand why so many actively cultivate disdain for writers who excel at storytelling and can actually make a living from their writing (rather than producing "art" while being dependent on a spouse or another job or teaching).
Said differently, yes, Anna Karenina is brilliant in many ways. But I would never hand it to an aspiring novelist as a primer on how to learn the craft.
Bottom line: while the classics may be brilliant, few, if any, (including Anna Karenina) would be published as is today.
I suspect it might be because short stories are quicker to read, so give the opportunity for more feedback; and you have more opportunities to fail.
There's a story of a pottery class where the teacher told the class that half of them would get a mark based on the quality of their final piece, the other half on the total weight of pots they made. The latter didn't only produce more work (as you'd expect); the work they ended up doing was of a much higher standard than those graded only on their final piece.
I agree with you, as someone who submits novels and short stories to workshops. The problem with workshopping novels is that if you go past the first chapter or two, you have to feed the book in small segments to the writing group, and the emotion and tension of the novel will fade between sessions.
Haven't had the pleasure of a novel workshop so I couldn't say for sure, but I think looking at things piece by piece could be helpful. It's sort of what I'm trying to do now, albeit on my own.
The best workshop experience I ever had was with a group who had always wanted to write but never dared. One was a security guard at a prison , one was a community nurse and one was a senior who told a riveting atory about being in an air raid shelter. The prompt I gave was the smell of oranges. They were all excellent storytellers. Did they become published best selling writers? No but one did air her piece on radio. . Creating space for stories to be heard ... I realize creating space as important as feedback. If that makes sense. The other participants' feedback seemed more useful than mine. As a student ... When I feel defensive I know they've zeroed in on the part I am struggling with so I try to lean in to that. But kindness matters. Best compliment as workshop teacher from a grade six "reluctant" writer was this : Miss, when was rightin in your clas I culd feel the jus in my mind. (: ah!!!!
I love this “when I’m defensive I realise they zoomed in on a part that I am struggling with” that’s so me and I should probably use that to my advantage to think more about the comments I know are right but don’t want to be.
I love this question! First I’d like to share a recent workshop experience I loved, then a question.
I recently attended a Work In Progress dance show with a feedback element which was handled so beautifully and left me inspired and curious to re-enact. Two artists showed half hour pieces followed by a half hour discussion led by the woman who put on the event. There was clear intention, vulnerability and honesty in the way the workshop was led and how we were meant to watch and respond to the works.
We were asked to feel in our bodies where the pieces impacted us and to hold back our critical brains bc the pieces were not at a space for that at this time. There were three elements to it (1) the facilitator shared her reaction and asked the artists questions (2) the audience or “responders” shared what they felt in their body, in what specific place at what specific moment in the show (3) the artists asked one question to the audience for us to answer critically and this was where we were allowed to share opinions. (This is me roughly remembering how it went)
This was the first time I’ve participated in such a thoughtful workshop/feedback experience and it felt exciting to here what the audience had to say and what I felt and wanted to say. I find live performance workshops to often be off putting or veer into pointlessness. This felt so open and freeing for the audience and artists. It expanded my mind on how to respond and how to watch the art as it happened. I found myself thinking about the dance pieces as I drove home and stayed up telling my partner about what I saw and felt and thought. This show I think will stay with me forever.
The feedback/artist/facilitator model was based on some style or approach popular in academia or those that study dance. Not sure the name of it.
I loved this method for live performance and am curious if there is a methodology like this that is the inspiration for the writing workshop? These specific railings for watching/responding made the feedback portion of the show just as enjoyable as watching the art itself.
Ok and lastly someone said a thing recently that resonated with me : that people wait too long to get feedback. Getting feedback is hard bc it’s inviting criticism or judgment and it’s scary! I’m curious how you all mitigate sharing something when it’s rough or when you know it’s early but outside eyes could help. How do you curate the feedback you need?
A really important question. I'm in the process of shifting from sharing portions of my work (I'm a playwright), to submitting a complete, but very rough draft of my next play (at least, that's the intention). Partly, this is because I need to get quicker at writing, and polishing and re-polishing the first 10 pages umpteen times before moving on is simply too inefficient. It also means I can lose sight / sense of the impulse that made me want to write the play in the first place.
