How to Run a Writing Group: Running Your Meetings

The assorted authors on this blog belong to a writing group in Phoenix, Arizona, and we thought we would share some of our ideas and experience. This is one in a series of posts we’ve put together on The Care and Feeding of a Writing Group.

William Hogarth's 1736 engraving, Scholars at ...

William Hogarth’s 1736 engraving, Scholars at a Lecture (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

So, you’ve gathered a group of like-minded folks eager to share the road and become better writers.  You’ve found an understanding cafe or bookshop to put up with your shared insanity.  You’ve synchronized everyone’s schedule.  Now it’s time to fire up the engine, this is where the rubber meets the road, or some other automotive metaphor.

How exactly do you run your sessions?  Some thought and discussion should go into it before you start meeting.  A few ideas on format and protocol can prevent awkward shoe staring while everyone figures out how to proceed.

For a brand new group, consider a getting to know you period.  If not a full meeting, at least a good chunk to break the ice.  Everyone should introduce themselves, describe what type of writing they are interested in, and then answer two important questions.  What are their personal goals as writers?  What are they looking for from the group?

Some people are better at this than others.  It always makes me feel like I’m in grade school, but it’s a known ritual that gets everyone in the collaborative mindset.  Anytime a new member joins, this ritual should be repeated.

The format needs to be flexible enough to allow for discussion and debate, but structured enough to cover all the material in the time allotted.  If that sounds easy, you haven’t been to very many meetings.  I advise against too formal, since that can be intimidating.  Even though this isn’t a social club, you are there to support each other and should feel comfortable.  Think more of collegial collaboration instead of boardroom meeting.

Our group started small, only four people bringing about a page each.  The simple method of taking turns in no particular order covered everything quite nicely.  As membership grew along with the output, the meetings had to grow more structured.  Not necessarily more formal, but definitely more focused.

We meet at a coffee shop and everyone orders.  The ‘how’s it going?’ socializing takes place while the orders are being filled.  When the last person gets their drink, socializing ends and the meeting begins.

From there we go in round robin fashion.  Each member gets a turn in the hot seat where their work is up for review.  Then we move on to the next writer.  If you didn’t submit work, you’re not off the hook.  You still take a turn and answer for your crimes.  We discuss notes and criticisms, talk about what we liked or didn’t like, discuss what-ifs, and ask where the piece is going.  This will be part debate since opinions differ, and part question and answer between the writer and the other members.

For the writer this is a gold mine.  I think a great way to see the effect of your writing, is to watch two people debate it.  You don’t get involved in the debate, merely observe and take notes.  You will get a real sense of what people are taking from the piece, and they tend to be more honest with the person they’re debating than they would be with the writer.

The danger here is that unchecked debates can drag on.  Discussion without direction will ramble and go off on tangents.  That bogs down the flow of the meeting.  The responsibility to stay on track is shared by all members, but you are going to need somebody in charge.  The person who formed the group might be in charge by default, but it doesn’t have to be them, or even the same person each meeting.  In the spirit of collaboration you want a moderator, not a dictator.

The leader’s main duty is keeping the meeting running by keeping it on task.  That means turning everyone around when they get on one of those tangents.  You can never completely stop the group from going on them, but somebody has to turn them around.  A simple ‘we’re getting off track’ should snap everyone out of it.

The other chore on the leader is simple timekeeping.  Groups of three or four have more leeway here, but the larger the group, the more you have to keep an eye on the clock.  Each writer deserves their fair share, and no one should get short changed.

For most people this isn’t a problem, but there are some time hogs out there.  They may ‘discuss’ their work by rambling about it rather than taking feedback from the group.  That rambling may roam far afield of the topic at hand.  They might even bring the discussion back to them when it’s another writer’s turn for feedback.  It’s the leader’s job to spot such behavior and keep it in check.  Usually an appeal to time management is sufficient.

Our group has been meeting for a long time in one form or another.  Naturally we’ve developed some slang, in jokes, and nicknames.  Some are obvious.  Slackers and moochers are the same in a writing group as in any other group.  Some are more obscure and won’t make sense to outsiders.  One term that’s come up for us is simply The Beast.

