First off, bitch, whether or not your complaints about my husband’s and my critiques are valid–and I don’t think they are–mass sending an email about how you “can’t take it anymore” and “don’t think it’s fair” (WTF?) and asking at the end for everyone else to support you is beyond the pale. The only possible result of this is to divide the class into two identifible factions and lead to tensions that make the workshop process impossible. Congradulations! Unless some wise third party does some serious damage control, you’ve now wasted everyone’s $400!
Had you sent this email privatly, or brought the issue up with the professor and allowed her to mediate, I would be so totally cool with your complaints. I still don’t agree with them, but the three of us could have talked and probably all learned something. Certainly, as a future teacher I am deeply interested in the effect my words have on other people, not just the effect I mean for them to have, and I am always greedy for feedback. However, by making this issue public, and by structuring your email as a rallying cry for everyone else to jump in and get thier digs, you have made a constructive conclusion all but impossible.
To move on to the substance of your complaints:
Questioning the effectiveness of a piece of writing is not the same as questioning the sincerity of the emotions that inspired it. I believe you have deep, profound, and unique emotions. We all do. Writing is the skill of effectivly communicating those emotions, not a litmus test for whether you’ve “got it”. Like all art, it is a combination of talent and craft, and the craft can be discussed and improved. If I say “This scene seems implausible”, I am not saying “you are a big poopy head”–I am talking about a particular scene which rings false for some specific reason, which I will attempt to elaborate on. Sometimes people can’t give reasons why something seems awkward, they can only tell you that it does. That’s why you have a workshop–to gauge other people’s reactions and measure the difference between what you meant to say and what you actually said.
Your email is full of rhetoric about how our (my husband and my) opinions are not the be all and end all of fiction. Of course they’re not. I have no idea what lead to to think they were. I am saying what I think–both critisim and praise–and I think some of both is probably misguided. Take it all with a grain of salt. However, if you are interested in growing as a writer, you need heaps and heaps of feedback, both positive and negitive, both accurate and misguided. You take this big festering pile of feedback and you think about it, and think about it some more, then put it away for a year and pull it out again and think on it. That’s how one becomes a better writer. If you do not want to improve as a writer–if you want to write strictly for your own pleasure and emotional expression–that’s fine. Nothing wrong with that–it’s a much better hobby than watching TV. But don’t come to a workshop. Find a club that has the same goals in mind, or show your work only to family and friends.
If you think that the critiques you’ve been getting in class from my husband and I are attacks, don’t ever show a story to a real critic. We have bent over backward to find the strong points in everyone’s story–and everyone’s stories have strong points–and discussioned ways that those strong points can be expanded, developed, pushed into new territory. We have had strongly positive things to say about everyone’s story, including your own. We have seen problems in everyone’s work as well, yes, and we have pointed out what we thought were weak areas bacasue we hope and pray that that same courtesy will be extended to us when our own work is under discussion. If all we wanted was unqualified approval, we’d email our stories to our mamas. As my husband puts it, shallow, automatic praise pushes genius towards mediocrity.
The oppisite of “constructive” is “destructive” or “counter-productive”, not “deconstructive”, bitch.
I can’t send this to you, or really respond in any way, because such a response can only seem defensive and so spark a renewed offensive from you or a friend, leading to a flame-war and a totally ruined writing workshop. Are you so stupid that you didn’t realize that would be the result of starting a public feud? I am going to ignore you, and allow the professor to handle this as she sees best, because my major concern is the class as a whole, not your feelings about me.
And just cause I don’t think i have ever actually said this to someone:
a) Manda, Have you thought about chatting whith the prof yourself, telling him that you don’t want this to become a big flame war and ruin the workshop? It might be a decent thing to consider.
b) Hyper spaztic, Workshops get critisism. You get to learn what other people really think about your writing. Pulitzer Prize winners can still improve. Chill.
Having taught these things in the past, I’ll give one piece of advice. Whatever you do, do not write a story about the politics of writing workshops.
This happens in every class. Somebody thinks they’re the next Hemmingway, and all their friends and family tell them how great they are, then they bring it to class and it gets shredded for the claptrap it is.
I’ve even seen some good stories get shellacked for weak parts. A good writer likes to see his stuff ripped apart. That’s how you make it better.
Anyway, doubtless your teacher is aware of the problem, and will take appropriate action very quickly. Just keep doing what you’re supposed to be doing, and make sure you get your money’s worth.
My basic rule, was that you couldn’t respond to comments in any way, shape, or form other than to nod, or say thank you. If you had a problem with the criticism, you could see me after class.
If your teacher is wise, this person will be taken care of quite firmly.
Oh god yes…this was one of my big complaints about my college Creative Writing courses. If you want people to say how great your story is, show it to your mom. This is not the place for that.
