Writer Workshops: Worth Your Words?
The first day of workshop might have been the worst.
The little round-circle of writers listened to every quivering word of a story about suicide — the sordid tale of a young woman contemplating her own end and spending at least sixteen pages getting around to it. I don’t think anyone moved – or breathed – the entire time it was being read.
I’d had an uneasy feeling about the workshop right from the start. Writers are solitary creatures, right? So why herd a bunch of us into a room and expect magic to happen? Besides, I barely knew these people. I couldn’t analyze my own style, half of the time, so why should I expect to understand theirs?
The first two weeks of workshop didn’t do much to change my mind. But I started to realize, near the end of the program, that something was changing. I was changing. And for the better, arguably, which got me thinking: maybe workshops aren’t so bad after all. They don’t carry the most sterling of reputations, sure, but I think they can come in handy for anyone trying to do this for a living.
Just make sure you don’t go for the writing.
The Internet Age
Writers need a thick skin. That’s pretty well-established by this point, but it raises an important question: how do we get one?
The Internet is an option. It’s easy enough to put your work online and invite feedback, but that ease of use does cause a few problems. For one, you’re opening the floodgate for every kind of comment: flames, excessive praise, or straight-up apathy. That second category feels real nice, in a stroke-your-ego kind of way, but what about the rest? What about those comments that offer genuine criticism, and what about those critiques that read like a thousand tiny needles shoved straight into your heart?
They’re not that useful. The people who leave them tend also tend to stay anonymous, which makes it seem a) a little cowardly and b) way, way too easy to just ignore. Sure, they might have raised a valid concern, but are you really going to take it seriously when that one legitimate critique is mixed in with a big bag of inflammatory comments?
Even the super-positive comments, fluffy as they are, might do more harm than good in the long run. We’re trying to develop a thick skin here, people — not a thick ego, the kind which is usually built on pillars of praise and emoticons. Don’t get me wrong: the accolade feels good. But it’s only half of what you need to really excel as a writer, isn’t it?
So where can we get what we need?
Enter the Workshop
I’ll be honest: most people you meet in a workshop aren’t good writers. Some are passable, at best, and others might be flat-out terrible, making a workshop the place not to visit if you want to raise healthy debates about your writing. It took me a few months to realize this, but the workshop suddenly became much more interesting when I did.
You don’t go for the words. You go for the people.
These fine folk might not like your story. They might hate it, even, which sounds pretty terrifying until you come to grips with the idea of sharing something so personal with a group of relative strangers. If you’re unlucky, they won’t measure their words carefully when they’re discussing your work, but a good workshop will provide a healthy variety of critiques. Good, bad, ugly: they’re all fine.
It sounds brutal. And it is, in the beginning, when you’re unaccustomed to this style of feedback. But face-to-face criticism holds value beyond what the Internet can provide, and for one simple reason: you can’t ignore it. You can’t blow it off or delete the comment, and you can’t just assume someone was having a bad day. What you can do is recognize that their critique is good/bad/strange, accept it, and then move on. That might sting a little, at first, but it fades over time.
Workshops can help you develop the thick skin you need, and you might find it easier to recognize genuine criticism after a while. When any word of disagreement doesn’t automatically put you on edge, it becomes a whole heck of a lot simpler to realize that criticism, though usually bad, does provide an occasional moment of brilliance.
It helped me, at least. I’m not perfect at handling critiques of my work, but I’m getting better, and the workshop did a lot to help make that happen. So why not try one?
Please share your experiences of handling, or giving, criticism in the comments below!
Matt Madeiro is a part-time vagabond, part-time grammar snob, and full-time unemployed. He devotes his time and energy to self-improvement blog Three New Leaves, nurturing it like his own virtual child, offering advice on travel, exercise and living a more minimalist lifestyle. The tweets? They’re just for kicks.
Very nice article. Love the opening!
