by TIM TOMLINSON & CHARLIE SCHULMAN
Don't expect to learn anything from your workshop instructors. Do educate yourself. The best way to educate yourself is to write, and the second best way is to read. Do a healthy mix of these two practices, and you can't help but improve. If you're lucky, you will wind up with a workshop instructor (perhaps even an entire program) that actually teaches something, but you can't count on that.
Don't expect to “become” a writer through your work in the MFA program. Do enter as an already working writer, with the habits of writing already established. Those habits are writing every day (or at least frequently), revising, and reading.
In workshops, don't be a critic. In other words, don't provide the academic history of a genre, its connection to other genres, its relation to political consciousness in Southeast Asia, etc. Do comment on manuscripts constructively and honestly, with an eye toward the craft, not the meaning.
Some workshops devote a lot of time to the meaning of the story, and to the writer's intention. But what if the writer came up with a wonderful piece that she hadn't intended? The poet Elizabeth Bishop says that she frequently wound up publishing poems that meant the opposite of what she'd intended. Meaning, politics, philosophies — these can all be enormous censors of the imagination, and to an emerging writer, the burden of saying the right thing is too heavy to bear. Besides, what does a bird intend when it sings, and what is the meaning of a flower, and what is the politics of a dream?
Instead, comment on the elements of the piece the writer can control: pace, contrast, exposition, clarity, motivation, verisimilitude. Help the writer master her craft; let the writer worry about her own political consciousness.
When political consciousness is foregrounded in the workshop, the writing begins to reflect the “correct” politics, and potentially provocative work (think Céline's Journey to the End of the Night, or J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace) might never make it out of the classroom.
Don't listen to everyone. If you were a painter, you wouldn't listen to someone who said “I love your green painting, but can you make it blue?” Some workshop comments are just as (un)helpful. In his excellent book on story structure, Narrative Design, Madison Bell claims that 95 percent of what you hear in a workshop will be worthless. That's a rather high percentage; we like to think that that percentage is a bit lower in our own workshops. But the point is, you can't write by committee. Ultimately it comes down to you, and to your own aesthetic.
Do learn to identify those voices in the workshop that do provide insight, and that do help you get through material, generate pages, and solve story problems.
Don't be afraid to make changes others suggest. Do keep your original manuscript intact. One of my students, T. Glen Coughlin, whose workshop material eventually became the novel Steady Eddie, used to go home after workshop meetings and enter every change the participants suggested. (This was an advanced workshop in which the participants generally offered useful, constructive critiques.) He would then print out the changes and compare them with the original manuscript. As per Madison Bell, many of those pages wound up in the wastebasket. But more than he would have expected actually worked to the novel's advantage. The point: Editorial insight from outside readers can be a wonderful asset. Often other eyes can see what the writer's cannot because the writer is so immersed in the material and in the original expression. It is rare that I quote the late President Ronald Reagan, but in considering workshop suggestions, it is useful to trust, but verify.
Don't ignore others' tastes. Do identify what others admire, and what you admire. If you're working under the influence of William S. Burroughs or Terry Southern, you might not get the most sympathetic read from an admirer of A.S. Byatt or George Eliot. And vice versa. Establish who likes what and remember those likes when you listen to or read comments.
Don't feel as if you have to read Finnegans Wake, The Man Without Qualities, or The Waves before you can contribute to or have an opinion about literature. Do read, and read around the genres, regions, eras. Try to read the books that make you want to write, the ones that you have to put down in order to get something of your own down. Read the books that make you want to read more. Conversely, toss across the room anything that makes you dislike reading or that makes you want to retire your pen (or keyboard).
Don't give up because you get a rejection. Do send out. Get rejections, and get revenge: Publish. When you peruse the shelves of the bookstores and the pages of the literary magazines, you can reach the indisputable conclusion that there is no reason to suppose that editors and publishers are in possession of anything but questionable taste. Therefore, when you're rejected by one of these philistines, think of it as an indication of the merits of your piece, rather than its flaws.
Don't worry. Do write. What if you set out to write Doctor Zhivago and you wind up with a manuscript that more closely resembles Charlotte's Web? So what? It is what it is. Your job as the writer is to get out of the way of the characters so that they can show us their own truth. If that truth is more clearly etched across a spiderweb than the frozen tundra, so be it. And remember, worry is interest paid in advance on a debt that may never come due.
Don't procrastinate. Do daydream. When it was siesta time, a Spanish poet used to hang a sign on his door that said “Do Not Disturb: Writer at Work.”
by CHARLIE SCHULMAN
Giving and receiving constructive feedback is an essential part of the revision process. Like with writing itself, there is a fair amount of trial and error involved, and your skill level will increase with (good) experience. The following guidelines will improve the quality of your experience in giving and receiving critique, once you've found your audience.
