One of the things I love about writing groups is the support that we give each other. Sometimes this is via critiques and workshopping where we give each other feedback. This can, at times, be uncomfortable, but a good critique group is worth its weight in book contracts. Good critique groups help us to grow as writers, and let's face it: that's what most of us want to do.
Sometimes this support means going along to things together -- whether that's a night when one of the group is getting an award (such as the group from Sydney did for the FAW Awards, which I blogged about earlier) or just doing something together as a group as a bonding experience. Western Women Writers has had trips to art galleries to write poems, or to support a past-member who is an artist and had an exhibition. We've conducted launches of our magazine Poetrix, done readings together and attended residential weekends, hired people to run workshops for us, baked cakes to raise seeding money for the magazine -- all kinds of things.
Sometimes this support means picking someone up when they're down. Writing is a hard game. Few of us go through it without facing some kind of rejection. There are exceptions, of course (Isobelle Carmody comes to mind), but for most of us there are those depressing days when a manuscript comes back with a no-thanks (and if we're lucky a comment), or when we find out we weren't selected for a masterclass or workshop or whatever. One of my close friends is facing down this experience at the moment, having missed out on a place in a development program with a manuscript I thought was working really well. It is disappointing, but somehow being surrounded by fellow writers who understand, truly understand, what this kind of disappointment feels like makes it easier. Not pleasant, certainly, but easier.
We need to support each other through such times. Manuscripts get rejected for all kinds of reasons: not good enough, not right for the market, the slot that was going has just been taken, another similar story has just been signed, too long, too short, didn't like the main character... The list is endless. Our friends can remind us of the great things that our manuscripts have going for them. My friend's was full of terrific writing with great characterisation and setting.
The other thing about supporting each other is being able to rejoice in the success of others. My great friend, Sherryl, today was shortlisted for the Children's Book Council Awards, and I cannot tell you how happy I am for her. This is a well-deserved honour, and it's fantastic to see her up there with all the big names, because she sits rightly among them! So woo-bloody-hoo, Sherryl! Let me put my happiness out here in the public sphere.
Sometimes I hear of writers who aren't capable of offering this kind of support. They begrudge their friends their successes, seeing each as an opportunity they missed. That kind of competitiveness (the oh-you've-just-been-accepted-by-such-and-such-mag-so-I-must-submit-there-too) diminishes us all as people. This is not a competition; one person's fantastic success can open doors for all other writers, so we need to be happy about such things, not bemoan them. I really don't understand people who think otherwise, especially when they're your friends.
At Western Women, we have a tradition that anyone who has a success has to bring cake. It's not a recipe conducive to skinny writers, but perhaps it has fostered this atmosphere of goodwill that pervades the group. Personally, I don't know if this is the case or not, but I do know I enjoy working in such a supportive atmosphere.
Showing posts with label writing groups. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing groups. Show all posts
01 April 2008
21 September 2007
Writing groups: part 2: organisation/politics
Something else to think about in finding the perfect writing group is the organisational side of things. How often do they meet? Is it going to be too often or not enough for you? Most of the groups I'm in or have been in meet once a month, but Western Women is weekly, and SuperNOVA is talking about having a second, different kind of meeting every month, largely thanks to Ellen who came up with the brilliant idea of having a novel-writers' get together to talk about writing. For those of us not keen on workshopping, this is a Godsend. There's nothing I like more than getting together with writers and talking about writing. (Oh, except for writing, of course!)
