Unsolicited Advice for New Writers from Someone Unqualified to Give It Volume 1: Workshops; Soooooo productive.

I think once upon a time it was a useful exercise for writers with comparable styles and politics to sit around in a circle and cry about the first time daddy touched their no-no places, and to explore why that made them write primal scream poetry. That’s still sort-of-kind-of the case, but mostly not.  Like any classroom setting, the instructor knows that 70% of attendees are just phoning it in for an English credit, 10% will drop out, 10% will be bearable (just), and the top talented 10% will shine and grow provided they can discipline themselves to the point where they contribute meaningfully.  Mostly, writing workshops are either big whiny pussy parties, epic fail conferences, or collaborations between the unwitting and the unwilling, so let’s examine those three configurations.

1) Big Whiny Pussy Party – In this kind of workshop, the self-loathing reaches critical mass, and the whole thing implodes into a morose, sniveling blob of incest poetry and prose of rape and abuse.  Forget about the top talented 10% of kids who bring in actual tight work – they will be dragged down into a swirling vortex of miserable one-upmanship, abandoning their mature and polished pieces for a collection of weeping self-pity.  This goes on until someone kills themselves from depression, or more likely, someone finally reveals that they had a perfectly happy childhood, and that per the tenets of a writing workshop, the whole thing was made up.  Everyone feels silly, and proceeds to turn in unsettling "alternative" fiction about talking cats before getting a C+ for the semester.

2) Epic Fail Conferences – In a workshop, someone, somewhere, is going to do it wrong.  That’s fine.  Every workshopper should expect that you’re going to get a story about a guy who is just a guy and who doesn’t do anything and then everyone likes him, the end.  Or a story about a girl whose life is not good, then she goes to therapy, and her life is good, the particulars of which are usually described in an epilogue that is longer than the actual story (I call this a “girl gonna get her head right.”)  Forget about the top talented 10% - they will recognized early on that NO ONE in that class has any criticism worth hearing, and that anything they contribute will be as pearls before swine, warded off with the usual shield of “But that’s what actually happened!” (fiction workshop) or “But that’s what should have happened!’ (Non-fiction workshop).  This continues until someone kills themselves from frustration, or until the talented kids stop attending, preferring to go drink beer and screw each other during class time, and submitting work to the professor during office hours, barely earning a C+ for the semester.

3) Collaborations between the Unwitting and the Unwilling – Some writers are talented beyond their years - all writers think they are.  A collaboration between the unwitting and the unwilling occurs when one or two prima donnas (the unwitting) hijack the workshop either by over-submitting, over-criticizing, or making some manner of scene every time the class meets.  This may involve a tearful breakdown, a stomp-out, horse-laughing at students they consider inferior, or just telling loud obnoxious stories that get stuck in your head like that fucking Brittney Spears song (Womanizer, womanizer baby you’re a womanizer…).   Bear in mind that the top talented 10% are not necessarily the unwitting – anyone can make a scene.  The unwilling, meanwhile, which may very well include the top talented 10%, usually stop showing up or manage to sleep during class.  Forget about the top talented 10% - everyone else will when the class drama queen totals his or her car (don’t worry, the car will be fine by next week) right before class and then pretends to have a concussion. This continues until I get an A in the class and then go on to start a blog. 

There have been some great criticisms of workshops going around in the last few months, of which I think the best is this hot mess from June of 2009.  On the other hand, I can’t in good faith recommend that anyone read Art School Confidential and drop the idea of an arts education altogether because there are too many good things to be gained – mostly banging your fellow students and having free drinks at your professor’s house all while being granted an irrevocable license to act like a total drunken asshole because hey, you’re an artist.

Workshops can be a super mega awesome way to get involved in your communities art scene, gain invaluable contacts, and hear criticism from like-minded individuals.  That’s the kind of shit that Hemingway, Stein et al were doing in Paris.  The institutionalized workshop smacks to me of forced democratization, the idea that everyone should submit and everyone should have a say.  The workshop works best when the top talented 10% find each other, do their thing, and leave the workshop well behind.