5 March 2002

The Writerly Art of Critiquing En Masse: A Guide to Finding, Running, and Surviving Writers Groups
by Lyda Morehouse

Lyda Morehouse, gossip co-editor of The Broadsheet, is the author of Archangel Protocol (Roc, May 2001) and Fallen Host (Roc, May 2002). She recently sold two more books in what is quickly becoming the Archangel Protocol universe, and a third unrelated novel to Roc. Lyda lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, with four cats and her partner of 16 years. She is expecting her first child in July. Lyda's web site can be found at www.mninter.net/~sprounds/Lyda.htm.

"A writers' group is a great way to feel like a writer without actually writing," my friend David Hoffman-Dachelet said at a panel we shared on critique groups a few years ago. At the time I was a member of a number of different groups, all of which I felt were working for me in different ways, but I found myself nodding my head in agreement. There is something seductive about the critique process. "Workshopping" feels very "writerly." You can tell yourself that thinking about the writing process is the same as practicing the craft. It's extremely easy to eat up the precious hours you carved out of your busy life composing detailed responses to other people's writing—not to mention all the time spent just reading the manuscripts! All the while, your great American novel gathers dust and sprouts red rot.

Yet I'd never give up my writers' groups. Never.

In the acknowledgments page of my first novel there is a list of names one and a half pages long. Seventy percent of those names belong to members of my writers' groups. (I used to belong to several groups.). I felt all those names had to be there. Without my writers' groups, I'd have never been able to write a sellable novel—nor would I have had the discipline to finish it, nor survived the countless rejections it went through before it sold.

What The Heck Is A Critique Group?

What I call a critique group is also sometimes called a "writers' group" or, grammar goddess forbid, a "workshopping group." The general idea behind a critique group is for writers to share their works in progress (or finished pieces) and to get feedback. I say "usual" purpose, because there are actually perfectly functional writers' groups, which rarely—if ever—review their members' writing. But, we'll address that in part II.

First, I should note that I'm going to restrict my article to discussing only the kinds of groups that I've had experience with—that is to say, live, in-person critique groups, as opposed to online ones.

So how do critique groups work? Of course, there's a million different ways they can. Here are some of the ways the critique groups I've known have functioned.

• Open to all comers.
• Closed or restricted (invitation-only or audition-only).
• Moderated in the same style as the Clarion Speculative Fiction Writers Workshops, with a published/experienced mentor who does not share his/her writing, but who acts as leader/facilitator of critique.
• Facilitated, with a volunteer who acts as more as a secretary than a leader, shares his/her work with the group and is not necessarily at an advanced stage in his/her writing career.
• Anarchy, a peer-style group with everyone sharing their work, at the same level in their career, no real leader.

Groups also come in two flavors where:

• Manuscripts are read aloud, and critique is given instantly;
• Manuscripts are read before the meeting, and critique is prepared before session.

You can combine these major types in a zillion different ways. Each has their strengths and weaknesses, and, in the end, it's a matter of taste. But, how do you know what you might like before you've tried it? There's no real way to know, of course, but perhaps you can get a sense from reading about my experiences.

The Pros, The Cons, The Monsters In The Pit

I'm currently the member of two writers' groups. At one point in my life, I was a member of four. At one point or another, however, I've been in every combination imaginable. I've started groups from scratch, facilitated ones as part of a larger organization, taken part in classroom workshops, and joined existing critique groups. What works for me, however, may not work for you. I will try, as I describe each group, to include insights into my biases and personality foibles. Hopefully, armed with all of this information, you can get a sense of what kind of critique group is right for you.

My very first group met at the Loft (www.loft.org). The Loft is a St. Paul/Minneapolis organization, which bills itself as "a place for writers." The Loft owns actual classroom space available for courses, and, in this case, what they called an "open writers' group." As open, that meant anyone could attend. The organization appointed a facilitator who was responsible for opening up the classroom every third Saturday of the month between 10 am and noon. She was also there to make sure that someone was generally in charge—as a point person to explain how the sessions worked, etc. Membership fluctuated wildly. Though there was clearly a core group of members who were regular attendees, I, myself, managed to show up only once or twice.

This open group had no genre focus. It was advertised for fiction writers, but otherwise it was anything goes. The critique sessions were structured so that each person who brought a work in progress would read that piece out loud. They would also hand out copies so that others could read along, if they wished. Critique followed immediately after the reading. Each listener gave what amounted to spur of the moment, first impressions of the work in progress.