Something else that affects organisation is the size of the group -- and this can dictate where they meet. Western Women used to meet in the Footscray Community Arts Centre, which was great when they had us upstairs in a gallery, but gradually we were "downscaled", first to a room in the dungeon (which I quite liked), then to a room where the potters met to make things, so the benchtops were often slathered with wet or flaking, dry clay. This didn't work nearly as well. Western Union used to meet at people's houses, but then the group got too large and found a space at a neighbourhood house, but many didn't find the atmosphere as convivial, so the group eventually went back to meeting at houses. Similarly, SuperNOVA (in its old Nova days) used to meet at a pub in Williamstown, but as it got too large it too moved to having meetings at people's homes, which works better for them. Melbourne Writers met at the Bailleau Library at Melbourne Uni -- this group, with about 80 members, was far too large to meet at people's homes, which is not to say 80 ever turned up for a meeting while I was there. Meetings seemed to average 15 to 25 people, but this brought in another set of considerations, because you had to book your workshop place months in advance, and the month before you would duly bring in 30 or so copies, hand them out, only to find the following month that only about three people at the meeting had attended the previous meeting and so had received your story, and the other twelve had never read it and had nothing to contribute.
SuperNOVA is another big, sprawly group, but one that eschews the regimented organisation of Melbourne Writers Group and tends towards a more anarchic approach. No booking schedules for crits. No hard and fast rules about when meetings are -- well, there are supposed to be hard and fast rules, but there's often someone who will say they can't make a particular meeting and ask if it be moved. The answer to this question should be no. Especially in a big group. But it often isn't. Then there is an awful lot of to-ing and fro-ing about when and where the meeting's going to be. Sometimes so much so that no meeting eventuates. I know it drives some of the more organised members balmy.
Another consideration is the politics of the group. Does everyone write the same kind of thing, for example, in SuperNOVA it's speculative fiction (science fiction, fantasy, horror)? If you're writing something outside of this genre either often or occasionally, are you going to be able to workshop it? Mostly, people are workshopping SF in SN, but occasionally someone will apologetically ask if they can workshop something outside the genre. I don't think they should be apologetic. We should all use our writing groups as best we can -- and while people may not have the writing or even reading experience outside their genre, we are all experienced readers, and can comment on things like characterisation, setting, words on the page etc. Nothing annoys me more than people who say, "I don't read this kind of story, so I've got nothing to say." That's a cop out. Melbourne Writers had a preference towards more literary fiction and poetry. In Western Women, I'm the only spec fict writer, though Sherryl does occasionally dabble. She's the only crime writer. When I first joined, they all seemed to be writing poetry, and I told them I didn't write poetry. I had no intention of starting either, and now I've had more poetry published than anything -- so a good writing group can expand your boundaries, as long as you leave yourself open to the possibilities.
Something else that affects organisation is the size of the group -- and this can dictate where they meet. Western Women used to meet in the Footscray Community Arts Centre, which was great when they had us upstairs in a gallery, but gradually we were "downscaled", first to a room in the dungeon (which I quite liked), then to a room where the potters met to make things, so the benchtops were often slathered with wet or flaking, dry clay. This didn't work nearly as well. Western Union used to meet at people's houses, but then the group got too large and found a space at a neighbourhood house, but many didn't find the atmosphere as convivial, so the group eventually went back to meeting at houses. Similarly, SuperNOVA (in its old Nova days) used to meet at a pub in Williamstown, but as it got too large it too moved to having meetings at people's homes, which works better for them. Melbourne Writers met at the Bailleau Library at Melbourne Uni -- this group, with about 80 members, was far too large to meet at people's homes, which is not to say 80 ever turned up for a meeting while I was there. Meetings seemed to average 15 to 25 people, but this brought in another set of considerations, because you had to book your workshop place months in advance, and the month before you would duly bring in 30 or so copies, hand them out, only to find the following month that only about three people at the meeting had attended the previous meeting and so had received your story, and the other twelve had never read it and had nothing to contribute.
SuperNOVA is another big, sprawly group, but one that eschews the regimented organisation of Melbourne Writers Group and tends towards a more anarchic approach. No booking schedules for crits. No hard and fast rules about when meetings are -- well, there are supposed to be hard and fast rules, but there's often someone who will say they can't make a particular meeting and ask if it be moved. The answer to this question should be no. Especially in a big group. But it often isn't. Then there is an awful lot of to-ing and fro-ing about when and where the meeting's going to be. Sometimes so much so that no meeting eventuates. I know it drives some of the more organised members balmy.
