On both sides of the razor wire
By Randy Koch
Writing is often considered a lonely task, and the image of the isolated writer confined to his garret, or Virginia Woolf alone in a room of her own, or the solitary figure of Henry David Thoreau sitting in the doorway of his cabin beside Walden Pond is so common that it's nearly a cliché. It's not that privacy and silence aren't necessary when trying to write; I'm as selfish as anyone when it comes to an unbroken span of time at home in my apartment during which the phone doesn't ring, the TV is quiet, tomcats aren't hissing and yowling outside my window, and the young couple upstairs isn't romping in bed. It's during that silence that my mind is free to wander, and by tapping out a few words on the computer I am led from images to ideas or associations that gradually become something -- a poem, an essay, the solution to a problem with a scene that I couldn't figure out three days ago. Privacy and quiet are essential to drafting, but this is only one part of the process. While people sometimes say, "It takes a village to raise a child," I'll go a step further: "It takes a community of writers to raise the quality of our writing so that it's ready for readers." And one form of community that writers can benefit from is the writers' response group or writers' workshop.
While the terms "writers' group" and "writers' workshop" are often used interchangeably, several differences exist between them. First, a group is generally smaller -- from three to about seven members -- while the workshop is larger -- from about eight up to as many as 20 members. Second, a group is usually an informal gathering, often in members' homes or in restaurants or libraries, while the workshop is more formal, often associated with a college or university creative writing class. Third, groups typically consist of people who make their living by means other than writing; the workshop, however, is usually led by one or more published, professional writers. Whether a group or a workshop, both function in essentially the same way: members sit around a table or in a circle, hand out copies of a draft of writing done by one of the members, and give and receive feedback to help the writer identify what's successful in the draft and what needs revision.
I had my first experience with a workshop in the early 90s at Mankato State University in Minnesota where I was working toward my master's degree in creative writing. I was both thrilled and intimidated by the idea that the first published writer I had ever met -- Terry Davis, the author of Vision Quest and Mysterious Ways -- was leading the workshop and along with the other students would respond to the work submitted to the group. I knew, however, from a couple of undergraduate courses I took with him that he was a kind and thoughtful but rigorous teacher, one who knew how to explain why a story succeeded or failed, both on the page and in the market. This was the first of three workshop courses I took with him, all of which were wonderful learning experiences. Since I hoped eventually to write and publish, I discovered that the reactions of intelligent readers were essential in order for me to see clearly what I needed to revise. Since I also hoped to teach creative writing someday, I saw how Terry focused our comments when we were discussing a writer's work, qualified them when someone was off base, and taught us to be better writers and readers by examining not just what went wrong with the work but what succeeded, sometimes even to the surprise of the writer. But there were other benefits of the workshop, among them the pressure and motivation to produce something and even to consider submitting work for publication. I also found myself determined to write as well as -- if not better than -- everyone else who submitted work, and, as a result, I felt pushed to do my best. Finally, I found friends -- people who cared about words and stories and writing as much as I did, a passion that often made me feel out of place in the small rural town where I grew up.
After I graduated and began teaching community college English in Rochester , Minnesota , I was still committed to writing, but because I didn't find other writers with whom I could work, I missed the workshop atmosphere and energy. Not until five years later, when Jeanette Hinds, a small, white-haired poet and retired teacher, asked me if I'd help her teach a creative writing class at the federal prison, did I again feel the camaraderie of a group of writers, this time inside a compound surrounded by chain link fence and razor wire. Here, working with a group of men, some of whom had a college education and had written before, others who were high school dropouts, and all of whom were convicted felons, made me feel like a writer again. I didn't want to know why they were in prison since I didn't want my reactions to their writing to be colored by what I knew about them. I needed to be tough on their drafts but kind to them if we were going to help each other become better writers. While I saw and heard only bits and pieces of the conflicts between the prison guards and the inmates, I was often surprised in the classroom by the quality of their work and the support the inmates gave one another as practicing writers. Because the rule was to focus on the page, not on the past or the personality of the writer, and because each knew from personal experience how difficult drafting was, they grew as a group. This reprieve from the routine of prison life for three hours every other Friday, their mutual respect, and the common goal of making the writing as strong as possible held them together.
