Writers Resources - Robyn Bradley

Green Writers (and I’m Not Talking Newbies)

As part of my celebration of National Writing Group Month (do you think I might launch a movement?), I’ve covered how to start a writing group and how to workshop submissions in your writing group. Now, I want to address a topic that we writing group members don’t like to talk about: jealousy and competition.

Listen, we’re human. So it’s gonna happen. I don’t care how much a person likes a fellow member. When one member of the group starts succeeding even when it’s totally deserved (i.e. the person has been working his or her ass off and has real talent that you’ve always seen and advocated for and he or she is really NICE to boot), the rest of the “serious” members (meaning those who are seeking publication) will *likely* feel at some point (if they’re truly honest with themselves) envy and/or jealousy. Here’s a good quick read on the difference between envy and jealousy.

I think it’s normal. And I don’t think it’s a problem if it comes and goes quickly. When it starts to become all-consuming, that’s when you need to stop and ask yourself what’s going on.

And it goes both ways: if you’re the person on the upswing and receiving all the accolades, be prepared for an occasional green-eyed monster (or two or three) giving you dirty looks or whispering behind your back. Be cool, and know that it will likely pass. And let it serve as a reminder to you that staying humble, even when a little voice inside of your head is saying you really are all that and a bag a chips, is not a bad thing.

One of the most honest discussions I’ve ever read on this topic is in Elizabeth Berg‘s book on writing: Escaping into the Open – The Art of Writing True. It’s a great writing book in general, but in her chapter “The Business of Writing,” she has a section on success (page 195), where she invites her best friend, Phyllis, to write about what happened between the two of them…and how they almost lost their friendship to envy. Phyllis writes humbly and honestly, and I give her a whole lot of credit for being able to admit it in writing.

I think this chapter should be required reading for every writer — and for all those who are close to a writer, especially ones who are successful or who are on the cusp. It’s easy to cheer on the struggling writer, especially when you’re a struggling writer as well. It’s a whole different ballgame when one person from the group starts advancing while the others continue to struggle. But that’s the reality of the game. I honestly believe there’s enough room for all of us, especially now, thanks to e-readers. But the most coveted positions — bestseller lists, awards — unfortunately do discriminate, and the bittersweet reality is not everyone in your group will “make it.”

I’d be curious to hear other people’s thoughts on this touchy subject. Leave your insights in the comments.

How to Workshop Writing in Your Critique Group

Some people hate the term workshop. I don’t have a problem with the word, and we use the term in my writing group, so I’m going with it.

In this recent post, I talked about how to start a writing group (in honor of National Writing Group Month, which I made up). So let’s talk about how to workshop.

These thoughts are based on my six years of experience with The Nobscot Niblets, on my experience teaching a first-semester writing course at Mass School of Law, and on my experience in being part of MFA workshops.

Lead with something positive. Yes, writing is hard. Yes, we writers need to develop thick skins. Yes, we can’t improve unless we hear all feedback: the good, the bad, and the ugly. But it’s much easier to swallow the yucky stuff if you lead with something sweet. Trust me.

Be specific. Don’t say, “I liked it.” This is a running joke now with the Nibs since one of our long-term members often starts out his comments with this line — on purpose now — but then he follows up with something specific. Try not to use the word “like” at all since that word often leads to general sentences — “I like your dialogue” — instead of something specific: “Your use of dialogue in this scene was effective because it revealed how much was at stake for Character X.” The same goes for pointing out what’s not working. Don’t say, “I didn’t like this.” Again, be specific, “The exposition here didn’t work for me because it took me out of the story. I think I felt that way because it seemed like a lot of background info was being put into a small space.”

Remember, you’re one reader with one very subjective opinion. Almost everything in writing is debatable. Almost. Share your thoughts honestly and respectfully. And acknowledge that your recommendations are just that.

Conversation or one-by-one? I tend to like having conversations about a piece of writing, like people do in book groups. I feel it can lead to better critiques because it involves conversation that can naturally lead to debates. The problem? Comment hogs. A good facilitator can help reign in the hogs and give the floor over to those who might be a little quieter. If you go one-by-one around the room, you ensure that everyone gets a chance to speak, but it can get a little boring. If you choose this way, make sure you mix up who goes first and last. And a facilitator is still needed to cut off that person who decides to rattle off a laundry list of issues.

Mark up the drafts. Your “public” critiques should highlight the most pressing questions you have or bring to light the issues. Save line edits for the hard copy. And remember to provide positive comments in the marked-up copy as well since no one wants to see only a marked-up draft of everything he or she did “wrong.”

Red pen alert! I know some people who think using a red pen is psychologically damaging — and in some schools, it’s actually forbidden. You’ll need to decide among yourselves what to do. Lots of red ink can be overwhelming. Is it less so if you use green or blue? I dunno.

For memoirs and personal essays, sometimes it’s more comfortable to refer to “the narrator” instead of the author’s name. I actually like this approach, even though it might come across as odd to talk about “the narrator” in the third person when the first-person subject is sitting right next to you. It depends on the content, I think, and on the writer’s comfort with it. If it’s heavy content (like incest, for example), it might be more comfortable for everyone to approach the discussion in a more neutral way by discussing “the narrator’s” actions, dialogue etc.

Workshopping poetry follows the basics outlined above, but there are other things to consider. If you have a group of poets, you know what to do. But if your group is a mix of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, you should probably provide some guidelines on how to workshop poetry.

Writers should be seen and not heard. Some workshops require the writer whose piece is under discussion to keep quiet during the critique and simply listen. At the end, he or she can then ask questions, provide clarification, or take part in the discussion. Overall, I like this approach since the writer should listen, which can be extremely hard to do; often our natural inclination is to defend what we wrote. But, again, this rule should be flexible, I think.

I welcome other ideas, especially any “big ones” I’ve overlooked. Leave your thoughts in the comments

Creative Writing, eBooks & online short stories

Behind the Blog’s Name: “Missed My Stop”

In the countless articles I’ve read about agents and what they’re looking for when they’re reading a manuscript from an unknown author, one phrase has popped up consistently: Make me miss my stop. (You’ll find that the bulk of literary agents work in NYC and commute there via subway or trains.)

It’s an apt phrase, I think. When I read, I, too, want to become absorbed in what I’m reading, so much so that the outside world stops, that the noise I live with quiets, that when I look up from my book or e-reader and see that it’s two in the morning, I have no idea how it happened.

As a writer, I endeavor to write fiction and nonfiction that’ll make you “miss your stop,” figuratively and literally (should you be reading my work when you’re riding the rails).

This blog celebrates and is dedicated to that concept.