Another consideration is the politics of the group. Does everyone write the same kind of thing, for example, in SuperNOVA it's speculative fiction (science fiction, fantasy, horror)? If you're writing something outside of this genre either often or occasionally, are you going to be able to workshop it? Mostly, people are workshopping SF in SN, but occasionally someone will apologetically ask if they can workshop something outside the genre. I don't think they should be apologetic. We should all use our writing groups as best we can -- and while people may not have the writing or even reading experience outside their genre, we are all experienced readers, and can comment on things like characterisation, setting, words on the page etc. Nothing annoys me more than people who say, "I don't read this kind of story, so I've got nothing to say." That's a cop out. Melbourne Writers had a preference towards more literary fiction and poetry. In Western Women, I'm the only spec fict writer, though Sherryl does occasionally dabble. She's the only crime writer. When I first joined, they all seemed to be writing poetry, and I told them I didn't write poetry. I had no intention of starting either, and now I've had more poetry published than anything -- so a good writing group can expand your boundaries, as long as you leave yourself open to the possibilities.
20 September 2007
Writing groups: part 1: critiquing
One of my students asked for information about what to look for in a writing group. I feel like something of a connoisseur of writing groups, having been in four: Western Women Writers, Western Union Writers, Melbourne Writers Group and SuperNOVA (formerly NOVA). Each of these groups has been different in structure and in what they offered me. Some have been a better fit for me than others, but what is important is finding the group that offers you the best fit.
You need to decide what you want out of a group. Do you want a group that critiques your work -- that tears it apart and analyses it and says what's working and what isn't? A good critiquing group is worth its weight in published manuscripts. However, a critiquing group is not for everyone. Some people are not robust enough to take honest criticism, whether they are new writers or experienced. I've seen published writers come and sit through a critiquing session at Western Women Writers and quaver at the level of criticism. If you think hearing negative comments about your story may destroy your confidence, then you're not yet ready for this kind of group. Find another type of group, one that's more encouraging, until you're ready.
There is more than one kind of problem that arises in a group with a member who is not ready for workshopping. Firstly, it can destroy that writer's confidence -- especially if they're a new writer. (This can arise from both constructive and destructive criticism -- more on destructive criticism later.) The second problem that can arise out of someone not ready for workshopping is when they feel compelled to argue against every suggestion made. Nothing annoys workshopping members more than someone who is not receptive to comments. The workshoppers wonder why they have wasted their time when they could have been writing! Another form of this is the writer who seems to accept criticism but never learns from it, and continues to make the same mistakes, or even worse who re-presents the same piece over and over with virtually no changes, and all the workshopping suggestions ignored. (Actually, there is something that annoys workshoppers more: when the critiques are all delivered and the new member sits back with a smug grin and says, "Well, actually, you're all wrong, because that story's already been published." Don't do it. It's a sure-fire recipe for ending what could have been a beautiful beginning.)
Some groups are more supportive than critical. Western Union Writers is like this. If ever there was a group suited to the nervous beginner, it's this group -- and it offers plenty for more-experienced writers too. Writers take their work along and read it out loud and the the rest of the group offer gentle criticism and lots of encouragement. It's a great way to practise your reading-aloud skills, to network with other writers so you don't feel so alone -- the writer-in-the-garret syndrome -- and they do run workshops and have a writers' retreat once a year. Great stuff if that's what you're after and many writers are. And that's fine, but if you're really serious about getting published, at some time you're probably going to need a good critique group.
A professional-level critique group will give you far more criticism than pats on the back -- professionals hardly ever pat each other on the back. What they're after is ways to make this story the best story it can be, not an ego-stroking. If you want to be a writer you should shelve that ego right now! (Shelving it is good both to stop you getting a bighead when things are going well, but also to keep you from despair when they're not.)