When my daughter Mary and I moved to Laredo in 1997, I hoped I'd find people as devoted to their writing as the men at the Federal Medical Center but feared I wouldn't and that I'd be back to working alone again as I had during those early years in Rochester. However, within a few months, I discovered a very active community of writers in Laredo, people hungry for creative writing classes, anxious to read their work at open-mics, interested in submitting for publication, and fearful of rejection and sometimes even the implications of acceptance. In short, I found writers: Carlos Flores, who still hadn't recovered from the University of Arizona's rejection of his short-story collection Friend of a Minor Poet; Toni Howell, who was editing LCC's La Frontera ; Lucinda Farrokh, who was (and is) one of the directors of the South Texas Writing Project; Norma Cantú, whose book Canícula everyone seemed to know about; Raquel Valle Sentíes, who had published Soy como soy y qué and opened her home -- El Café del Barrio -- one night each month for an open-mic reading; Meg Guerra, who tenaciously and lovingly published LareDOS; Jesse Herrera, who drove an 18-wheeler for UPS and whose discovery of his voice and of poetry still reverberates around town; Dora Flores, whose poem "The Day I Began to Love My People" had recently appeared in a Wisconsin literary journal; and many others who wrote or wanted to learn to write. I knew then how fortunate I was to be here, to meet these people, and to be part of their ongoing discussion about writing.
Around that time, I got involved with a new writers' group, and while members have come and gone in the five years since then, the group has survived, and I continue to meet every couple of weeks with three good friends who are also talented writers -- Toni Howell, Lucinda Farrokh, and Chris Morgan. We take turns hosting the meetings, eat pizza or egg salad sandwiches or some wonderful surprise that Lucinda "threw together," disagree about politics, celebrate the completion of drafts and the occasional acceptance for publication, and help each other with our writing. And because other writers here in Laredo want to form their own response group, I thought it would be useful to pass on what I've learned over the past few years.
Even though members may not have much to say about who is included in a writers' workshop, particularly if it's part of a writing class, there are some things to consider when forming a smaller writer response group of one's own:
1. The larger the group, the more difficult it can be to manage. For active writers looking for regular response to their work, a small group of four or five who meet every two to three weeks might be just right. Larger groups of 10 to 15 members can also work, but they may want to meet more often since only a few members' work can be discussed during each 2-3 hour meeting.
2. Diverse groups -- in terms of age, gender, interests, professions, and the types of writing that members do -- are often stronger and more productive than groups made up of homogeneous members. Our strengths as writers in different genres can allow us to provide helpful observations, such as a poet's view of a story, a fiction writer's view of a narrative poem, a playwright's perception of dialogue in short fiction, a woman's belief in a female character or a man's in a male character, etc. Similarly, a variety of professional and personal interests and experiences can liven up conversation and are frequently important in the discussion of the content of writers' work. In our group we often discover the value of Chris's experience as a CPA (particularly since the rest of us are English teachers) and as a life-long Laredoan; Toni's knowledge of stray cats, British literature, clowning, and long-distance marriage; and Lucinda's culinary expertise and a life of travel that has taken her from Oregon to Iran and Afghanistan, to London and Athens, and back to Laredo again.
3. Members who have different levels of writing skills can also be beneficial to the group. If all the writers are inexperienced, they may be unwilling or unable or lack the confidence to help one another whereas a group of one or two skilled, experienced writers along with enthusiastic but less skilled writers can provide an interesting and dynamic learning environment for everyone. It's also important that all members feel that they're gaining from and contributing to the workshop. A skilled writer in a small group of very inexperienced writers may feel that he/she regularly gives the other members constructive, detailed feedback but receives little in return. Similarly, a less skilled and inexperienced member of the group can feel inadequate and intimidated by a group of more accomplished writers.
4. Members should approach the work of the group with equal sincerity and seriousness. If one or two members view meetings as social events during which some discussion of writing occurs while the others are there primarily to receive feedback on their work, frustration and possibly conflict are inevitable. Less serious members are likely to blow off meetings or arrive late, fail to bring work when it's their turn, or give superficial comments about others' writing. More serious members may resent what they perceive as too much time spent chatting about things other than writing or feel that the meetings are a waste of time if they think some members aren't putting genuine effort into reading and thinking about the writing. Unless people agree on the main goal of meetings and talk about it, differences in expectations can quickly result in the disintegration of the group.
5. The personality of individual members should also be a consideration. If the people forming the group have known each other for some time, they probably already know whether or not they're compatible. If they're strangers brought together by a common interest in writing, they may want to spend some social time together in order to get acquainted before committing to a response group. Some people, unfortunately, have strong, overbearing personalities or are meek, insecure, and shy; even they can be an asset to the group if they are skilled writers and if the group establishes some ground rules that prevents anyone from dominating the discussion and guarantees that all members contribute to the conversation. In the best groups, the members are comfortable with being perfectly honest about one another's writing, can agree to disagree, and are willing to listen to opposing opinions, all the while remaining good friends.