I'm hoping that, by submitting a complete draft, there'll be more of a sense for the reader of tone as well as plot.
I'm also ditching writing so many different permutations of the story. I'm getting roughly 10% of the words written per day, but a far higher proportion of those words are worth keeping.
I found workshop to be so wildly energizing really--it was my favorite part of the program--because the combined collaboration of a group of writers and readers talking together and bringing their experiences--particularly when the mentorship/teacher is adept at drawing out and keeping people on specifics as you say--is so interesting, like cubism in action, examining different aspects and flipping them around as we all talk and think. And I really love that you point out that there are not "issues" to fix per se--and that often the things that feel like flaws can often become the strengths of a piece, and what makes the writer's voice distinct. There's a Jean Cocteau quote to that end that I always get wrong but that has stayed with me--that "What the public criticizes in you, cultivate. It is you." It's why, as you say, it is not so much about "issues" to correct, but to find the things that crack open on the page, and may not always work, but that's where the writer is often getting to something true.
Perhaps this is odd and can’t be generalized, but I’m in a workshop that reads half of one participant’s novel at once and then comments. In this way, a better overall view is possible and comments can be made about pacing--which is the problem I most often see. And the format leads to interesting, more personalized discussion. Recently we discussed whether one of my characters in a multiple POV novel deserved to have a POV. It was quite enlightening and is helping me with that character’s portrayal.
Bit late to this conversation but, as a 2nd year MA student, I've spent a lot of time wondering about the workshop process. Firstly, it's super useful and I have been lucky enough to work with a supportive and sensitive bunch of students who have helped me develop my work and even told me what it's about - and I mean that. Hidden themes are picked up that I hadn't even known I was themeing! My main point would be to keep your faith. It is too easy to believe that your work isn't good enough or clever enough or literary enough, especially when being critiqued by so many. I've found the trick is to thank everyone for their time, to really listen and to be honest with yourself. Without fail, every workshop, comments are made on the bits that I just knew weren't landing but thought I could get away with. Workshops are a great tool, a great way of learning about writing through the work of others, a fantastic way to understand your own work better. But they are just a part of the creative process. Be strong, take away what is useful to you and what will make your voice sing louder. And don't compare your work to the others - no, no, no. Never do that.
I can echo that sense of discovery when someone points out a theme / meaning of a piece of writing. Even established writers can benefit from that sort of astute reading. I write for theatre, where there is the professional role of 'dramaturg', and I've benefitted hugely from the inputs of at least three different really, really good dramaturgs.
I've read there can also be dramaturgs in film, though it's a field I know little about.
Some people are a bit sceptical if the dramaturg has no experience of playwriting; but, as the role is the equivalent of a writing 'midwife', I don't find this to be a deciding factor on whether a specific dramaturg is good or not. In fact, there being some sort of affinity between the writer and dramaturg seems far more important.
My first writing workshop was also my best experience with the form. I studied literature in college and decided I wanted to try writing fiction and poetry in my last semester of undergrad. Most of my required classes were finished, so my course load was a literature capstone, an ice skating class, and a writing workshop. (Typing that brought on a rush of newfound appreciation for that time in my life.) The teacher for the course was a poet, somewhat well-known, with a few books and some poems published in the New Yorker. On the first day, he encouraged us to call him Coach, and went on to explain that his approach to these workshops was to encourage all of us to write in our own way and that reading and practices (walking in the woods, being attentive to our senses) would support our development as writers. I don't know if this approach would work for every teacher, but it felt like an authentic expression of his being. He was warm and gregarious and the class felt like a place where our writing and our ideas about writing were accepted and treated with care. What I loved most about that workshop was the loving assertiveness of Coach R. He let us go on some tangents but let us know how to come back to the story or poem that would be of benefit to the writer. There's some vague recollections of this done with loving humor. I've gone back and read what I wrote for that class. I cringe at the earnestness of that new writer but also see in the writing a risk-taking (it doesn't seem like it at the time) that comes from a beginner's efforts, and I feel especially grateful that I sat in classroom with a teacher (coach) who oriented us to what was best and unique in our work and encouraged us to continue our efforts.