A word about destructive criticism, because I said I'd come back to it. Destructive criticism helps no-one and shouldn't be tolerated. Ever. If you do want a critiquing group, make sure the criticism is constructive -- ie that it helps you by suggesting ways you could fix things. Years ago, after a masterclass at the Melbourne Writers Centre, I had one writer who reacted badly to a critique I gave on his story (which I thought worked very well overall) by sledging a piece of my work. He started out with, "I wish I could say something good about this story, but there was nothing." Luckily for me, the workshop convenor, Jack Dann had plenty of good things to say about it.
Clarion is an intensive workshop experience, and there's stories of writers who go and never write again. I know afterwards my own output dried up for a while, but I was suffering burnout as much as anything. I went into Clarion at the end of teaching,and in my six weeks living in a student dorm with no airconditioning in Brisbane's hottest summer on record (at the time), I wrote six stories (including a trunk story I wrote just before going up) and one collaborative story, 50,000 words of a journal, worked a little on my novel, critiqued over 500,000 words and then went straight from Clarion into a teaching round that had already started. Too much. But I can see why some writers never write again: it's a hothouse of emotions as creative energy is sapped by the relentless pressure, and the crits are hard (but fair). It's like the most intense writers' group you could ever imagine, but, yeah, you have to be ready for the criticism!
You need to decide what you want out of a group. Do you want a group that critiques your work -- that tears it apart and analyses it and says what's working and what isn't? A good critiquing group is worth its weight in published manuscripts. However, a critiquing group is not for everyone. Some people are not robust enough to take honest criticism, whether they are new writers or experienced. I've seen published writers come and sit through a critiquing session at Western Women Writers and quaver at the level of criticism. If you think hearing negative comments about your story may destroy your confidence, then you're not yet ready for this kind of group. Find another type of group, one that's more encouraging, until you're ready.
There is more than one kind of problem that arises in a group with a member who is not ready for workshopping. Firstly, it can destroy that writer's confidence -- especially if they're a new writer. (This can arise from both constructive and destructive criticism -- more on destructive criticism later.) The second problem that can arise out of someone not ready for workshopping is when they feel compelled to argue against every suggestion made. Nothing annoys workshopping members more than someone who is not receptive to comments. The workshoppers wonder why they have wasted their time when they could have been writing! Another form of this is the writer who seems to accept criticism but never learns from it, and continues to make the same mistakes, or even worse who re-presents the same piece over and over with virtually no changes, and all the workshopping suggestions ignored. (Actually, there is something that annoys workshoppers more: when the critiques are all delivered and the new member sits back with a smug grin and says, "Well, actually, you're all wrong, because that story's already been published." Don't do it. It's a sure-fire recipe for ending what could have been a beautiful beginning.)
Some groups are more supportive than critical. Western Union Writers is like this. If ever there was a group suited to the nervous beginner, it's this group -- and it offers plenty for more-experienced writers too. Writers take their work along and read it out loud and the the rest of the group offer gentle criticism and lots of encouragement. It's a great way to practise your reading-aloud skills, to network with other writers so you don't feel so alone -- the writer-in-the-garret syndrome -- and they do run workshops and have a writers' retreat once a year. Great stuff if that's what you're after and many writers are. And that's fine, but if you're really serious about getting published, at some time you're probably going to need a good critique group.
A professional-level critique group will give you far more criticism than pats on the back -- professionals hardly ever pat each other on the back. What they're after is ways to make this story the best story it can be, not an ego-stroking. If you want to be a writer you should shelve that ego right now! (Shelving it is good both to stop you getting a bighead when things are going well, but also to keep you from despair when they're not.)