And yes, even if it really happened it still may not be believable or make a good story or be well-written.
I swore, when I toyed with the idea of teaching such a class some day, that the following rules would be imposed:
No stories about the trumpet player/actress/ballet dancer/writer/football player who overcomes difficulty to become first chair/the lead/star dancer/published/first string. Yawn.
If it was just a dream, you get an F on the story.
If it was just a dream - or was it? - you fail the class.
Your final grade goes down one letter every time you utter the phrase, “But it really happened that way!”
Your final grade goes down two letters every time you utter the phrase, “I don’t write for other people, just for myself.” If that’s the case, don’t make other people read it.
Attendance is mandatory. If you have not read the story to be discussed, you will be asked to leave the room and you will not be counted as present that day. This is a workshop and as such you are required to participate. I can’t tell you how many people would only show up when their work was being reviewed. There is no better way to say, “I couldn’t give two shits about YOU, but please care about me.”
If you are writing in a very specific genre (romance, sci-fi, fantasy) you may be better advised to find a group specifically aimed towards that genre.
If you can’t take criticism, don’t bother. We are not here to get fluffed, we’re here to improve our writing. This does NOT mean that your job is to be as much of an asshole as possible, however.
If you think “lambent” is a batter word than “flickering” and refer to Bodhisattva in the hopes that no one else will catch the reference, please stop wasting our time. Go be obscure elsewhere.
My husband had composed a really brilliant reply to Bitch’s email–it addresses her concerns wihtout being confrontational–but I convinced it to run it by the prof first, as this is her class and seh may prefer that he just drop the matter.
Scylla, I know it is a fairly common problem, and not at all unexpected. I wouldn’t have bothered to rant–I wouldn’t have even been angry–had she just emailed me, or just emailed my husband. The fact that she mass-emailed the class and ended her email calling for other people to respond and join her in her blacklisting us–that was what made me so angry. It is intentionally divisive, and the last thing a writing class needs. I don’t care if she and her two or threee good friends get together after class and bitch about what a bitch I am. That is par for the course in a writing class. By forcing this issue into the public eye, she’s turned the normal frustrations of being critiqued into a huge conflict. It is totally unacceptable and were I the professor I would be seeing red.
My husband is in hte process of applying for creative writing programs on the graduate level ,and I sure as hell hope htat the quality of the workshops improves.
Amen. There are a lot of people out there who have been told all their lives that their writing is spectacular, superb, etc. by people who don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. When they find themselves confonted by people who have a clue, and who try to improve their writing, they freak out. Taking it to email, though, and trying to get the class to take sides. . .that’s beyond low. I hope that the professor takes some action to stop this, because when people form their little factions that resemble petty little 16th/17th century European countries, things start to suck pretty quickly.
And, Legomancer, I respectfully submit a number ten for your list:
10.) If you don’t believe in revision, don’t bother showing up. It’s a workshop; you have to work.
Scylla, Manda, and Legomancer, if any of you will be teaching a writing course anywhere near me, do let me know. I’d walk over hot coals to take it.
I love the craft of writing but I don’t have one ounce of raw talent. Any chance to improve what assets I do possess are always welcome.
And beleive me, I love to watch my babies get drawn and quartered. If my goddamned teachers hadn’t fawned over my writing when I was a kid, I might have actually learned to write properly.
oh, man…i’m in a writing workshop right now, and i agree so strongly with legomancer’s no. 8:
there is this girl in my workshop who cannot tolerate the slightest critique of her (juvenile and poorly plotted, imho) stories, but was a raging bitch about my story, implying that the main boy couldn’t possibly like the main girl cause she’s “sooo obnoxious” (well, genius, she’s 10 years old, and a lot of 10 year olds are a little overexuberant, and anyway, you are not the arbiter of whether someone is a worthwhile human) and pouting about my use of nicknames and excited language (again, she’s 10. years. old. She’s not going to be calm and sedate.) She does this to other people as well, and I just don’t understand how she could be so oblivious to her own hypocrisy. I mean, if you insist on dishing excessive abuse, be prepared to get it back in your face.
As I’m a future Creative Writing major, I’m bookmarking this thread. Hell, I’m printing it out and putting it on my wall.
Workshops are not therapy groups where everyone is suddenly struck dumb by the force of your genius. They are supposed to be vicious, and anyone going into one should be well prepared to sit there and take it.
I had a writing workshop last semester. It was for academic/professional writing, but all the rules listed above apply, and I’d like to add another item to the list:
You have to read what other people wrote. I never got feedback from anyone but the TA because nobody wanted to read what I wrote, as it was mildly technical. It was really frustrating, because I wanted feedback from these people–after all, they were my intended audience.
Damn, I’d give my left nut to have my writing ripped apart – good solid criticism is what I need to get my stuff in a state to be published.
