Your Writing Group & You: How to Get the Most Out of What Can Be a Challenging Experience

Writing fiction is a solitary pursuit. The writers of Saturday Night Live might have great craic (“craic” being the Irish word for “fun”) aiming paper airplanes across the table, and end up with memorable and quirky sketches, but it doesn’t work for us novelists. We must work alone.

Thus, we need to pause long enough to get feedback on what we produce: to see our work through objective eyes, in order to see it more clearly through our own. Yes, there are periods when any input is a distraction, but over the course of a career, almost everyone needs intelligent advice, be it in a classroom, or simply an agreement with a partner to exchange 500 words a day.

As a longtime veteran (I might even say, “survivor”) of a number of these situations, as both student and instructor, I flatter myself that I have some suggestions (“wisdom” is such a pompous term) regarding how to make the most of them.  

IT’S NOT ABOUT COMPETITION

I’m ashamed to say that when I was young and foolish, and joined my first writing class here in San Francisco, I looked around the room and wondered, who had talent? Who was going to make it? And where did I rank this self-imposed hierarchy?

Spoiler alert: everyone in that room had talent; everyone had to put in a lot of time honing that talent, and how much time they put in had everything to do with “making it,” which is a fairly meaningless term, especially in the digital age, but which is also a subject for another time.

(I can say that when it came time to give feedback, I did my best to be helpful, and did not try to undermine my fellow writers, even when I felt really threatened.)

What I learned over the next few years is that we are all in this together, and that the more we help each other the more we help ourselves.  We can be spiritual about that, and talk about karma or the golden rule, but the principle lends itself to simple arithmetic: The more good writing there is out there, the more people will enjoy reading, and the more they’ll want to read.  It’s not like Game of Thrones, where there’s one monarch and everyone else is a subject.  So, instead of fretting over how big a slice of the pie we can get, let’s make the pie bigger.

GIVE FEEDBACK IN A HELPFUL MANNER

There’s almost always something to like about another writer’s work, and it’s most effective to open with that: “I enjoyed the humor/pathos/pace.”  People not only need, they deserve, to hear what’s good, as well as what needs improvement.

Starting out with, “I just didn’t believe Chad and Pauline are in love,” or, “The beginning is slow,” puts the writer immediately on the defensive.  You can deliver the same message in a way that empowers rather than demoralizes the recipient. Instead of, “Britney lacks depth,” you can say, “I’d like to see more dimensionality in Britney.”

It’s even better if you can give the writer specific ideas about how to accomplish this.  “Maybe we could see Britney at work, interacting with a client.” “Maybe Britney can confide in a friend.”

And this is good for you, the giver of feedback. Looking at another’s manuscript and finding what can be improved hones your ability to look at your own work—and improve it.

This is brainstorming, about more of which in a mo’.

LISTEN

But enough about other writers. Let’s talk about you.

First, listen to what others have to say.

Just listen.  

What they say might strike you as misguided. But why did you come to this class, or join this group? To hear only confirmation that what you wrote is perfect, just as it is? A writing group that gives nothing but praise is like a frightened partner who tells their spouse that those jeans look perfect, because otherwise she might get ticked off.

That’s not you. You’re a strong woman who wants to grow.

There’s someone in your group who, rather than listen, argues with every comment she hears. “But didn’t you get that Fernando is lying?” or the ever-popular, “You just didn’t understand what I was trying to do.”

That not only wastes time, it creates tension in the room, and, whether consciously or not, inhibits others from making honest remarks.

The value of feedback often doesn’t blossom fully for several months. “I wish your characters were more likable,” might trigger the ol’ fight or flight response, but if you can resist doing either, and sit with this comment, you might find that you want to, and can, make your characters more likable.  

LET OTHERS GIVE YOU IDEAS

One of the most powerful uses of a writing group for me has been the opportunity to brainstorm. Readers throw out ideas: sometimes brilliant, and sometimes not-so-brilliant, but which sparks another idea that does. Yes, and often something that doesn’t work at all.

But if I were to dismiss these unworkable suggestions out of hand, I’d surely lessen my chances of hearing the good ones in the future.

So what if a reader says, “Katelyn should run away from home and become a Vegas showgirl”? You don’t have to have Katelyn run away. It’s a free country, and writing fiction is one of the greatest freedoms we have.

You also don’t have to tell the speaker who had this idea that her idea was less than genius. Her next idea might be genius, and you’ll miss the opportunity to hear it.

A FINAL THOUGHT

You have to be tough, but you don’t have to be a masochist. If the group or class you’re in consistently undermines your confidence, frames its feedback in unnecessarily negative terms, or you feel it just isn’t a good fit, go find another group.

Or start one of your own.

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Donna Levin’s latest novel is He Could Be Another Bill Gates. She’s the author of three previously published novels (Extraordinary Means, California Street, There’s More Than One Way Home), as well as two books on the craft of writing, Get That Novel Started and Get That Novel Written, both published by Writer’s Digest Books. Her papers are part of the California State Library Archives. She lives in San Francisco with her family.

http://www.donnalevin.com/

Follow her on Twitter @DonnaLevinWrite

About He Could Be Another Bill Gates:

Anna Kagen had her heart broken five years ago–so badly that she can’t imagine ever having another man in her life. Her ex-husband, Alex, would like her to stay single: that would ensure that he has control of their children, Jack, a 16-year-old on the autism spectrum, and five-year- old Marissa, whose “giftedness” might be wishful thinking on his part, since he needs someone to achieve his own unfulfilled ambitions.

As for Jack, he’s ready to open his heart: to the lissome redhead and high school queen bee, Ashleigh. And she’s taking an interest in him! When Anna reconnects with Jason, a man from her past who was once kind to her and who has a special needs son of his own, they seem destined to become a new family. But not if their ex- spouses have anything to say about it….

“Levin’s latest novel will appeal to any parent who has felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Refreshingly, she doesn’t shy away from the alternately frustrating and triumphant realities of parenting an autistic child. Fans of Rebecca L. Brown and Mark Haddon will appreciate Levin’s tender and realistic portrait of a nontraditional yet immediately recognizable family.” –Booklist

“[A] complex and insightful rendering of contemporary love and family…Jack’s teenage point of view is striking for the glimpse it provides into Asperger’s.” –KirkusReviews

“Being a good parent is always a challenge. Add a particularly challenging child, acknowledge the daily-ness of the work, add wit, compassion, and imagination, and you have He Could Be Another Bill Gates. Levin’s story is compelling and her voice authentic. The result is simultaneously hopeful and sobering.”–Karen Joy Fowler, winner of the PEN/Faulkner award and bestselling author of The Jane Austen Book Club

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Category: How To and Tips, On Writing