A word about destructive criticism, because I said I'd come back to it. Destructive criticism helps no-one and shouldn't be tolerated. Ever. If you do want a critiquing group, make sure the criticism is constructive -- ie that it helps you by suggesting ways you could fix things. Years ago, after a masterclass at the Melbourne Writers Centre, I had one writer who reacted badly to a critique I gave on his story (which I thought worked very well overall) by sledging a piece of my work. He started out with, "I wish I could say something good about this story, but there was nothing." Luckily for me, the workshop convenor, Jack Dann had plenty of good things to say about it.
Clarion is an intensive workshop experience, and there's stories of writers who go and never write again. I know afterwards my own output dried up for a while, but I was suffering burnout as much as anything. I went into Clarion at the end of teaching,and in my six weeks living in a student dorm with no airconditioning in Brisbane's hottest summer on record (at the time), I wrote six stories (including a trunk story I wrote just before going up) and one collaborative story, 50,000 words of a journal, worked a little on my novel, critiqued over 500,000 words and then went straight from Clarion into a teaching round that had already started. Too much. But I can see why some writers never write again: it's a hothouse of emotions as creative energy is sapped by the relentless pressure, and the crits are hard (but fair). It's like the most intense writers' group you could ever imagine, but, yeah, you have to be ready for the criticism!
03 September 2007
New directions for a writing group
SuperNOVA the spec fic writing group I'm part of is going through a period of change. It does this periodically, such as when it exploded from being Nova (and, really, there was a problem with the name, given that Melbourne already had a longer-established and well-recognised group of writers, known as the Nova Mob) because of the sudden influx of Lita and the Clarionnites. At the party the other night, we were talking about the changes the group goes through, and how new members bring an influx of new stories to workshop and then the quantity drops off. This doesn't bother me so much because I do so much workshopping for work that, frankly, I have better ways to spend my weekends.
The reason for the current drop-off is that many of us seem to have switched to writing novels, though I must say that this has always been how I spend most of my writing time. And while certain members of the group sometimes make noises about pushing me back to short story writing, I confess that it isn't really my genre. I've never really felt comfortable in the short form, and a criticism my stories often draw is that they feel part of something longer. In any case, I can't really see the point. Short story writing is great -- if it's what you want to do. It requires a precision of language, a mastery of form, and I do think it's a great way to learn how to write novels because it teaches you stuff about structure, about finishing things, and about making every word count that all novelists should know. Yes, it is different, and yes there is more room in a novel to move around, but that doesn't mean there's any excuse for flabby writing. Short story writing teaches you how to hone the craft.
Workshopping novels, however, is a very different prospect to workshopping short stories. There is the one-chapter-a-meeting method, or the one-writer-subbing-big-chunks method, but neither of this are ideal, and some writers (hi, Mr Browne!) don't want others seeing a work in progress.
Ellen came up with the inspired idea of having a new kind of novelist's meeting, where novel writers get together and talk about the process, any difficulties they're having, what inspires them etc. This could also be a chance to do some plot brainstorming. Really, it's like taking the discussions of our dinners out and bringing them to the meeting. What a great idea! We have often talked about having a breakaway group: either a novelist's group or a fantasy writer's group, kind of a sub-group, but never got past the talking stage. But that was still going to be a workshopping group; this is something different. Something both more and less; something that excites me. I can't wait to see it happening.
The reason for the current drop-off is that many of us seem to have switched to writing novels, though I must say that this has always been how I spend most of my writing time. And while certain members of the group sometimes make noises about pushing me back to short story writing, I confess that it isn't really my genre. I've never really felt comfortable in the short form, and a criticism my stories often draw is that they feel part of something longer. In any case, I can't really see the point. Short story writing is great -- if it's what you want to do. It requires a precision of language, a mastery of form, and I do think it's a great way to learn how to write novels because it teaches you stuff about structure, about finishing things, and about making every word count that all novelists should know. Yes, it is different, and yes there is more room in a novel to move around, but that doesn't mean there's any excuse for flabby writing. Short story writing teaches you how to hone the craft.