There are some obvious drawbacks to this method. One, if you were a good reader (read: theater trained, which I was), you got better critiques. Also, you were clearly restricted to short, readable pieces. Finished short-shorts (or flash fiction) worked best in this format. The critiques themselves were, by necessity, on a surface-level only. Members only heard the story once, and didn't have the opportunity to examine the piece in depth.

The benefits were that, as a member, you got fast critique. You only had to show up to a single meeting to get a general impression of your work, and sometimes worked/didn't work is all you need to know. There was also no "homework." You didn't have to take anything home to read. When you left, you were done.

The second writers' group I was in also had its origins with the Loft. I took a class in writing science fiction there, and, as part of each class session, one or two students handed-out work to be critiqued. This was a mentor-style critique group. The mentor was a published author. He set the rules, and Clarion style, did not hand out his own work to be critiqued. He did make comments of his own about each student's piece at the end of each session. In this group, we were required to hand out copies of our stories/novel chapters in advance.

Because it was a class, we had a structured form of critique: first impression, strengths, weaknesses, and final impression. We were admonished to read each piece through at least twice. Once, we read it on the surface like you would any story you might just pick up to read for fun, and the second time with a more critical eye.

During our sessions, each person would take turns reading (or ad libbing) prepared comments, while the author listened and took notes. The class also employed a gag rule, requiring the author of the story to remain silent while his or her story is critiqued. We were also not allowed any cross talk, meaning that everyone had to remain silent while feedback was given. Once all the students were finished, the instructor gave his impressions. After that, the writer had a chance to speak.

For me, this was a good way to learn to critique. When you're new to the feedback process, it's difficult to know what kind of comments are helpful. It's also sometimes hard to know how to tackle stories that really didn't work for you at all, or weren't to your tastes. An instructor often keeps things civil (although I've heard of creative writing classes where authors have felt really abused, and the professor has not stepped in to help.) But, ideally, the instructor's comments can give you a sense of how critique should be done so that it functions as constructive criticism.

However, the problem is finding a group like this. The Loft is a one-of-a-kind organization, and, unless you live in Minneapolis/St. Paul, it'd be hard to attend classes there. Presumably, you might be able to find classes taught through local colleges and universities or through community education programs. Finding SF/F focused ones can be more difficult, however. All classes cost money, and can, as in a college courses or Clarion (www.msu.edu/~clarion/workshop/workshopinfo.html), cost hundreds, even thousands of dollars. Plus, both classes and Clarion have end-dates. Once it's over, you're out of a critique group.

My next experience was a lot less structured. The instructor of the Loft class encouraged us to form a critique group to continue after the class ended. I decided that sounded like a great idea. I introduced myself to one of the other people in the class, and at the last class period we announced that if anyone wanted to join us we were going to meet at a certain date at the local Pizza Hut.

A group of about five of us met to hash out details. Since the instructor had given us a format to follow with critique, very little thought was given to how the group would function. Instead we concentrated on things like: how often to meet, where, and when. We decided that once a week was too often, but we wanted something regular and not too far apart. Having come off a class that met once a week, once a month seemed far too long between sessions. So we agreed to meet once every other week, after work on Thursdays, in a public place. The pizza place was too noisy, so we assigned someone to figure out a better place, exchanged phone numbers, and waved good-bye until the next meeting.

Seven years later, the group, now called Wyrdsmiths, still meets after work on Thursdays every other week. We still use the critique format taught by the Loft instructor. We still hand out manuscripts in advance and return written comments. We gave up on the no cross-talk rule a long time ago (too hard to enforce without an official leader), but the gag rule still applies.

Yet, thanks to some pretty ugly growing pains, only two of the original members remain. What else changed? We're no longer an open group with few rules. The group is now highly-structured, and invitation-only. First and foremost, we're a working group. That means, we socialize to a point, but our main function is to critique. Though some of the members are my friends, not all of them are. We are linked purely by a desire to improve our writing craft.

We did just that. Out of seven members five of them have become SFWA members, four have an agent, and two of us have full-length novels published by major houses. In my acknowledgments to Archangel Protocol, I listed the names of the members of Wyrdsmiths. Do I really believe that I wouldn't be published without them? You bet.

What are the disadvantages of this group? It's a lot of work. The level of critique is very intense, and there's a lot of reading to do. Plus, one of our membership requirements is that each writer produce a certain number of manuscript pages a month. We set the bar ridiculously low: four pages of double-spaced, 12-point courier. Yet, thanks to a full-time job and full-time family, sometimes that's been hard for me to meet. Also, because we're so career focused, we're also very competitive. We've actually had to come up with structured ways to deal with intra-group jealousy. (If you sell a story you have to buy coffee for everyone in the group... and don't think we don't stick it to the seller. If someone else sold, I buy the most expensive thing on the menu.) We've also had to be mean and ruthless. During our growing pains, we made a conscious decision to kick out someone the majority viewed as dead weight. We also broke away from a small minority of members who considered themselves hobbyist writers. All of those experiences were ugly and hard.

