I’ve written since I was 11 years old. That means—never mind what it means in numbers, but it was a long time ago. Once I was out of formal schooling and in the travails of jobs, marriage, children—writing took the proverbial back burner.
As I perused writing magazines and went to workshops whenever I could, I kept hearing the advice: join a writers group. Unfortunately, I never seemed to be close enough to one to join it. Fast forward ‘x’ years—I was at a Sisters in Crime presentation and met a couple writers from the city I had just moved to. They asked me to join them at their local writers group, Write On, Right Now. It was sponsored by the library and open to all who were interested. I could join this one.
But I didn’t, at first. Fear and paranoia stepped in.
I couldn’t imagine that my writing would meet their level. Never mind that I’d written for regional and national magazines. Never mind that I had a novel nearly written, or that I’d used my writing skills throughout all my jobs, or that I’d coached writing in my kids’ schools. These people were in an organized group dedicated to writing and being published. What would they say about my writing?
It would take me some time to screw up my courage to share a passage or two of what I was working on, but their attitude at my first few meetings was welcoming.
They warn you to find the writers group right for you. I was ever so lucky to find that my first time at bat—although it took a while to get there.
I was familiar with how things could go wrong in such groups. Pettiness, jealousy, competitiveness. Critiques offered that were nothing more than condemnations of your thoughts, words, ideas, and philosophy of life, not to mention the outfit you were wearing.
Since this was a public library sponsored group, they took in writers of all genres, backgrounds, and skill level. There were infrequent preteen attendees. There were writers who had just published traditionally. There were writers exploring self-publishing. And there were people just beginning to explore writing.
Managing such a group is tricky. And to be honest, having multiple levels of skill made it trickier. But what made things really difficult was the fact that life happens. People come and go from the groups they join. Many of our new members were also new at writing and needed the basics of writing explained. Some writers who’d written for themselves for a long time needed submission and publishing procedures explained, and then didn’t want to have to do ‘all that stuff. After all, wasn’t that was the editors were for?’ (This became particularly tough for me to listen to as I’m proud to claim three editors amongst my offspring.) There seemed to be so much that people didn’t know or accept. I had doubts about staying in the group, and for a while I did stop going, although I didn’t officially quit.
I didn’t quit because I wanted the option to return. While the group had developed some problems, there was one constant: the way our fearless leader organized the group and ran the critiques. When I first joined and when I returned after my self-imposed hiatus, we didn’t read a writer’s material ahead of time the way many groups do. Instead, those who wanted to share their work read it aloud in meeting and critiques occurred on the spot. We’d circle the table and each of us would give our comments. There’s be some cross discussion, and maybe— okay, often—some explanation or defense by the writer. We didn’t get a great many critiques in during a meeting that way, but I sort of liked it. I didn’t have to rush to get through a bunch of stories at home, nor did I have to be thorough in my critique. Sometimes I didn’t have to say anything at all.
We didn’t handle the critiquing in the as well as we might have organizationally, but the important work was done in the best possible manner. Everyone critiquing knew that it had to be constructive. Not necessarily positive, but constructive and friendly. That was the kind of critique modeled by our leader who was (is) a writer and a librarian, the one who had initiated the group. For many members, this was the first demonstration of how to critique they’d ever had, and so it was the guidance they followed.
The hiatus I took was to complete a manuscript. I hadn’t shared my work often at the meetings early on, but when the manuscript was finished, I went back to the group to hear what they thought, knowing I could expect respect, sincere evaluation of my writing, and considerate discussion of what needed work. I had found my writers group
The group would change as time progressed; some changes forced by adapting to pandemic protocols. I’ll discuss those changes in further posts. Through it all, however, the core group developed into a tight-knit set of writers that have grown steadily in ability and steadfastness.