Workshopping novels, however, is a very different prospect to workshopping short stories. There is the one-chapter-a-meeting method, or the one-writer-subbing-big-chunks method, but neither of this are ideal, and some writers (hi, Mr Browne!) don't want others seeing a work in progress.
Ellen came up with the inspired idea of having a new kind of novelist's meeting, where novel writers get together and talk about the process, any difficulties they're having, what inspires them etc. This could also be a chance to do some plot brainstorming. Really, it's like taking the discussions of our dinners out and bringing them to the meeting. What a great idea! We have often talked about having a breakaway group: either a novelist's group or a fantasy writer's group, kind of a sub-group, but never got past the talking stage. But that was still going to be a workshopping group; this is something different. Something both more and less; something that excites me. I can't wait to see it happening.
10 August 2007
Writers camp
Well, today was supposed to be the beginning of my big three days writing, and what happens? I get the cleaning bug. A procrastination tool? I hear you say. No, not really. I would rather be writing. I very rarely get the cleaning bug -- my mother would attest to this. She is forever telling me that I should be cleaning rather than writing. Can you tell that she just doesn't get this writing thing? Mothers!
Anyway, I've done enough and am just waiting for a writer friend who is coming over to print something; then I'm ready to go. In the meantime, I thought I'd better check my work emails, and there's one from a student who's just had a piece accepted for a mag, for which I have to write an accompanying piece on class dynamics. And of course I remembered I'm supposed to be chasing up a past-student who's interstate. So I rang a friend who I know has his mobile no, only to be told she's away on writers camp.
Oh.
I used to belong to the writers' group she's in, and remember those camps with great fondness. A weekend away in Torquay, with lots workshops from guest writers (and sometimes group members). My friend is leading one of the workshops this time. This is not a go-for-the-jugular type writing group, but one where everyone reads out their work and gets some encouraging comments. Trouble was that once I started teaching and spent my time reading so much student work, it killed my enjoyment of spending my free time listening to people read work that needed work to make it flow well. Perhaps that's the teacher's plight. I'm the same with my workshopping writers' groups -- I do it all week so doing it on the weekend is just like doing unpaid work.
But the camps were fun. Trouble was that the last few times I went, I was teaching, and taking up marking to do, and found I sat more and more out of the group readings, which made me feel rude. These days, an ideal camp for me is one where we go away and write. It's great to get away from the family and just do it.
Anyway, my friend has been now while I was in the middle of this, so I'm off to the other computer to pump out some words.
Anyway, I've done enough and am just waiting for a writer friend who is coming over to print something; then I'm ready to go. In the meantime, I thought I'd better check my work emails, and there's one from a student who's just had a piece accepted for a mag, for which I have to write an accompanying piece on class dynamics. And of course I remembered I'm supposed to be chasing up a past-student who's interstate. So I rang a friend who I know has his mobile no, only to be told she's away on writers camp.
Oh.
I used to belong to the writers' group she's in, and remember those camps with great fondness. A weekend away in Torquay, with lots workshops from guest writers (and sometimes group members). My friend is leading one of the workshops this time. This is not a go-for-the-jugular type writing group, but one where everyone reads out their work and gets some encouraging comments. Trouble was that once I started teaching and spent my time reading so much student work, it killed my enjoyment of spending my free time listening to people read work that needed work to make it flow well. Perhaps that's the teacher's plight. I'm the same with my workshopping writers' groups -- I do it all week so doing it on the weekend is just like doing unpaid work.
But the camps were fun. Trouble was that the last few times I went, I was teaching, and taking up marking to do, and found I sat more and more out of the group readings, which made me feel rude. These days, an ideal camp for me is one where we go away and write. It's great to get away from the family and just do it.
Anyway, my friend has been now while I was in the middle of this, so I'm off to the other computer to pump out some words.