Here’s the thing about criticism: If you agree with it, or at least can see where the critic is coming from, then nod and make a note. If you think they’re full of crap or just being vicious, nod and ignore them. Just because they have something to say about your work doesn’t mean you have to take it personally. I’d rather have someone point out a thousand things wrong with something I’ve written than just hand it back and say “That’s nice.” (Granted, I’ve been guilty of that a few times m’self – nowadays I try to at least point out specific things I thought were nice)
Oh, and that flaming bitchnugget needs to grow a spine and rent an ounce of maturity. Emailing the whole class is obviously her way of saying “You hurt my feewings, I wanna get back at you but I don’t have the balls to say anything to your face so I’m gonna throw a tantrum! Waaaaah!”
While I have no nuts to give, I’d give a couple of Twix bars to have my writing ripped. I’ve been lucky enough to have it done a couple of times, always for the betterment, but nothing for my latest book. Damnit, I’m tired of rejection letters. The problem is, I didn’t enjoy the writing workshop I belonged to; too cliquish and most of the people had no clue about fantasy and science fiction and their advice was just not helpful. I’ve gotten better help from a friend who actually reads fantasy, but she doesn’t intend to write and I feel guilty asking for critique beyond a simple, “Anything stick out like a sore thumb?” At least she’s not afraid to tell me, though.
I would like to do a writing exchange with another fantasy/sci-fi writer who wants serious critique. I’m about to start my third book. ::HINT::HINT::
Anyone interested can send me an AIM at charke2, but please say that you saw this message because I get tons of IM’s for Majestic and I may delete it otherwise.
I think the title of the thread says it all. I also think that, the way the workshop would operate and the feelings of discomfort that this would cause, should have been made plain to the participants before hand.
Scylla’s rule for responding to criticism is entirely appropriate. If I were running a workshop I would provide participants with a list of rules regarding their conduct, including banning backstabbing of the nature described in the OP.
I have used this method with kid’s sports teams that I have coached. I provide the parents with a list of rules to govern their behaviour so that they don’t impinge on the children’s enjoyment of the sport - the sport is for the child’s enjoyment, positive cheering only, no bitching and moaning about decisions or luck and so on.
Look through some of my old posts, I’m terrible about run-on sentences, and overuse parentheses so much that my posts often resemble LISP programs - it’s not uncommon for me to incluse a set of parentheses nested within another pair.
I really dislike people who ask you what you think and then are upset because you criticise their work. I’ve made a rule for women I’m romantically interested in - do NOT show me your poetry. There is a lot of published poetry written by professionals that I cannot stand, and it’s very rare that I read something by someone I know and think it’s good. A girl I dated before meeting my wife made me read some of her poetry, and it was some of the most godawful dreck I’ve ever read - imagine an unholy hybrid of Vogon poetry, bad goth music lyrics, and the worst of the Beat Generation, with a big dose of profanity. I cringe remembering how it made me feel, though I’ve blocked the actual poems from my memory.
Anyway, my wife wanted me to read some of her poetry, and I told her about my rule and my high standards. She insisted, so I told her to show me only her best stuff. There was a some that made me cringe a little, but some of it was decent. Oddly enough, her better poems were based on D&D stuff, which normally would be setting off all my alarms, but I was reminded of old epics like Beowulf.
It hasn’t been going very steady lately, but I’ve done some criticism on there, and it has been well recieved. If I can make the time, I’d be glad to give an honest attempt at story-telling a serious critique. But please don’t waste my time and yours by posting something if you aren’t prepared to listen to what I have to say. I’m not in this just to be an asshole. I give a shit about writing enough to bother trying to get through to people who don’t want to hear it, and I believe in the writing school of hard knocks. I’ll try to frame the bad news in light of the good, but that’s not always easy – not that I think any of this should be easy. That’s why writers get the big bucks, because they learn their craft by putting up with puppy-kickers like me.
[bad workshop]
::blinks as I come out of an unrelated daydream to realize that the circle is looking expectantly at me::
::I pretend to look at the copy of the OP::
Er. I…er, really like it, Manda. It has great…structure, and the way it flows. The way it’s all coherent and reasonable but shows the anger at the same time, and then the way it ends with the fuck-you is like a surprising twist that’s…not…surprising? I think it really has…um…potential!
[/bad workshop]
I’ve become irritated at one point or another in every one of the creative writing courses I went through in school precisely because they tended to be mutual admiration societies. The last one in particular was a waste of my time. If the clueless whining waste of muse in question here is only a notable exception in yours, I feel envy. But putting that aside, hopefully the prof comes down on her like a ton of bricks. “Drama class is down the hall, dear. Never pull this shit in my shop again.” And then she’ll have a meltdown and drop out.