It's really a question of being decent human beings. An effective writers' group consists of members who are considerate of one another; who give specific, honest criticism of the work under discussion; who are intelligent, thoughtful readers; who consider participation by all members essential to the success of the group as a whole; who don't try to dominate conversation; and who are as willing to give feedback to the other writers as they are to receive it.
Once the group is formed and members are ready to begin reading and responding to others' work, it's beneficial to identify and agree on some guidelines, though not necessarily rules, for the response session. Here are some suggestions:
1. Writers distribute copies of their work (double-spaced, single-sided, page-numbered, 12-point font or larger) to the group. For short pieces, this can be done at the meeting when it will be critiqued; long pieces should be distributed at least 2-3 days prior to the meeting. Email is a convenient means of doing this.
2. The writer explains what the piece is -- a chapter of a novel, a short story, an essay, an exercise, etc.; whether it's complete or incomplete; and if needed, the context (not the content), especially for an excerpt from a long story or a chapter of a novel. The writer might describe the intended audience or market for the piece and may identify specific concerns on which he/she wants readers to focus their attention when reading and responding to the writing. The writer should not praise or apologize for the work or say anything that will either discourage or encourage readers to respond in a particular way. If discussion is to be beneficial, writers must allow readers to make their own judgements.
3. Decide how much time will be devoted to each writer's piece, particularly if the group has limited time and several writers' work to critique.
4. Readers should read long works thoroughly (if possible, twice) before the workshop and write reactions, suggestions, praise, corrections, responses to writer's concerns, etc., on the draft. Then, when the group meets, the writer can briefly summarize the work or read an excerpt to refresh everyone's memory of the piece before the group begins the discussion.
5. For short works, the writer reads the piece aloud to the group once and, if necessary and if time permits, a second time. Members of the group listen and write their reactions, suggestions, praise, corrections, responses, etc., on the draft.
6. The group then discusses the piece by focusing primarily on content and organization, not mechanics; by offering specific, constructive criticism; and by referring the group to particular pages and paragraphs of the work. So that readers don't focus exclusively on the negative, it's helpful and good for morale if comments focus first on the strengths of the piece and then on things that raise questions in readers' minds or that need work. Readers should not make assumptions about what the writer tried or hoped to say but always focus their attention on this question: "How good or successful is what appears on the page and why?"
7. During the discussion of the work, the writer should listen quietly and take notes on what readers say but should not argue, explain, clarify, or defend the piece. If the writer tries to explain away the group's criticism, conversation will be stifled, members will feel that they're wasting their time, and the group will become ineffective. The writer must allow the work to stand on its own.
8. Once the discussion is over or time is up, readers may ask the writer questions to which he/she may respond, and the writer may give explanations on points of confusion. The writer may also ask questions about issues that the group did not address during the discussion.
9. Readers return their copies of the draft to the writer so he/she can read the written comments and get responses from all members of the group, even from those who contributed little to the discussion. This is especially important for a large workshop when some members are shy and less willing to speak in front of 15 or 20 people or when readers mark mechanical problems but don't want to take time from discussion of more important issues to point them out.
10. The writer decides which suggestions from the group are most helpful and most likely to improve the work, given the writer's vision for the piece. Writers should not feel obligated to incorporate into the writing all or any of the suggestions made by the group, and readers need to remember this. The writer always retains ownership of the piece and makes final decisions about it.
11. Once the writer has had time to revise the piece, everyone can benefit from the writer resubmitting the piece so that members can see how the work has developed and what effect, if any, their suggestions had.
It may seem that participating in a writers' group is complicated and strict, but it's not. Much of what I suggested is common sense, particularly if the goal of the group is to help each other write better and to continue working together for some time. And remember: these are not rules; they're simply suggestions and guidelines that can and probably should be relaxed after the group has worked together for a while.
I recently received a letter from Jeanette, 82 years old now and still working with inmate writers in Rochester. She said, "The new warden is all retribution rather than rehabilitation," but always the optimist, she closed with the news that she and the writers had put together another issue of Convictions, a chapbook-sized collection of writing by the men in the group. I've always admired her perseverance, and I'm grateful for her reminder: no matter which side of the razor wire we're on, we shouldn't be alone in our writing.
(Randy Koch teaches English and directs the Writing Center at Texas A&M International University.)