29 July 2007
Group novel
Our writing group is attempting a group novel. It's the first time I've done something like this, but as with the collaborative short story I wrote with Bren and Zara, collaborators-extraordinaire, at Clarion South this is turning out to be an invigorating experience.
The project came about because we were talking about putting together an anthology for a competition, and I said it would be good if we could attempt something different because we've done the themed antho before, and it's always good to expand your boundaries. So of course our godmother, who heads the group and runs it with the strict eye of a mafioso matron, said, "What exactly did you have in mind?" And of course I had nothing, but that meant some fast thinking on my feet.
So we had another meeting about it, and I was supposed to come in with a more concrete idea when in reality all I still had was this fuzzy notion of what it could be. Thinking on your feet among creative people is always a plus because they can't help chipping in ideas. (Watch the slip into historical present tense.) Godmother listens to it all, putting forth ideas too, and then says, "Well, it could be one of two types of book. Which do you want it to be?" And she talks about the differences. One part of me hopes for one type because that will make me most uncomfortable, but I know too it might be too big a stretch for the group (except for Godmother who is comfortable in both genres). The decision is a group one -- this has long moved away from personal realms into the group consciousness, as such projects have to do to be successful. Everyone has to embrace it or it will fall flat. The group opt for the second option, and I'm happy because this is the one we all can have a go at. Godmother has taken a very wonky idea and made it happen. Every writing group needs someone with her practical know-how -- and her big stick!
And the plot ideas start to fly. Within an hour we have an expanded idea, a rudimentary plot worked out, five characters and their relationships, some minor characters (with a little fleshing out) and the first five scenes mapped out. And everyone's off to write.
One week later, everyone turns up with writing -- er, everyone bar me who didn't realise that we were supposed to have it started. Poor showing on my part. But I email my first scene and the next that night. One of the others emails me back and says I've been reading too much of my male students' work, which I take as a great compliment because I'm writing a male character.
Anyway, I haven't seen the group so energised for a while. Nothing like a new project, something different, to really get you going. I remember when Jack Dann suggested the collaborative story at Clarion. He was facing "the ferals" as he called us. Week 5. We were emotionally and, after four weeks of relentless Qld summer without airconditioning in our rooms, physically exhausted. He said he had to do something to get to us, and those stories really helped turn that week around. I'd come into it very low, and it turned out to be the most exciting of weeks. I think, similarly, that for us, this will be the time that stands out at the end of the year as the most fun and most productive for most of us. I'm really looking forward to seeing how it all comes together.
The project came about because we were talking about putting together an anthology for a competition, and I said it would be good if we could attempt something different because we've done the themed antho before, and it's always good to expand your boundaries. So of course our godmother, who heads the group and runs it with the strict eye of a mafioso matron, said, "What exactly did you have in mind?" And of course I had nothing, but that meant some fast thinking on my feet.
So we had another meeting about it, and I was supposed to come in with a more concrete idea when in reality all I still had was this fuzzy notion of what it could be. Thinking on your feet among creative people is always a plus because they can't help chipping in ideas. (Watch the slip into historical present tense.) Godmother listens to it all, putting forth ideas too, and then says, "Well, it could be one of two types of book. Which do you want it to be?" And she talks about the differences. One part of me hopes for one type because that will make me most uncomfortable, but I know too it might be too big a stretch for the group (except for Godmother who is comfortable in both genres). The decision is a group one -- this has long moved away from personal realms into the group consciousness, as such projects have to do to be successful. Everyone has to embrace it or it will fall flat. The group opt for the second option, and I'm happy because this is the one we all can have a go at. Godmother has taken a very wonky idea and made it happen. Every writing group needs someone with her practical know-how -- and her big stick!
And the plot ideas start to fly. Within an hour we have an expanded idea, a rudimentary plot worked out, five characters and their relationships, some minor characters (with a little fleshing out) and the first five scenes mapped out. And everyone's off to write.
