Every local newspaper lists free opportunities for self-improvement
— art classes, aerobic workouts, meditation zazens, book schmooze-fests and, of
course, writing workshops. Plenty to choose from.
So when a well-known writing workshop leader shot at me,
“Why don’t you teach your own writing workshop?” I was dumbstruck.
“Who needs another writing workshop?” I asked.
Today, having taught a creative writing workshop for
almost twenty years, I don’t ask anymore. I know now there’s plenty of room for
self-improvement.
But throughout all these years I haven’t stopped asking
myself: What makes one come? What makes one stay? What makes a workshop a learning
experience?
Teaching the workshop afforded me a close look into myself
— the reasons my work-shoppers come, it turned out, are the same reasons that
made me always come:
1.Pregnant with a story.
Bad things happen to all of us. We have to exteriorize the
experiences in order to become stabilized — “Everybody has a story to tell,”
the saying goes. We need to unload the burden. To unload the burden writers need
to write it, unload it in writing.
Sometimes, the burden is happiness. Recently, a story
written in the workshop placed second in The Heartlight Journal’s Childhood
Memories Contest. For the Author, John, it was the first publishing credit and
first cash won for writing. Traditionally, we threw a party for the winner.
What’s fascinating, for John, 75, the workshop exercise was a part of his
reconciliation with his family — a happiness he could hardly wait to unload.
Most of the times, alas, the burdens haven’t been
happiness.
Some of my work-shoppers have shared stories of child
abuse, rape, heart-attacks, homophobia and anti-Semitism.
We
listen, let the writer relieve the past, offer a hug, sometimes a glass of
wine. We sympathize. We identify. We suffer all.
However, writers get a terrific break: why other people
cry sharing their misfortunes, writers laugh all the way to the bank.
2. Community of writers.
I have known a party animal or two among my writing
friends, but writing is the loneliest business. Must be. Writing is expressing
one’s crazy vision — can’t be done in company. On the other hand, we need the
community of other crazy people to stay sane.
Teaching the workshop made me also realize why
work-shoppers stay. They stay for the same reason I have always stayed in any
workshop:
3. Work-shoppers keep writing.
There’s no ersatz for the joy of the act of jotting words
down on paper. Without writing a writer is not a writer. The highways to
success are littered with wanna-Be’s.
But distractions and discouragements are aplenty and it
takes a true aficionado to never stop. Therefore most people need the sound of
pen scratching the paper to keep going. A workshop provides just that.
You forget the chores, bores, and worries, and happily go
on, writing for your life.
4. Feedback.
I mean real feedback — an ongoing, knowledgeable critique
of your work in progress — not a kiss you get from your Mummy, or a dismissing
shrug from an ignoramus. I teach my work-shoppers the basics of literary
criticism. They learn fast. In turn, they give each other incisive, zingy,
caring critiques. “Never show a fool half-completed work,” a Jewish wisdom
warns.
Finally, there is a reason that was the real reason that
made me start my workshop:
5. Nurturing.
This doesn’t mean spoon-feeding. Doesn’t mean
breast-feeding. It means brain-storming, welcoming any attempt at
self-expression, being non-judgmental, and offering total unconditional support
to any honest try.
Warning: Most groups have an executioner, killing free
expression of other work-shoppers. How do I know? I’ve been the terror of
some workshops myself. Now, I make sure that my work-shoppers feel safe to say
what they want to say when they want to say it.
Who needs it? We all do.
A good workshop is not just a workshop, it’s an
opportunity for self-expression. Self-expression must be trained, nurtured.
It’s great to watch people blossom, age notwithstanding.
By Tad Wojnicki
Write Like a Lover!
The article has previously appeared in:
"Twenty
years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than
by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe
harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
~ Mark Twain
