The premise of the creative writing workshop is that it takes a room full of writers, reading and offering feedback and working through the kinks of the story together. This approach has three obvious benefits: One, the writer learns how to improve the story in question. Two, the class develops their skills as readers and editors, building a technical vocabulary that will serve them in their future writing careers.
And three, the writer walks away from the workshop feeling inspired, encouraged, and motivated to continue writing. A good day in workshop succeeds on all three counts. But inevitably, there are times when these worthy aims come into conflict.
Take the following anecdote, from an MFA-level workshop: A student brought in a short story that was written in the second person. At the start of the workshop, the student announced that, while he was generally open to feedback, he did not want to hear any criticism of the story’s point of view. The second person was working for him, and he had no intention of changing it.
An awkward silence followed his announcement. If the goal of this workshop was to improve the story in question, some discussion of the point of view was essential. Trying to fix the story without addressing the unconventional narration would be like, as a mentor of mine once put it, “trying to make the bed while the house is on fire.” If the goal of this workshop was to educate the class and build up their editorial skillset, a candid discussion of the story’s narration was likewise essential.
If, however, the goal of workshop was to support and encourage the writer, the way forward seemed clear: the class should honor the writer’s request and limit their feedback to other, secondary aspects of the story. How an effective workshop should handle such cases depends on what you think workshop is really for. Nate Dern is a graduate of the Warren Wilson Program for Writers, where he received an MFA in Fiction.
He had applied to MFA programs because he wanted to develop a collection of polished short stories, which he could place in literary magazines and eventually publish as a book. The time he spent in workshop, however, did not seem directly in service of that goal. He described one illustrative workshop in which the story under discussion had a glaring craft issue: “We spent the first fifteen minutes speaking in these vague generalities, because no one wanted to get into the obvious number-one thing on everyone’s mind.” This approach certainly honored the goal of encouraging the writer in question, but it was not likely to give the writer an accurate sense of their story’s strengths and weaknesses, nor to educate the class in how to address the craft issue at hand.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
