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Coming
in
2014! 
Creating Stories that Make a Difference:
Advice & Guidance for Interpretive Writing and Writers
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Behind the Scenes, part 4:
Creating a Writing Workshop
We're into the home stretch on this multi-part series about creating writing workshops and what happens in a good one. Thanks for sticking with me--I know it's a lot of email in a short period of time, and I truly appreciate your enthusiasm.
Between now and Friday, I'll wrap up the series--one, maybe two, more installments--and then it will be time to shift gears for final preparation for Anza Borrego Foundation's Nature Writing Workshop. It begins Sunday, January 26, but if you want to come, you have to sign up by midnight this Friday, January 17.
If you've just joined us (or want to re-read the earlier parts), here's where you can find them:
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 3.5
And now (drum roll, please)--
Part 4: On avoiding flashbacks
to eighth-grade English
When it comes to writing workshops, I've been incredibly fortunate. Out of all the workshops I've attended, only two were duds, and I learned important things from both of them. Come to think of it, the main thing I learned from both might have been the same lesson.
One was a weekend workshop I organized for my own writing group. The Famous Author we'd hired talked to us mostly about plot, then critiqued the pieces we'd sent to her earlier. She told me I needed to change my essay so the ending wasn't so sad. Even the great tragedies, like Macbeth and Hamlet, didn't end at the lowest point, she asserted.
I hadn't seen or read Macbeth, and I thought that Hamlet, where at the end, everybody dies and the only person left standing is the conquering ruler who simply asks, "What just happened here?" ended at a pretty low point, but I didn't argue. Instead, I spent the next two weeks trying to "fix" my essay. But with every change I tried, the entire thing fell apart. The more I tried, the worse I felt, more and more convinced I'd never get it right, that I was stupid, that the essay was hopeless. I felt my eighth-grade English teacher (she of the prolific Red Pen) standing over my shoulder tsk-tsking.
Two weeks--that's all the time I had, because then it was time to leave for Moab, to attend what had by now become an annual pilgrimage. I'd submitted the same essay months earlier to Louis Owens, who was teaching that year's creative nonfiction workshop.
The first morning, Louis asked me to read my essay to the group. I don't get stage fright and I rarely have trouble reading my work to others, but this time, with Famous Author's confident criticism banging around in my brain, I felt that cold fist of fear sitting in my gut. Louis was patient, waiting while I took a couple of deep breaths, and then I read.
The discussion that followed touched on the use of details, internal dialogue, and the shifting focus of attention. At the end of the discussion, Louis asked if anyone had suggestions for improvement. People fidgeted, trying to think of something specific, some glaring error we'd all overlooked. After a long wait during which no one said anything, Louis smiled and said, "It doesn't need any changes, does it." Then he looked straight at me and said, "Don't change anything, except maybe the title."
When we broke for lunch, he asked if I'd be willing to submit the essay to the literary magazine he was guest editing. I said yes (of course), then told him about Famous Author's feedback and my failed attempts to fix something that, it turns out, didn't need fixing.
Louis pointed out that each writer is different, and that the differences sometimes get in the way of being an effective critic, editor, or teacher. "It sounds like she wasn't a good match for you," he said. "You have to consider the source of the feedback as well as the feedback itself. Not everyone's going to be a good match, even if they're successful."
Not everyone's a good match; consider the source of the feedback. Lovely gifts, hard earned, that kept the pathway of writing open for me.
The second not-so-successful workshop was a year-long one that met weekly. It provided some much-needed structure and in many ways, it pushed me in new and good directions. But by the end of the year, I felt bruised and battered. I felt stifled, as if my creativity, my creative process--the way I think about and develop stories--was being squashed. I felt...like my eighth-grade English teacher (she of the prolific Red Pen) was...
Oh, yeah. Same problem, same lesson.
This time, I had enough experience as a workshop leader myself--as well as a student and writer---to identify the specific things that made this particular instructor "not a good match." It would have been nice to catch this earlier, before my confidence started wavering and the Red Pen dreams began, but sometimes, the lesson takes longer to learn.
The next time I taught one of my own workshops, I double-checked everything. I wanted to make sure I wasn't falling into habits that would make me and my workshops "not a good match" for others.
I want my writing workshops to empower, not intimidate. I want my workshops to open up everyone's creativity, not shut it down under the guise of rules and one person's proclaimed "right" answers. I want my workshops to be practical and effective, with opportunities to experiment, explore, write--and write well--increasing our confidence at the same time we improve our skills. And the only time I want to trigger flashbacks of red ink rivers is when we're writing stories about them and need to remember the details.
Key takeways I build into my workshop
Not everyone's a good match, and that's okay.
A "good match" begins when I create a safe, supportive, and inviting space for writing and creativity, regardless of writing topic, style, experience, or genre.
A "good match" includes patience and the willingness to wait while a writer gathers her courage and voice.
Fall down, get up. Feel like a failure, write more anyway. Feel brilliant, write more anyway. Keep writing, no matter what anybody says.
NEXT: part 5, The gift of time
And speaking of time: there's not much of it left before registration closes for the Anza Borrego Foundation Nature Writing Workshop.
Registration closes at midnight, Friday, Jan. 17--
sign up today!
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'Til next time--
Judy
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(with optional group gathering Friday morning,
Jan. 31, before check-out)
Palm Canyon Resort
Borrego Springs, CA
(about 2 hours east of San Diego)
Give your writing a boost in 2014!
Join the Anza Borrego Foundation (ABF) and Palm Canyon Resort for a 4-1/2 day writing workshop led by Judy Fort Brenneman. Over the course of the workshop, you'll go on 2 field trips, have daily workshop sessions with different topics of focus, an optional one-on-one session with Judy, and time to write, reflect, and explore.
Unlike conferences where you only talk about writing, at the ABF nature writing workshop,
you'll write.
- Whether you write poetry or prose, nonfiction or fiction--
- Whether you're sure you're a "nature writer" or not sure what "nature writing" really is--
- Whether you're a beginner or a long-time story-maker--
REGISTER HERE
STILL HAVE QUESTIONS?Email Judy or call 970/416-6353.  | |
Palm Canyon Resort, Borrego Springs, CA
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About the Instructor: Judy Fort Brenneman is an award-winning author, essayist, and playwright as well as a popular writing workshop leader and writing coach. Through her company, Greenfire Creative, LLC, she helps people, agencies, and organizations tell their stories. To learn more, visit our website or contact Judy
by email: judyb@greenfire-creative.comor by phone: 970/416-6353
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