I Spent Four Years in a Writing Group

This is what I learned

I’ve been teaching college students how to write for the past 20 years. About four years ago, I realized that my own writing had completely dried up. I spent long hours evaluating essays, but that had turned me into an editor, not a writing teacher.

Would you trust Mary Berry to judge your cake, if she never baked?

Not only did my credibility need refreshing, I also missed writing.

On my own, I couldn’t get motivated.

A week later, I saw that a good friend of mine was offering a creative writer’s course at a local venue. What timing.

I signed up for it. The eight week course she offered cost $100; not expensive, but expensive enough for me not to want to blow it off.

Lesson One: Getting Over my Ego

During the first few weeks of class, I had a bad attitude. The teacher, whom I dearly loved, had recently completed a Women’s Studies program that involved a lot of writing, but she had never been a writing teacher. Her grammar wasn’t perfect, and I let that bother me. I wondered if I could learn anything from her.

Also, I didn’t think the other students were fantastic writers. We all seemed to have about the same skills. And, I was apprehensive because one student was a minister.

Great. Now she’s going to judge me and hate me, because I write about sex.

Writing about my sexuality, my food issues, my “tough” childhood, and all of my regrets was something I felt I needed to do. I loved to read about others’ experiences with these issues, and I admired people who could share personal details, but I was worried about being judged for doing it myself.

The first time I brought a story about a sexual experience, I was petrified. I read it with my head down, mouth dry, hands shaking.

I spent the first 18 months of classes getting out all of the crap that I wanted to release about regrettable actions from my childhood (such as kicking my passive sister in the ass with my clog, as she cowered against the basement wall), my sexuality (I’m attracted to women — the horror!), and my anger at my mother (she didn’t show affection. Poor me.)

What I got back was positive feedback and loving acceptance. No one threw food at me. No one hissed. No one even shook their head (that I could tell.) Tears filled my eyes.

At first, I thought my goal was to “publish my memoir,” since our teacher encouraged us to publish. But then I realized that, as much as I wanted to be, I was no Mary Karr, Tara Westover, or, my favorite, Augusten Burroughs. I had a relatively smooth upbringing, and even though I tried to write about it in an entertaining way, having the group read it was validation enough. I had been accepted.

I wasn’t a terrible person.

Feeling like a weight had been lifted, I could move on with my writing and my life.

Lesson 2: Being Held Accountable

Having to produce writing every week got me motivated. I mean, we weren’t spanked (unfortunately) if we didn’t write, but then we had nothing to share with the group. I didn’t want to look like a slacker, and I enjoyed producing the pieces. It was a perfect balance of intrinsic and extrinsic motivation.

Our teacher would offer writing prompts, and we did freewriting exercises in class. We could expand on those topics, or select something else for our homework. But starting is often the hardest part, and beginning our work in class made it easier to complete at home.

Knowing that I would get helpful feedback, praise, and appreciation for my writing was a great incentive. Too often, beginning writers will try to submit their work to overworked editors at large publications, and then get rejection notes with no feedback. It can kill your confidence. Being able to get detailed feedback and ask questions of your readers is extremely helpful, no matter what your writing skills are.

Lesson 3: Learning from my Peers

In my small midwestern town, I didn’t expect to end up in such a skilled group. There were eight of us. One member, a woman in her 80’s, was a real poet whose work resembled Mary Oliver’s. One person was attempting science fiction, using literary devices I hadn’t thought of before. There was a young woman who had written a lengthy historical fiction novel, and she was revising it. I bow down to her powers of description. Another student was writing about the sudden death of her 19 year old son. I didn’t want to read it, fearing how painful it was going to be. It was painful, and also beautiful. I learned that someone’s child can die, but they can still go on to have a good life.

Everyone had different interests, different skills, and different writing levels. We learned new techniques from each other, and we learned how to make our writing better over time. We developed a deep trust in each other, sharing personal stories, and we learned to accept suggestions. We helped each other as much as the instructor helped us.

Three of us have now published books, and two more are writing consistently for publications. None of us began as professional writers.

I have four years of notebooks filled with ideas for future essays, but I also keep developing new topics. I have a group of writers to send articles to for feedback, whenever I want. I was able to witness their growth, their struggles, their epiphanies, their success.

The writing group was just the kick in the pants I needed to restart my writing career.

Now that we’re all online anyway, you can meet with people from anywhere in the world, for free.

If you can’t find a group that fits your needs, why not start one?

You won’t regret it.