Overthinkings: Writing Groups

So you’re looking for a writing community. I get it; no man is an island and all that. Finding one of “our people” is like biting into a sugarplum and realizing it’s a hazelnut creme. That said, just because someone—or a group of someones—is in the hazelnut creme space in the package doesn’t mean that they might not be a stale orange creme with a bug inside. 

Desperate people ignore red flags. It’s how cults are created, how MLM’s keep their rosters up, and how televangelists buy all those new cars. Artists love community, and our desire to be with others can lead us to put up with things that we might not otherwise. 

So what does a “good fit” look like? Well, that depends on what you are looking for in a writing partner/group/community. 

Do you want feedback on your work? 

How much time and effort do you want to invest? 

Do you want craft talks and workshops? 

Do you want collaborative writing time?

Do you want praise and accolades, a place to shine?

Crowds of people or a few close chums?

I have participated with communities that offered some of all of these options (but never all in one) to mixed results. 

Feedback: Workshopping is an art. Both giving and receiving feedback takes tact, and a solid set of communication skills. People who have a formal writing education should have quite a bit of practice workshopping, but even then it can be easy to accidentally step on toes. When we turn our fledgling work over for comments we are baring the underside of our souls to the talons of our peers. 

I have a pretty thick skin when it comes to workshopping; the folks in my writing group are well read, well educated, and fantastic writers, so when they don’t make a connection or point out that I’m blurring my character voices I value the input. On the other hand, when I received feedback recently from a new source at a one shot event who said “I don’t really get that part, but then I was zoning in and out through the whole thing…”, well, I found that less than helpful. 

Good feedback is thoughtful. It helps a writer clarify their work, and gives them an idea of what is working and what needs more crafting.  

On the flip side of receiving feedback is offering it to others. The same rules apply. 

I try and ask my folks what they are looking for—feedback wise—before I dive into their pages. By this point in my group’s history, we have a rhythm, but when new writers join us a few questions can set us up for success. 

1. What sort of feedback are you looking for?

2. Where are you in the drafting process?

3. What is your end goal with this piece?

I have very different expectations for the first draft of an idea that just popped into someone’s head vs. the final copy edit of an essay they are submitting to a national magazine. 

A caveat to all of my giving feedback advice: Sometimes people will show you that they don’t actually want anything but positive feedback by their responses to you. If someone makes excuses, gets defensive or frustrated, or turns around and becomes mean about your work after you have given honest—albeit gentle—comments. Then that is not on you. They may not be a good fit for your group. 

If you find yourself feeling defensive, frustrated, or upset by comments about your work, then the group might not be a good fit for you. This isn’t necessarily anyone’s fault. Peanut butter and tuna fish don’t work together, but they both work with other things entirely. 

Frequency: One of my favorite writing groups meets three hours away. I have been to one of their events and it was absolutely lovely. Collaborative writing, snacks, brainstorming, new friends, and quiet spaces for the introverts. I sat by a nervous looking guy and started with “I’m Sally and I have some social anxiety, so it helps if I just announce that and jump right in.” We were best friends thirty seconds later and claimed a booth to write across from each other for the rest of the event, and haven’t spoken since. 

Writer’s groups don’t have to be an every week or every month event. You don’t have to hold a board position. There are plenty of groups that let you participate as often or little as you like. White Crane Philosophical Society has several members that haven’t shown up for more than a meeting, but will always be on the roster because we love them. 

We send out up to 5k words to each other once a month or so, and come in with feedback. Occasionally I make everyone sit through a workshop or craft talk that I am preparing and they give me feedback (usually on my graphics). We are a low maintenance crew. If people want formal readings, open mics, introductions to agents and professionals, we aren’t the group for you. Those groups do exist though.

What to do if you can’t find a good fit: Living in a small town, I poked my nose into a couple different writing groups (one was too big, the other didn’t call me back) before giving up and creating my own. I started by asking a few of my friends were are writers to come together once a month and workshop. We set some ground rules—nothing hugely formal—and assured each other than we were thick skinned. Thus far it has been a great fit. 

I don’t have a lot of advice for kicking out awful members because we haven’t had any. That said, I’ve been in plenty of writing groups in grad school that always had one or two folks who weren’t incredibly helpful (my first semester it was the professor, but that is a story for a different day) and it generally boiled down to one of two reasons. 

1. They weren’t doing the reading. This can generally be fixed by a “hey, we’re putting the time into your’s, you need to return the work. 

2. Ego issues. These usually manifest in someone trying to make other’s feel small, or not being able to take reasonable feedback.  I would try the “I don’t think this is a good fit for us” line with either. 

The writing partner route: You don’t need a big group of folks for community. Passing work back and forth with another person may be enough for you. Or a nice addition to a large group experience. 

If WCPS members and their work were put in a Venn diagram, there would certainly be some shared central characteristics, but no one would be in the same big circle. This works well for me because if my heavy sci-fi loving anti-anything that hints of romance single guy who does the sports-reader really loves a passage, I know I am going above and beyond my usual reader profiles. If it isn’t reaching him, he asks questions that usually help me realize I am relying on presumed knowledge or experience of my readers to fill in gaps. 

We all have our skills! My friend who is writing a mystery brings all sorts of new ideas to the table for the rest of us. I can break anything down into a diagram. My bestie has an encyclopedic knowledge of magic systems. But most important is that we respect each other and the work that is presented every month.  And that, my friends, should be the foundation of any group that gets your time.