On Workshop and Being Hopeless
So I wrote this story. And tonight I'll be handing it off to my workshop and then they'll all go home and sometime during the next week they are going to sit down with it and mark it up, noting sentences they liked and places where there are inconsistencies. They are going to question my word choice and fix typos I missed and maybe they'll write big question marks in the margins when they are confused or, depending on their workshopping style, leave me little smiley faces on the bottom of pages that really worked or squeeze in questions in tiny cramped handwriting in between my typed lines. And then, hopefully after they've read it at least twice, they'll type me a page or so of critique notes, expanding on that scribble there on page 11 or discussing where I lost them, like in that strange scene towards the end, you know the one, that might be a little different? Also, maybe watch how many sentences you start with "and", ok?
This used to make me quite anxious. But not so much, anymore.
And part of this change, I think, is that I sort of know what they are going to say. The end doesn't quite work, yet. And the first paragraph can kind of stand on it's own, separate from the rest. Also, and though I think they'll be sweet about it, they are going to say, hmmm. I don't know if the plot is working. But, they'll add, the imagery is really pretty good (because we are a supportive bunch, for the most part), and you have a good start.
This isn't to say that I know everything they are going to say. I am, of course, surprised in every workshop at what people notice or miss and the ways that people's reading differs from the person sitting next to them. Sometimes everyone will agree on something about the story (an interpretation of a character's action or dialogue, for example) that I didn't intend. But if you get eight people telling me they thought it meant something other than what I thought it meant, then it is a place in the story I have to go back to. If I'm lucky my workshop mates will be particular readers and tell me that someone can not, in fact, cross their arms and also point at someone accusingly at the same time. Unless they have three arms. Which is something I should mention, at some point, about that particular character. Because my readers were assuming she only had two.
Knowing some of what I'm going to hear in workshop next week isn't bad. In my first semesters of workshop, I went in with the secret hope that everyone would just love my story, tell me it was fabulous and write critiques like, "You are brilliant! A wordsmith! This story is so touching!" and wouldn't have a word to say against me. Everyone wants that. (And as far as I know, only Dave Eggers has been so lucky.) I don't wish that, anymore. If that happened I'd feel cheated (because I know it's not a Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius). I think after having almost two years of workshop, I'm able to acknowledge my natural strengths. I know what I do well and I know what I don't. More than that, giving up the idea that I'm am neither the best nor the worst writer in the room is a great feeling. So now I go into workshop not hoping for anything, secretly or otherwise. I know people are going to tell me the good and the bad and none of it will be things I can't handle.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010 at 4:12PM | margosita | 6 Comments | Share Article tagged workshop in writing
Reader Comments (6)
I really enjoyed this post, Margaret. I liked this, toward the end: "I think after having almost two years of workshop, I'm able to acknowledge my natural strengths. I know what I do well and I know what I don't."
To me, that's almost worth everything else that's so-so or bad about workshop. A lot of writers never quite figure that out, I don't think. Or if they do, they don't know what to do with the information. Glad you're figuring it out!
Off to workshop myself. Have a good night!
I am so with you. (Except of course that I haven't written my story and I have about 15 days to do so. gulp.)
I recently decided that I am "so over" workshop. I need that throwback to 90s valley girl slang to complete my sentiment. I can predict what they're going to say about my own work for the most part.
This is an excellent and kind of zen-like approach to workshop, which I think you acquire after a year or so of MFA workshops. The fact that you can now recognize what your strengths and weaknesses are means that workshop is working! Hold on to that, because it is harder to retain those truths after the MFA, I think. In any case, this post made me wish I was headed out to a workshop this evening! *Nostalgic*
Matt, thanks! I totally agree that it is one of the true values of workshop, despite the so-so elements. I think accepting both the strengths and weaknesses both keeps the writer's ego in check and also keeps them from giving up completely.
Haha, Eileen! I definitely imagined the "So over" in a valley girl accent. Complete with haughty hair flip. I've heard it, too, from friends. :)
Elizabeth, I definitely think someone ought to write an essay about the workshop experience and call it "Zen and the Art of Workshop Maintenance." There is a whole Ying-Yang metaphor to work with, too. Hmmm...
great post Margaret. I can remember being ready to be done with critiquing, at least for a while, by the time I reached the end of my second year. I still share work with a few writers whom I trust but I think by the end of my MFA experience I had learned a lot about what to see in my own work. That is the best thing to take away from workshop, the ability to see your work from someone else's eyes :)
Margaret--sounds like you're in the rhythm of workshopping--learning how to critique others' work is crucial to the act of writing...and that bruising of the ego is good prep for..well, the act of writing. I was done with workshopping by the end of my MFA though--I'm downright allergic to it! What will be important go forward, is a good writing friend with whom you can entrust your writing. Hope you're finding that in your workshops, too. :)