This guide is for you if you're curious about workshops, interested in becoming a better participant, need to teach your students what to expect from workshop, or want to run a high-performance workshop of your own.
What, exactly, happens inside the hallowed walls of a writer's workshop?
By now you've at least heard the term "writing workshop," and maybe you've participated in a few. But really: what is a writer's workshop? How can you participate effectively in an MFA workshop—or any other workshop? How do you write effective workshop notes?
The rules of every writing workshop vary according to who's leading the group or the culture of the sponsoring organization, if there is one. However, there are some guiding tenets common to most workshops; participants who take heed get the most out of the experience. This is an overview I've given to my own students as they prepared for my undergraduate writer's workshop.
What is Workshop?
As part of the revision process, all serious writers take a step back from their work and read as if they were curling up with a story written by someone else, essentially becoming their own readers. This practice is critical in identifying when passages work and when they don’t. Some distance is required to read with this eye—a kind of deadpan objectivity that sometimes comes more easily when we’ve been writing for awhile. However, it’s not always a great idea to have this distance while you are writing your first draft because it may interrupt your flow—that subconscious madness that helps artists create.
That’s why writers, no matter how successful, rely on readers to give them notes on early drafts. Having a few trusted readers in your circle—mentors, agents, members of your alumni cohort—is invaluable. Workshop is just a method of getting reader notes in a group setting, say, if you don't have readers you can trust yet, or if you need other writers and firm deadlines to keep you in check.
Workshops can be the most effective, safe, and productive forum for beginning (and veteran) writers if participants offer respectful, constructive criticism and are committed to the process.
What to Expect
There are usually 10-15 participants in a writing workshop, sometimes more or fewer depending on the forum. Workshops of 20 writers or more tend to get unwieldy. The general rule on workshop size is, the smaller and more intimate the better.
Participants will sign up for a workshop schedule such that the work of two writers are reviewed every week. During the week, the rest of the workshop participants will read and comment on the work. When workshop meets, the readers will share their thoughts in an open forum, and provide comments to the two writers who've submitted stories for that week. (Note that the preceding scheme is for short-story workshops; poets might provide more than one piece; screenwriters might provide different workshop material at different times and/or have a different signup arrangement.)
Workshop usually institutes a "gag rule" on the writer—meaning she is advised not to speak while receiving critique.
The reason for silencing the writer is to avoid side-conversations and make the best use of the allotted time. Without the gag rule, a writer might defend her work rather than listening with an open mind, or she might explain her intent rather than letting the readers express what's happening on the page. In another scenario, the writer might be grateful for the critique, but the session might end up in a Q&A session about one comment, leaving no time for other helpful discussions. At the end of the discussion, the workshop lead will ask the writer if she has anything to say. She might just say "thanks," or she may ask a participant to clarify a comment.
Rinse and repeat, until all participants have received comments on their work. While it might seem as though you're only learning when your work is up, you learn just as much—if not more—by providing critiques to others, and observing as they receive feedback.
Workshops teach you how to view your own work with an objective, critical eye, regardless of whether you're providing critiques to others, or receiving it for your own pieces.
How to Participate as a Reader
READING: Read each work AT LEAST TWICE—the first time to get an immediate impression of the story (did I like it? did it move me?), and the second time to read more carefully and prepare notes. The first time through, read as a reader. The second, read as a writer.
THE BIG PICTURE: Read carefully for what the story is doing. What do you think the story is really about? What is the unwritten interplay between what's happening on the page (the "outer story") and what's happening inside the character's head and heart (the "inner story")? Remember that in the first draft, the writer often thinks she's writing about one thing, when in reality, the story's saying something else. That's why she really needs your help here. The heart of the story very often emerges on the page, and not from the writer's conscious mind.
AUTHOR INTENT: Try to understand what the writer intends to do with his work, resisting the urge to advise him on how to rewrite the story the way you want it written. Try to get inside the text and inhabit the story from the writer's point of view—with his intent in mind—just as you do while reading a polished piece that's been published in the pages of a book or magazine.
IN-TEXT COMMENTS: Mark up the manuscript on the second read with helpful big-picture edits, questions, suggestions, passages you love and passages you had trouble with. Come up with a coding system (and a legend if necessary) to avoid having to write the same comments over and over. Some examples: "!" (Wow, I love it!); "?" (I don't understand this part); "wc" (not sure about word choice); "[...] (is this part really necessary?); underline (this is important); double-underline (this is really important). Write your name in the corner of the manuscript before handing back to the author so he can put a name to the comments.