In part due to those growing pains, I sought out other kinds of writers' groups. I facilitated an open group for the Loft, started a group of Clarion alums, tried an APA (an amateur publication) called APAgraphia, and joined an existing group that functions mostly as a social group.

The open group, because I was in charge of it, ran much like Wyrdsmiths. The only difference was that, thanks to the Loft rules, we couldn't refuse any interested person membership. Despite what you might think, I met some really dedicated, serious writers thanks to this open group. The only drawback was size. It fluctuated wildly. When I started, there were sometimes only one or two people, and, during its hey-day, the open group boasted over 20 members.

Twenty, in my opinion, is about 15 too many. If everyone is writing and producing it's almost impossible to get through critique in one two-hour session. Plus, we met at a public coffee shop, so we had to contend with problems finding seating and parking—not to mention a 10 pm closing time.

The other big issue was skill level. It can be really frustrating to feel, rightly or not, that no one else in the group writes as well as you. Spending all of your critique time trying to educate people about proper sentence structure can be especially infuriating for someone who has mastered that part of writing and who wants to learn the more difficult art of characterization and scene setting. It's equally frustrating to feel out of your league, wondering what people are talking about when they throw around phrases like "worldbuilding," and "infodump."

Also, there's a matter of differing taste. High fantasy stories are very different from cyberpunk. Some people can't stand reading one or the other. In an open group, you can get a wide range of styles. Members of a well-facilitated writers group learn how to talk about characterization, while stating up front that "this isn't normally the kind of story I enjoy."

However, matters of taste can lead to schisms, especially when those preferences include strong opinions about the future of science fiction publishing. For instance, currently, there are a lot of people who are trying to break out of what they see as the science fiction ghetto and get published as mainstream or literary science fiction. Often their work is experimental in subject, style, and form. Similarly, there's an opposing camp that believes the only way to be published is to write marketable work—high action, clear prose. Having been in a group where this schism almost led to fisticuffs, I strongly suggest finding a group that fits your writing values—whatever they may be.

I was only a member of APAgraphia for one or two issues. APAgraphia was a by-mail critique group. You paid the organizer a small fee to cover postage and then submitted your work to be collected with the rest of the stories to be critiqued. These were published in fanzine format and mailed to all the members. The members responded by writing commentary on your story, which you could read in the following "issue" of the 'zine.

I didn't last very long because I have no patience. If memory serves, the APA came out once a month. By that time, I'd finished the story, shopped it around to my other groups, and sent it off to the first professional market on my list and forgotten about it. Moreover, typing the critique in a clear and concise form and remembering to send it off by deadline was a lot more rigorous than reading my margin notes off the cuff at a meeting. In fact, it almost seemed like writing critique for the APA was its own kind of competitive art form, and, in all honesty, homey don't play dat.

However, I can see some benefits to this format. First, the APA was nicely designed. It was a collectable piece of work because it also included illustrations. Secondly, if you lived far away or was painfully shy in the era before the Internet, the APA was a good way to form a community with writers you might otherwise be unable to find. Presumably, the Internet meets a lot of these needs today.

The last kind of group I want to talk about is the social group. You might be thinking, "Heck, Lyda, if you don't have patience for an APA, why go to a group that doesn't even really critique?" Well, the answer is simple: gossip. For those of you who get queasy at the thought of a bunch of writers sitting around at tea dishing out the goods on who is sleeping with whom—think of it as networking. Networking is absolutely vital to your writing career. It's not about connecting the fandom relationship dots, it's about hearing that Joe's story was bounced from F&SF with the comment "I hate stories about cats" (this, by the way, is a completely fictitious example; for all I know Gordon Van Gelder loves cats.)

Plus, we've all heard that the best way to break into a market is to read the magazine. Hard to do when you think about all the magazines out there. But, if there's someone in your group who reads a lot of Asimov's, and has over several years, you can turn to them and ask, "Do you think Gardner will like this based on what you've read?" You probably shouldn't rely solely on your friend's response, but it can be helpful when deciding which markets to send to first. Other writers can also help you know which markets are full, closing or having other problems. This can save you some serious postage.

These people can go to conventions with you. They can introduce you to people they know, keep you from being a wallflower at parties, and generally make the con experience richer. (And if you don't know the value of going to science fiction conventions, read my article in the Sell section in the Broadsheet.)

How Do You Start a Critique Group?