First of all, I’d like to say I wish I’d workshopped with Mr. Saunders. But unfortunately, the workshops I attended never guided the students, but ended up being a free-for-all for criticism. When I first began to write I took extension classes at the U of Minnesota and the Loft in Minneapolis. At least a couple of those classes were taught by published authors and structured on the traditional workshop model. I also was a member of a few informal writing groups and we also critiqued using that model. The workshop model encouraged the participants to find flaws, and since most of us were beginners, I began to question the value of theirs and my critiques. I came away from the workshopping with some good lessons learned and many faulty ideas about writing it’s taken me years to get rid of.
When I first began writing my very long novel (which has become meta-fictional) I was introduced, by a common friend, to a man who was also writing a novel. She thought we might like to meet and discuss our writing and we agreed. We met monthly for over two years, taking turns discussing a chapter of each of our works. The meetings with my writing buddy mostly taught me to trust my own intuition. I’d often get ideas for the scenes I was writing and then, because I thought it wasn’t the right way to write it, I’d leave it out. In other words, I was inhibited and feared doing something wrong. But when I met with my writing buddy, he’d often tell me I could have done more with the scene. I’d tell him the ideas I’d thought weren’t good enough and he’d say that was what was needed. Over time, I realized my intuitive imagination, or what Mr. Saunders calls the subconscious needs to guide my writing, and now I follow its leads. So, that was the most important lesson I ever learned. When I moved to Colorado, my writing buddy and I talked by the phone a few times, but he stepped away from writing, and at that point, I no longer wanted to share my writing with anyone. I knew I had to find my own way, as weird as it may be.
Now, when friends ask me to read and critique something they’ve written, if I feel something isn’t being said, I ask what they want to say in this scene, and often I tell them, ‘Yes, that’s what you need to write. Now write down everything you just told me and incorporate your passion for it in the story.’
It seems that many creative people in different fields have (at least) two modes of working, sometimes called 'forming' and 'norming'.
The former tends to work best when there is no critical analysis, just a generation of material; the second is a more analytical reshaping of the material.
Any two individual may swap between modes at different frequencies, and spend different amounts of time in each mode.
The approach can help avoid issues such as ditching a creative idea because the rational side doesn't yet know why it's significant, or why it's there at all.
Absolutely. Thanks for analyzing my comment (I'm not being ironic). Generation of material, followed by reshaping the material is a good way to look at the creative process. But I'll add that even in that analytical reshaping, the intuitive voice comes into play. When I tell a friend to incorporate their passion for what they want to say, I leave it to them to break it into dialogue, action, descriptive gestures, character's thoughts, etc. Even in that reshaping we can listen for guidance from the imagination, the subconscious. And then, there may be more reshaping....and so the circle goes round and round.
A very important point! Yin growing in the yang, and vice versa . . .
In fact, I'm in that process right now, trying to make sense of my notes, and clean up the mess. It will take some time.
Do you have a process for doing this, or is it more instinctive?
What is my process? Funny you should ask. Every time I read a good book, I want to ask the author, what’s your process? I even want to ask my 16 year old granddaughter who is a terrific writer. Sometimes it just pours out. I tell myself, first you write a sentence, and the scene may unfold. After that, of course, it needs extensive revision. Once I wrote a story in which my character was drowning. A friend told me she once had almost drowned, so I asked her to tell me about it, as I took notes, and then worked that description into the writing. Right now though, its more complicated. I want my characters to discuss how some stories are forgotten (theirs) and others are remembered (the victors), so I’m culling thoughts from my journal that I’d had written on storytelling, and am copying them into some kind of sequence (that must be the analytical part), and the characters will discuss forgetting and remembering (I’m sorry but do get a bit pedantic at times) in another chapter. After I get most of those ideas onto the ‘page’ then I’ll let the more intuitive part of me play with the pieces until they sing. I’ll change words, sentence construction, move them around, cut, paste, add bits and pieces here and there.