NOTES: Write a critique (I prefer letter format) to the writer. How much feedback you provide depends on the length of the piece or how much work it needs. For a 4,000-7,500-word short story, aim for about 350 to 1,500 words. You can find some guidelines for letter-writing here.
DISCUSSION: Once workshop begins in earnest, talk about what's working, but focus most of the conversation on areas that need work, and how those issues can be resolved vis-a-vis the story's bigger "message" and the author's presumed intent. (Note: A workshop leader sometimes begins by going around and asking each participant for one positive comment before opening the discussion up for critical comments.)
BEWARE OF CONFLATING AUTHOR AND STORY: Remember that in fiction, the author isn't the protagonist—never assume the author shares the protagonist's feelings, views, or experiences. It is critical to practice making the distinction between authorial philosophies and characterological impulses. If you feel there is a sense of “bigotry” or “sexism” or “hatefulness” in the work—interrogate the character and circumstances of the story, not the author herself. If the bigotry or sexism doesn't square with the story's ostensible intent, address the disconnect in the content of the work, not in the context of the writer's personal views. Conversely, if the bigotry or sexism seems consistent within the world of the story and its characters—and aligned with the author's intent—voice your appreciation.
BE AWARE OF CONTENT AND TIMBRE OF FEEDBACK: The best workshops are both productive and supportive. A workshop that only praises isn't accomplishing its sole objective: to prepare writers for smart, informed revisions. On the other hand, a workshop full of savage critique delivered with disdain and condescension isn't likely to work either; critique is best received when it's delivered with clarity and respect. Let’s treat other writers—and their work—the way we'd like to be treated ourselves.
How to Participate as an Author
WRITING: Submit work you care about—with numbered pages, your name in the corner, and as typo-free as possible. Don't submit an old, polished story just because you want people to gush about your work. Stroking your ego isn't the point of workshop, and if you paid to participate, submitting a clean story means you're not getting your money's worth. And if you're writing a new piece for workshop, don't write in anticipation of what you think participants want to read. Write for yourself, with attention to craft. Anything less, and you're not being true to yourself.
READING OUT LOUD: The workshop lead might ask the writer in the hot-seat to read a short passage from his work in his own voice. (The lead may also ask participants to suggest a favorite passage.) This gets workshop participants in the mood for your story. Don't be nervous, and have fun with it. It's the last time you'll be asked to speak before the bloodshed begins. (Just kidding!)
GAG RULE: Under any and all circumstances, repect the gag rule, no matter how much it hurts. It's for your own good.
NOTE-TAKING: Take notes throughout workshop, if you're able to while still remaining engaged. Not all the comments will resonate with you, so make checkmarks or stars next to the feedback that makes sense to you. Keep a copy of your own manuscript nearby so you can mark it up. Also, workshop can be awkward when others are critiquing your work. Note-taking give you something to do while you're gagged and in the hot-seat.
SPEAKING AT THE END OF WORKSHOP: Ask questions when the workshop lead closes the discussion. This is also a good time to ask for clarification on any comments that interested you. Be sure to thank the group for their time and effort—no matter how painful it might have been to sit through it.
THE AFTERMATH: You don't have to read the comments right away. When you do, mark up those suggestions that make the most sense to you. Give yourself some time to process the feedback before sitting down for a revision.
INTERPRETING COMMENTS: Readers aren't inside your head—all they have to go on is what's on the page. An author never has the benefit of defending her work while the reader curls up on his couch with her book, and in this sense, a reader's impression of your work is never “wrong,” per se. However, you’ll learn to recognize feedback that honors the work’s intent, and you’ll enact those in your revision.
RECEIVING COMMENTS THAT IRRITATE YOU: Sometimes the feedback that you resist with your entire being and sticks in your craw is the feedback you need to listen to. Why? Maybe it’s because you know it's addressing something you know isn't working, and although you haven't faced it yet, deep down inside you know it's true. Maybe it’s because the reader is asking you to work on, change, or eliminate a scene, a character, a writing habit, or stylistic choice that's not working on the page. Maybe the reader's asking you to eliminate a "darling”—something you love and refuse to let go. Listen closely to your emotional reactions to workshop feedback. With some distance, you might find the feedback that angers you the most is the most valuable.
A FINAL PIECE OF ADVICE: Remember that while your work might have come from a place that is near and dear to you, it isn’t You. Once it’s up for workshop, your work is a piece of art being consumed by the world. Just for the duration of workshop—a half hour, 45 minutes, an hour—try to maintain that professional distance and you’ll find workshop to be a humbling experience. It's an incredible honor to have a roomful of close readers who care about your work.
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