T.J. Robinson

It goes without saying that getting feedback on your writing is essential. So why am I saying it? Because this is a blog, stupid.

I’ve been workshopping my writing since I was 18-years-old; that’s over ten years of comments, criticisms and big personalities to deal with (mine included). The majority of workshops I’ve been involved with were through classes in writing courses, where workshopping is a component of the class. Most of these workshops were not good experiences. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a delicate hot-house-flower when it comes to my writing. Constructive criticism is the life blood of re-writes, so I say the more the better. But I was involved in some workshops at my course that were down-right damaging, to my work and to my psyche.

Worst of all is the person who wants to completely change your story. What it’s about what the characters are like, what they do and what they say. Basically they aren’t workshopping, they’re writing their own story in front of your very eyes. This person just can’t workshop and probably will never be able to; they’re a re too centred on their own ideas.

Then there’s the person who doesn’t like your story but can’t tell you why. This guy ums and ahs over your prose, pausing and frowning and considering- as if his comment is just on the tip of his tongue. What he isn’t saying is that he just doesn’t like you- therefore everything you do must be complete shit.

Of course there’s always the scared little mouse who says absolutely nothing. They don’t have an opinion and if pressed they will agree with whoever was the most vocal speaker. To be frank- they are a waste of time and space.

Then there are overly sensitive writers who can’t take any criticism at all, no matter how nicely you phrase it. You could spell out “I just think the main character’s name is a little long” in strawberry icing, on top of a double-decker chocolate cake, and they’d still sulk over coffee during the break.

Or writers who argue any point, any criticism. There’s nothing wrong with their work, there’s something wrong with you. You never worked at a cannery, where the story is set, so you just don’t get it. This is a story for cannery workers. Bloody hell.

It doesn’t help that I hate group dynamics. Talk to someone that works in market research and they’ll tell you how much of a role personality types play. There are people who try to control the group, others who will always agree with the majority, there are even people who will agree with whoever in the room is the most attractive. They actually have the different personality types mapped out so they can isolate them and make sure they get unaffected data. In my experience workshops aren’t much different. It can be tough to get useful comments while navigating a sea of other peoples neurosis and hang-ups.

Of course I have my own issues when it comes to workshopping, I have a tendency to push my comments too hard. It’s like I won’t shut up until the person pulls their laptop out and makes the changes right then and there. I like to think I’m just extremely passionate and a tad over-zealous, but other people have more accurately described it as annoying. Very annoying.

If it’s going to work you need to make sure you’ve surrounded yourself with people you like whose work you respect, people who will return that respect. And you might want to come up with some ground rules for your workshop. I had a poetry class taught by Earl Livings and he had a great list of rules for workshopping.

1) Everyone has to give two comments, no more and no less.
2) The comments have to be one constructive criticism and one piece of praise.
3) You can’t repeat anyone else’s comments.
4) The writer of the piece must remain silent throughout the commenting process.
5) Only when everyone has commented can an open discussion commence.

Whenever I am workshopping face to face to I like to use these rules. If you’re having trouble in you workshops maybe you’d like to use them too.