Minneapolis/St. Paul seems to be a haven for writers in general, and science fiction writers in particular. My experiences starting a group might be warped by the seeming overwhelming number of people interested, willing, and serious about writing.

We are also host to something like four or five local science fiction conventions: MarsCon, MiniCon, CONvergence, Diversicon, Arcana, and probably several more that I can't think of right off hand. It seems there's always a panel going on about where and how to join a writers group. Consequently, we have a very organized fandom. One fan group publishes a pamphlet with contact information and descriptions of the various in-town writers groups. We also have two sf/f bookstores: Uncle Hugos and Dreamhaven, which post fliers about groups.

You may, however, live in a town that barely has a science fiction section in the one mega-chain bookstore on the outskirts of town. Maybe you don't even have that. So, what do you do then?

Start with what you do have.

Ask around. You never know what might be lurking in your town. I didn't know about all of the skiffy stuff going on in Minneapolis/St. Paul until I asked the guy behind the counter at Uncle Hugo's bookstore. When I said I was a writer, I got handed that nice pamphlet with all sorts of information about the local groups—writer, reader, and media oriented.

If you discover there's nothing happening (or you don't like what you find), consider starting your own. First you'll need a place to meet.

I prefer writers groups that meet in public spaces. The reason is that I'm a 5'2" inner-city woman, and my well-honed survival instincts tell me public spaces are safer. Also, if you're starting a group from scratch (as opposed to forming with colleagues met at a writing class), you can't control who might show up. You have to ask yourself how comfortable you are with strangers knowing where you live. Now, in all my years of joining and running writers groups, I've only ever run across one individual that I had any cause to worry about. Still, a public space is a safe place to start.

The other advantage to meeting in a public space—like a coffeeshop or a restaurant—is that you don't feel obligated to provide food or drink. If you decide to host the writer's group at your house, it's considered customary to at least provide people with something to drink. Most of the groups I've had that rotated between people's houses seemed to have an almost competitive streak when it came to treats. Some offered alcohol, some didn't. But, there was usually at least chips and dip to munch on while we critiqued.

However, if you chose to meet in your home (or rotate through the member's homes) there are advantages. For one, there's no time limit other than the one the host may impose. You can go for several hours comfortably, rather than suffer the dirty looks of the coffee jock who'd really like to wash up dishes, sweep the floors and go home.

If you decide on a public place, you'll want to find one that doesn't mind a bunch of people who sit (and argue noisily about prepositional clauses) for hours on end. This is why my groups often end up at mom & pop coffee shops. But, if you don't have that option, you can try approaching a mega-chain like Barnes & Noble or Borders. Sometimes the big chains not only have a place for you to gather, but will also advertise your group in their newsletter. Another option is the public library. Many libraries have meeting rooms that you can rent and reserve for a nominal fee. This can get expensive, however, if you decide to meet once a week or even once a month. (You could try charging a membership fee to cover those costs initially, and once you got to know everyone you could move to meeting at people's homes.)

Finding other writers can be a struggle. If you have the options I've mentioned above— conventions, sf/f bookstores, and/or community/college classes on writing—those are the obvious places to start. A class would be best, of course, since you know the people there are interested in writing and after a couple of weeks you'll probably get a sense of who might share similar tastes and values.

Otherwise it's a matter of advertising. Try printing up a flier and posting at all the usual places (bookstores, libraries, coffee shops). You put a classified ad in a convention booklet if there's a nearby convention or a ntocie in a local fan newsletter if one exists. (One way to find out if there is a fan group is to run a Google search at www.google.com and/or check out Fandata at www.fandata.com.

Finding warm bodies might not be nearly as difficult as finding the right bodies. Unfortunately, there's no way to make sure that you find those magical soulmates the first time ... or even the third or fourth time. However, my sage advice is this: don't write off a group too quickly. Good writers groups, like fine cheeses, need a chance to age.

Also, the things that might at first turn you off, might end up being a group's strength. For instance, my most successful group is full of people who write things very different from my own work. I write vaguely cyberpunkish stuff. Naomi writes high-ish fantasy. Doug writes Thieves' World-like fantasy. Kelly writes about cyber-elves. Rosalind writes mostly mysteries. Bill writes literary fantasy and science fiction. And, Harry... well, Harry writes sf/f in a style I'm convinced will later be known as the Harry Le Blanc genre. On the surface, you wouldn't think I'd be able to get good critique out of such disparate voices, but I do. I've learned that if everyone in the group felt the piece worked, then it has a fairly broad appeal.

It took us seven years and many cast changes to find the perfect fit. So, give it time, and good luck!