Writers working on a longer piece, say a screenplay or a novel, might not want to bring it in piecemeal.  If they’re still contributing to the discussion, this is fine.  However, when that work is done, they’re going to want feedback.  Now you’ve got a Beast.  It won’t fit into the meeting run time along with other members’ work.

We have what we call a focused session.  A whole meeting dedicated to one person’s work.  It’s scheduled well in advance, so everyone has a chance to read the Beast.  Since it’s focused on one work, the discussion can go into great detail.  This is win-win for the group.  The writer gets detailed, honest critiques, and members get to practice their editing skills on a long piece.

That format of round robin critique should be the meat of the meetings, but leave a few minutes for new business.  If anyone has an idea for a group project, or questions about new tools and resources, go over it now.  Get in the habit of reviewing goals and deadlines.  Encourage an attitude of contribution and respect for the group’s time and rules.  Writing can be a lonely process, but this meeting is where you get to travel with companions, at least for a few hours.  Enjoy it!

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Paralysis of Analysis

Sigmund Freud, founder of psychoanalysis, smok...“Striving for excellence motivates you; striving for perfection is demoralizing.” (Harriet Braiker, American psychologist and writer)

For years I’ve had a recurring dream. I’m on stage in a concert arena drumming for one of my favorite bands. The lights are flashing. The crowd is cheering. And then on cue, we launch into some complicated instrumental break. It’s at this point that I look around and realize that I am not really in this band, and there’s no way I’m talented enough to play the sorts of things I find myself playing. My hands grow heavy, the song falls apart, and the crowd becomes an angry, screaming throng.

I can only guess what Freud would have to say about these dreams, but I’ve always viewed them as a sobering commentary on both my aspirations as well as my limitations as an artist.

In his collection of journals entitled Confessions of a Barbarian, the twenty-five-year-old Edward Abbey ponders the progress he is making on his first novel:

“At times I’m afraid to read what I’ve written, almost superstitiously afraid—and then at other times I do work up enough courage to hastily read snatches chosen at random. The effects are mixed—parts of the book seem hilariously funny, beautifully written, packed and quivering with life. And then I’ll read the same passage again, or another, and it will seem dead as junkyard iron, pretentious and false, weak, thin, spineless, empty and hideous.”

I think all writers who are honest with themselves can relate to these sentiments. We have a vision of what we would like our words to achieve, yet in the process of giving form to this vision, we worry that something has somehow gotten lost. We rework the material—often to the point of draining away its life—because we fear that we’ve missed the mark artistically.

At a certain level, these sorts of self-doubts may be healthy, for they spur us on to perfect our skills. On the other hand, I’ve seen plenty of talented writers whose work is in a perpetual state of revision, and they never seem to muster the courage necessary to submit their material for publication.

Speaking personally, I realized a long time ago that I may never be as skilled as some of my favorite authors; that level of talent is rare in this world. Yet I still have a voice, and I’d like to think that I have at least a few things to say that others might be interested in reading. Will these pieces be perfect? Probably not, but that’s okay. Like a diamond, it’s often those slight imperfections that provide the most luster.

Neil Gaiman Addresses the University of the Arts Class of 2012 from The University of the Arts (Phl) on Vimeo.

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Cathartic Writing: Where to Turn for Advice on How to Turn Your Personal Demons into Story Gold

Writing comes from a very personal place and many writers agree that the process is an isolated one. Tapping into our own experiences when composing stories can, at times, take us to some pretty dark places. Cathartic writing is a way to unleash pent up emotions while at the same time creating potential ideas for characters and stories, but how much of ourselves should we put into our writing? Is creating a character much like ourselves a good idea when writing a novel, or does it just lead to awkwardness and self-aggrandizement? Can we remain objective and develop a plot successfully if we are personally connected to the events?

Personally, I think all writers should put a little of themselves into their stories. In fact, I’m not sure there is any way around having some of ourselves enter into our writing. Writers have often heard the old advice: “Write what you know.” Cathartic writing, such as journaling or blogging, can often lead to some great ideas, but sometimes those ideas can get lost in the shuffle. Maybe they don’t come across as well as we would like because we are too close to the subject matter to be truly objective. Can exorcising our personal demons morph into a great story, or will it just come off sounding like an overly-exposed therapy session? Who can we turn to for advice on this subject?