HOW TO RECEIVE FEEDBACK
Once you've finished a draft of your work, you will want to see what kind of response it gets from other people. You may be able to gauge from their response whether the work is compelling, funny, or sad. This kind of general response can be very helpful, but to get a more specific and nuanced take on your piece, you should show it to someone who knows what she's talking about. And, since a fair amount of personal opinion is involved, try to get a second or even third reader for your work as well. A writing group works well for this purpose: It allows you to receive a constructive critique. But if you live in an isolated area, you can look to online classes and instructors for hire.
LISTEN, AND DON't BE DEFENSIVE. Part of the problem with feedback in general is that most writers really only want to hear that their hard labor has resulted in an unparalleled work of genius. It is often somewhat shocking when the response falls short of unanimous praise. Therefore, most writers are defensive, and rightfully so. You must stay true to your unique, singular vision, but try to be open-minded — if only because this might lead you to improve your work. Don't dismiss anything out of hand. In my experience, writers who defend their work during a feedback session are not making productive use of the critique experience. If those critiquing your work have read your work, then they have heard what you have to say. The only time you really need to speak is when requesting clarification, and even then you should be brief. Take everything in and sort it all out later. Taking notes can help you to do this and to maintain self-discipline while you're hearing feedback.
LISTEN TO THE PROBLEM, EVEN IF IT's PRESENTED WITH THE WRONG SOLUTION. Sometimes respondents are way off base. But when they point out some aspect of your work that is unclear, illogical, confusing, repetitive, or lacking in some way, they are usually on target. This can be incredibly helpful if you have lost your objectivity and ability to see the obvious (in other words, if you're like most of us). However, while their identification of a problem may be correct, responders often shoot themselves in the foot by serving up a solution that in no way correlates with the writer's vision. When this happens — and in my experience it happens a lot — your immediate instinct may be to reject not only the off-putting solution, but also the initial critique. Avoid this pitfall — don't throw out the baby with the bathwater. Try to identify problems with your work and to separate these flaws from the suggestions that readers offer up as potential solutions.
DON't DISMISS ANYTHING OUT OF HAND. A suggestion that seems to have a lot of merit at the moment it is given may seem much less appropriate when you're back at your desk. Conversely, a suggestion that seems to make no sense when offered may seem ingenious later. A suggestion might morph into a better idea or make sense in a different context. It's in your best interest to consider all suggestions as having some sort of potential.
BUY INTO IT BEFORE YOU WRITE IT. Sometimes you will receive suggestions that you truly believe are useful from the beginning. But unless you can make sense of the suggestion and know how to implement it, moving forward will be a useless exercise. It is fine to experiment with new concepts and directions, but unless you are fully motivated and grasp what you want to do, the results will reflect your ambivalence.
DON't LISTEN TO TOO MANY VOICES. Feedback is a balancing act. One of the dangers of getting feedback is that you start to hear a lot of voices in your head telling you what to do. Unfortunately, these voices have a tendency to drown out your voice — the voice that drove you to write in the first place. Sometimes you can lose touch with the impulse that motivated you. Counteract this influence by remaining true to yourself. In the end, you are the person who has to be satisfied with what you have written.
HOW TO GIVE FEEDBACK
Giving productive feedback can be as important as receiving it, because it helps to create an environment where everyone involved can do their best writing. Keep the following in mind:
BE CRITICAL IN A POSITIVE AND CONSTRUCTIVE WAY. It's easy to tear a piece of writing to shreds, but being critical in a positive, tactful, and constructive manner takes time and careful consideration. As a respondent, your job is to inspire the writer to improve. You cannot and should not treat any work in progress with contempt, no matter how offensive or poorly written it may be. It is crucial that you establish a safe place for the writer to express himself and take chances.
VIEW EVERY WORK AS A WORK IN PROGRESS. You can be critical and tough, but remember that when a work is in its incipient stages, it has to be nurtured into existence. A work in progress should not be evaluated as though it were a finished product. Balance support with challenging suggestions.
TALK ABOUT WHAT WORKS. More often than not, we overlook what might be working well and go directly to what isn't working. Writers need to know what they are doing right just as much as they need to know what they are doing wrong.
DON't REWRITE OTHER PEOPLES' WORKS. Respondents often experience a strong impulse to impose their will on other peoples' work by offering suggestions that would make the work in question look and sound like something they would write. Look at the piece from the inside, and help the writer create what he wants to write — don't impose your own style or sensibility.
SEPARATE WHAT ISN't WORKING FROM YOUR SUGGESTION TO IMPROVE IT. When you're receiving feedback, you must separate the identification of a problem from any misguided suggestion for solving it. When you're giving feedback, identify the problem thoughtfully before offering up a solution to fix it. You don't want the writer to be so put off by the suggestion for improvement that he discards your brilliant criticism.