Writing workshops can be wonderful. Name-brand workshops like the McCormack Writing Center and Aspen Summer Words can be a great way to connect with other writers, build community, and add strong points to your writing CV. If workshops are available in your area, they can be a strong alternative to hiring a freelance editor. Not only are they typically offered at a lower cost than one-on-one intensive feedback, but you can get constructive criticism and advice from multiple readers at once.
But workshops can also be frustrating or perplexing if you’re new to them. How can you possibly take the thoughts and opinions of several different people and cultivate an editing game plan? Do you have to take all comments seriously?
I’ve attended several notable workshops over the years, including at the University of Virginia with Sydney Blair, at Aspen Summer Words with Rumaan Alam, with Caeli Wolfson Widger at Teen Ink London (my first ever, way back in 2007!), and with Chelsea Hodson and Giancarlo DiTrapano at Mors Tua Vita Mea. In all those experiences, I’ve gleaned some tips to help you get through the muddle and have an experience worth the cost of admission.
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How to Have the Best D*mn Writing Workshop Possible
Know what you want to get out of the experience.
Why did you join or apply for this workshop? What is your goal for participation? Of course, your primary answer might be, “To get feedback on my work,” but what feedback are you looking for in particular? Examples might include, “I want to make my opening pages more dynamic,” and, “I’m having trouble finding how to convey my character’s motivation for the big action they take in Act 2.”
Take notes during your feedback session…
It may seem counterintuitive to take notes when you’re about to receive feedback from somewhere between eight and eleven people, but it’s a good idea to do so. Not everything that’s written in someone’s editorial letter will be stated during the workshop, and sometimes, it’s the group discussion that leads one of the participants to come up with a groundbreaking idea for how to fix a concern a lot of your cohort voiced during the workshop session. Taking notes throughout, the same way you might if you were actively following a university lecture, will provide you with a cohesive framework within which you can interpret their feedback.
…but don’t take any piece of feedback personally.
Sometimes, a particular story just isn’t a particular writer’s cup of tea, and that’s fine. In a general writing workshop, you might be tipped off that this is the case if you hear someone say, regarding your piece, “I don’t normally read horror/romantasy/memoir, but…”
Please understand that I’m not giving you permission to eschew this participant’s feedback—everyone has something to contribute, or they wouldn’t be in the workshop—but you should also make note of the two or three people who really seem to champion your story. These are the writers who really seem to grasp its nuances and what it’s trying to achieve, even if its execution is still shaky. Star their name(s) at the top of your notes, and when you review the group’s feedback later, prioritize theirs highly.
Have your questions ready to go.
For a long time, it was tradition for writers to not be permitted to speak while their work was reviewed by a workshop cohort. Then, for a briefer period toward the end of the session, the floor would open for them to ask questions. Some workshops have moved away from the “Cone of Silence” model, which can be especially beneficial if the cohort is harping on one particular issue for which you have an easy answer. Or if the cohort has gotten really far off-topic, which I’ve seen happen in the hands of an instructor who doesn’t have good classroom management and/or when the subject matter of a piece sparks tangential conversation (e.g., pop cultural references, intensely personal topics of conversation).
Either way, before you even enter the workshop classroom, have a list of questions you’re eager to ask your fellow writers ready to go. Sample questions might be, “What did you think of Joe’s backstory?”, “I’m going for a tone of gradually increasing tension. Did that work for you?”, and, “Did the twist on page six work for you? If not, what more would you need to be able to suspend your disbelief?”
Some of these questions will likely be answered during the workshop itself, but having the list ready to go can keep you on topic during your Q&A even if the workshop itself gets off the rails. And who knows? You might even add a question or two while taking your notes (e.g., “What do you think of this solution for the concern you all brought up?”).
On a side note, avoid the temptation to defend your work against every piece of criticism the cohort presented. It comes from a good place, certainly, but it can seem like you’re not receptive to further feedback on future workshop pieces.
If you disagree with a piece of feedback, refer to the “rule of threes.”
No, I’m not talking about the tipoff for when someone might be using genAI. Rather, what I mean is that, if you disagree with a piece of feedback, consider that one person suggesting a unique piece of feedback doesn’t mean all readers will necessarily feel the same way. At the end of the day, your piece is your piece, and you can agree to disagree with anything that feels out of keeping with the purpose of the project.
With that said, if two or three people offer up the same piece of feedback, no matter how much you disagree with it, try to find a middle path that honors both your authorial intention and the suggested revision. Embracing this constructive criticism is likely to make your story better or more engaging for its audience, so try to find a way to stay true to your aim while incorporating it into the work.
Be a kind and helpful workshop participant.
The golden rule is golden for a reason! If you want to get helpful feedback and vested interest in your work from your cohort, be sure to show them the same respect. Don’t save the drafting of your feedback for the last thirty minutes before class starts, hastily scrawled onto blank paper or into a drafted email.
Instead, give each piece two passes, one to get your footing within the beats of the story and another to annotate the manuscript to support your larger structural comments. Don’t say you didn’t like something without offering a potential solution to fix the problem. In doing so, you might make some writing friendships that persist long after your final session. (And you might get someone who’s willing to read a revised version of the piece you just workshopped!)
Don’t let time get away from you!
Finally, don’t let too much time pass between when you receive feedback on your story and when you start implementing said feedback. While their oral statements are still fresh in your mind, review your workshop cohort’s margin notes and editorial letters. Who gave similar pieces of advice? Are there more struggles with plot or character development?
A great way I’ve found to organize this material without getting overwhelmed is to:
Group it by the building blocks of narrative: Character Development, Plot and Pacing, and Thematic Elements.
Then sort the cohort’s feedback under the appropriate headings.
From here, triage the feedback; which items should be prioritized in revision? Which are smaller potatoes that can wait to be fried till after the bigger ones are baked? (I think I need some potatoes soon, guys.)
In doing so, you’ll be set up for success and be ready to submit to lit mags and/or agents as you please.
Have you attended a writing workshop? What was your experience like? What advice would you tell a first-time participant?
Share your thoughts in the comments section below!