One week later, everyone turns up with writing -- er, everyone bar me who didn't realise that we were supposed to have it started. Poor showing on my part. But I email my first scene and the next that night. One of the others emails me back and says I've been reading too much of my male students' work, which I take as a great compliment because I'm writing a male character.
Anyway, I haven't seen the group so energised for a while. Nothing like a new project, something different, to really get you going. I remember when Jack Dann suggested the collaborative story at Clarion. He was facing "the ferals" as he called us. Week 5. We were emotionally and, after four weeks of relentless Qld summer without airconditioning in our rooms, physically exhausted. He said he had to do something to get to us, and those stories really helped turn that week around. I'd come into it very low, and it turned out to be the most exciting of weeks. I think, similarly, that for us, this will be the time that stands out at the end of the year as the most fun and most productive for most of us. I'm really looking forward to seeing how it all comes together.
29 April 2007
Writing groups
On Friday evening, I went to a book launch. One of the members of my writing group, Western Women Writers, self-published her second book of poetry. Poetry publishing in Australia is a tough market to crack because it's so small. Margaret didn't seek commercial publication, I think, aware that her book would appeal to a niche market.
There's something inherently satisfying about seeing a project go from inception to published book, to hear the drafts, and to make suggestions, however small, along the way. It's a learning experience. Margaret credited Sherryl, in her talk, for causing a major change in direction in the manuscript along the way. That's one thing I love about writing groups -- hearing someone suggest something and seeing the possibilities.
I also love the support that we give each other. There's a lot to be said for a group where everyone works cooperatively rather in competition, which can happen too. Cooperation leads to everyone celebrating each other's success. In Western Women, the tradition is that when you have a story or poem or whatever accepted, you have to bring cake. Most bring it on acceptance. I tend to wait for publication -- so had to take one recently for a short story that was published in Fantastic Wonder Stories. I'm always circumspect about celebrating too early, because my first story accepted never saw the light of publication. The story, about 1500 words long, was accepted, and I was offered $450, much more than I've had for any similar-length short story I've sold since. Then, a month later, the magazine folded and that was that. I wasn't able to place it anywhere else. Sometimes, I think I should rework it and send it out again, but it's so old now that I look at it and cringe.
We also support each other through taking a plate to something like a launch, and it is lovely holding the finished product in your hand, and catching up with friends who I don't see nearly as much as I should -- some members of another writer's group I used to attend, and past students. The most rewarding part of all though is seeing the look of delight and pride on the writer's face. It's always worth going along just for that!
There's something inherently satisfying about seeing a project go from inception to published book, to hear the drafts, and to make suggestions, however small, along the way. It's a learning experience. Margaret credited Sherryl, in her talk, for causing a major change in direction in the manuscript along the way. That's one thing I love about writing groups -- hearing someone suggest something and seeing the possibilities.
I also love the support that we give each other. There's a lot to be said for a group where everyone works cooperatively rather in competition, which can happen too. Cooperation leads to everyone celebrating each other's success. In Western Women, the tradition is that when you have a story or poem or whatever accepted, you have to bring cake. Most bring it on acceptance. I tend to wait for publication -- so had to take one recently for a short story that was published in Fantastic Wonder Stories. I'm always circumspect about celebrating too early, because my first story accepted never saw the light of publication. The story, about 1500 words long, was accepted, and I was offered $450, much more than I've had for any similar-length short story I've sold since. Then, a month later, the magazine folded and that was that. I wasn't able to place it anywhere else. Sometimes, I think I should rework it and send it out again, but it's so old now that I look at it and cringe.
We also support each other through taking a plate to something like a launch, and it is lovely holding the finished product in your hand, and catching up with friends who I don't see nearly as much as I should -- some members of another writer's group I used to attend, and past students. The most rewarding part of all though is seeing the look of delight and pride on the writer's face. It's always worth going along just for that!
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