My answer: Stephen King. Stephen King is one of those writers who explores his dark side resulting in some fantastic storytelling. I highly recommend his book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. This book contains a lot of stories about his life and how those life experiences have shaped his writing. He is a man who successfully uses writing to overcome some of the personal demons with which he struggles. This book is a great guide for those writers considering using their cathartic writing to generate their own stories.

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As a Writer, Know When it is Over

Stephen Crane, Author, Red Badge of Courage
Image by Tony the Misfit (Getting Back) via Flickr
The story, that is. Recently I finished a sweet little Regionalism novel about two sisters growing up in 1950’s Milwaukee. It started out well with clever anecdotes and interesting characters, but when I got to the end of the book (or what I thought should be the end) the author rattled on for another two whole chapters. Quite frankly, it ruined the story for me.
As writers we are told that our stories need to have a specific beginning, middle, and end but no one seems to know just where the end should go. Is it where the writer thinks it should be or where the reader needs it to happen? A more important inquiry might be whether or not we as writers can distance ourselves enough from our writing to see where the natural ending should come.
A great novel will end right where we as the reader think it should. Or at least we will be able to understand, given the rest of the story, why an author chose to end it where he or she did. A mediocre novel will end about two or three chapters beyond that point with no rhyme or reason.
And it isn’t just books that fall victim to this conundrum. Many of us have watched movies that seem to go on way past the logical stopping point. Maybe it is best to follow the old advice given to writers and artists: “Arrive late and leave early.”

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Viva la Resolution

Father Time and Baby New Year from Frolic & Fu...

I’ve never liked New Year’s resolutions.  I’m not against the idea of resolutions themselves but most people that make New Year’s resolutions are just blowing smoke.  They’re counting on some mystical power of January 1 that just isn’t there folks.  They call it resolution but it’s usually self-pitying wishful thinking.  It lacks intent.

That said, I find myself at a spot where I need a little evaluation and revitalization in my writing habits.  It happens to be days away from New Year’s so I won’t be able to avoid it really being a New Year’s Resolution.  I’ll share some of my thoughts on making resolutions stick with you while simultaneously making my deadline for this blog.  I’m slick like that.

Write it down. It might seem odd to tell people who are writers to write stuff down but I’ll say it again.  Write it down.  This advice is given in all sorts of life-coach situations (fitness, therapy, business…).  It’s probably the most useful, easiest to use, and most often ignored tool around.  It feels dorky.  Hell it is dorky.  It’s also effective.  Effective out of all proportion to the effort required.  Seriously, write it down.

Be specific. ‘Write more’ is not specific.  ‘Start novel’ or ‘finish novel’ is better but you need specific goals within that category.  ‘Write everyday’ sounds specific but when?  ‘Monday thru Friday.  6pm to 7pm.  Phone off.  Door closed.  1000 word minimum.’  That’s specific.  Also be specific about what you’re working on.  If you like to revise as you go, schedule time for that.  Maybe ‘Saturday mornings.  8am.  Revise all pages from the previous week.’

Be realistic.  The goal of a serious writer is to write everyday.  That’s a good goal but if you really can’t make it be honest.  If you have to drive the kids to TaeKwonDo on Thursdays and wait around while they kick each other don’t schedule writing on that day.  If you can only get three days a week commit to those days and write on those days.  You’ll be more productive actually writing for three days than wishing you were writing for seven and only getting it done on two.  Make sense?

Build in assessment. Every month is a good time to reassess.  If whatever you tried is working keep at it.  If it’s not working, why?  Be honest, make adjustments, write them down and keep at it.

Failure is not the end. I’ve said this elsewhere but it bears repeating here.  If you skip a day, don’t waste time telling yourself how much you suck.  Definitely don’t stop.  That day is gone.  Forever.  There’s nothing you can do about it but you can write today.  So do that.

Be positive. Lose weight.  Quit smoking.  Stop cheating on my wife.  Most resolutions are to fix things people don’t like about themselves.  That’s fine but it’s counterproductive to hold on to all that negative energy.  Acknowledge the bad and then move on with the good.  Build good habits and celebrate your little victories along the way.  While you’re at it try and have some fun.

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