I’ve considered workshops off-and-on, especially after reading about Chuch Palahniuk and his table of 6 – while that’s not a workshop, more of a writer’s circle of friends, it was motivating. Robert McKee, however, seems to encourage otherwise – stating that writing workshops are a waste of money, make everyone the same, and turn you into a hack.
I’ve bounced back and forth for a while about whether or not to try a workshop. I don’t know that I’ve made up my mind yet, but that you for the personal opinion on the subject.
Thanks, Eric!
I’ve never heard of the table of 6 — but I’ve definitely heard of Chuck, so I can only imagine how entertaining that must have been. I know what you mean, though, about bouncing back and forth. I’m still not convinced workshops are worth the money, in most cases, but I do think they can provide value. You just have to change your perception of what you’re going to get! :)
Thanks for the article. Though writers are solitary creatures, a simple principle helps put things in perspective: exchange creates wealth. In this context, the wealth an attendee gets is the increased knowledge, feeling of self-reliance, and a general understanding that there are other writers and wannabe out there just like you. Another way of saying this: to increase your net worth, increase your network. When you can bounce ideas off of others your abilities improve.
Also, attending a writers workshop should be for finding a mentor or two in the presenters at the workshop. This is particularly possible if the workshop is a smaller setting. It enables you as a fledgling writer to rub shoulders with others more experienced in the craft, and if you can build a relationship with one of the presenters, you can possibly create a correspondence process that will improve your skills in the long run as well.
Networking, I’m discovering, is vital to any and every part of life. :)
All of the reasons you listed sound like wonderful motivation to join a workshop. Perhaps I’ve been unlucky, then, that the workshops I’ve attended offered little of value! Especially in the search for a mentor, as I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything but fledgeling writers who attend them.
Still, if you could find any of the things you’ve listed, I’d say it’s worth a shot.
The mentorship would not come through fellow workshop attendees, rather through creating a relationship with a presenter. I began to create such a relationship with one presenter several years ago. This began to develop as a great mentor relationship. Unfortunately, life got in the way and I did not maintain that relationship.
Great post, Matt.
My CP and I were talking about this just the other day. Workshops are amazing tools for learning the basics of the craft of writing or for learning that little niche something that you just can’t figure out by reading it, you know? They’re great for networking, getting to know the more experienced writers (i.e. the presenters of the workshop) and finding critique partners/groups. I think they have their place in expanding our ability to write…
I also think you have to be careful how many/how often you take them. I take two or three a year; ones that I know will help somewhere (read: I file the notes away for when I want to access them later, lol) down the road. But I saw a post come through a yahoo loop the other day that a woman had taken over thirty workshops in a year. When I read that, I thought, “Wow. How would you have time to write?”
And that goes back to what you said, Matt, about not taking the workshops for the writing… ’cause that’s the truth. I think it took two workshops for me to realize that. :)
That’s exactly it. :) Workshops center *around* the words, but I’d argue they’re not necessarily *about* the words. You go mainly for networking opportunities and a chance to pick up a few tips from the experts.
That was a difficult thing to realize. I’d always assumed that workshops would be an ideal place to improve my craft, but that wasn’t exactly the case. Still, it’s an experience worth trying for any author — just not thirty times each year! That’s insane, isn’t it?
I think you’ve got the right number. Two or three times yearly seems like a great way to build up a network while still leaving ample opportunity to write.
Thanks for reading!
I have a few questions regarding this topic. I’m still a rookie in the writing world and I’ve been writing for 3 years now. I’m wondering which is the best path is the best to take? To go through workshops or writing classes? I’m trying to find that middle ground of ways to improve in my writing in anyway that I can.
Some how the internet thing makes me a little uneasy because it means you are putting your work at risk of someone possibly stealing it. However I do think using the internet to your advantage is always an option. Like helping keep the creative juices going. But I do not think it is the right place to get a feel of where you stand with your work.
Anyways…if anyone has any great suggestions of what they think would be the best way to go on improving for writing please let me know! I’ve been studying some writing books but I’m open to any ideas.
Thank you so very much!