My process of revision is pretty much the same as Mr. Saunders describes. Where I differ from his process is that I like to write to the end to get the feeling for the story and then revise. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve revised these chapters. I simply don’t know. When I’m revising sentences, though that may be more analytic, I like my text to flow smoothly from one sentence to another, and that also informs the process. So, yes, Yin and Yang flowing into one another. Well, that was fun. Thanks for asking.
Should "friends" ever, sensibly "ask me to read and critique something they’ve written" strikes me as a question yo may have had occasion to consider Joan. Have you?
I don't know what you mean.
I really appreciate the details in your suggestions as to how to best help the writer understand where their voice is clear and engaging, and where it wanes for you, in a much more diplomatic way.
In one of my workshops, I discovered that for me, it was important for me to try and follow the story that I felt was there. I thought the story was often getting lost by distractions which were clearly meaningful for the writer personally, but not meaningful for the story. At that time, I decided I should act more as an advocate for the story, rather than for the writer, when the two were no longer in congruence. But the trick was how to do that without being too heavy handed. I didn't have a good grasp on how to put the story first without alienating the writer. I like your suggestions. Are they shareable?
In terms of best workshop experiences, it’s hard to beat the heady high of my first MFA workshop. I think a lot of my workshop experiences before that tended toward general praise and less rigor in terms of constructive feedback (just my experience, there are MANY great workshops not attached to the MFA model).
The worst was a workshop that operated under the “gag rule” where the writer is not allowed to speak. My workshop was discussing a story where I had made an error in writing what day of the week something had happened and it devolved into a lengthy discussion about the chronology of events that lasted for what felt like hours. In hindsight, it was very generous of them to make such an effort to wrestle with all the different things I could have meant, but it was deeply unpleasant to have all that discussion happen only for me to say “that was a typo.”
It did teach me two things: sometimes when we are trying to push a story toward achieving its highest self, we can lose sight of crucial, foundational details. Also, read your story out loud to yourself before you submit it for workshop.
Oh I hate that "gag rule" nonsense. Imagine any other field -- coaching tennis, teaching violin -- where the student can't ask questions. I mean, I get the premise, that the work has to be able to stand on its own with readers, and that it might be useful to be privy to initial reader responses, but I find it much more helpful when I can also participate in the discussion, ask for help where I feel I need it. That "typo" moment is hilarious -- thank you for that.
I workshopped the same first two chapters of a novel-in-progress at a writer's conference with two different instructors in subsequent years. The first instructor loved my work, said it was "terrific"; other participants also liked my work (they brought me cupcakes for my birthday). The following year, a different instructor hated my work (same two novel chapters, mind you). Her criticism was blistering; she said it was not a book she would ever buy. Of course, she later admitted, when we bumped into each other in the restroom, that she'd mixed my piece up with another participant's story that opened with a long, graphic rape scene straight out of a Dirty Harry movie. I was too embarrassed to go back to workshop and hid in my hotel room for the duration of the conference. Thing is, neither workshop led to me finishing my novel (I still have hope). Some years later, those same two chapters (I need some new material) got me into the Sewanee conference, so they couldn't be all bad.
I don’t know anything about writing conferences but I do know that a useful workshop doesn’t involve telling people you hate their work! 😑
Thanks, Juliana. I appreciate the support.
That's a horriffic story Pips. That moderator had no right being in that position or saying those things. I hope she apologised publicly and explained her error to the group. I'm all for honesty but that criticism was egregious no matter which story she was commenting on. There's always a better way to say something. If she had such strong feelings about the other story she should have spoken quietly to its author afterwards.
Keep on writing!
Thanks, Aisling. I appreciate the support. For better or worse, I didn't go back to the workshop. I mostly just hid in my room the rest of the week. Sadly no one came by to say hello or see how I was doing. One guy emailed asking if I could still send him my feedback on his work! (Gets better and better, don't it?) I didn't want the whole experience to rattle me like that, but it did for quite awhile. I agree, I don't think the leader was in the right mindset to run the workshop. Apparently her mother had passed away recently.
Wow--can't believe that happened to you!