Paul Acevedo

2. Workshopping Works Out

            Creative Writing has been quite a departure from my previous literature classes. They usually consist of reading at home and then discussing the text in class in order to increase comprehension. But this class revolved around “friendly but rigorous Workshop Presentations to produce writing and model instruction.” The important reading took place within the classroom as each writer read his or her piece out loud. Instead of trying to understand their poems and stories more fully, our primary goal was to help them develop and improve their submissions. The class was certainly rigorous in that it required all of us to prepare our writings on time or else no discussion could take place. Yet not everyone’s drafts were complete insofar as they contained a beginning, middle, and end, so the class’ guidelines were not overly strict.

            Workshop classes do create a certain pressure. In her 2008 final essay, Rachel Barton admits, “the most intimidating aspect of the class was not the fact that others would be analyzing and critiquing my work, or that I would have to read my work in front of the class.” There is always the possibility that an audience will react negatively to one’s writing. However, I do not see that risk as a bad thing. Writing is art, and you cannot create art without risk. Safe art is sterile and dry, like the walls of an old hospital. Far better we should take a few chances and expose ourselves to criticism with the possibility that we might create something special. With that attitude in mind, presenting my story to the class became an opportunity rather than something to dread. Here was a chance to entertain an audience with my words, and is not the desire to write entertainingly why we take Creative Writing in the first place? (Creative Writing is also a great place to meet cute girls, but don’t tell anyone I said that.)

            Sharing my story with the class paid off. Before reading it to my fellow students, I was afraid that poking fun at Target’s sillier practices might not elicit a humorous response in people who had never worked there. To my relief, the jabs at Target went over extremely well. Of course, my first draft was not perfect. I also benefited from sharing my draft by learning “what didn’t come through as well” (Minot 144). An allusion to a character from a classmate’s story only confused my readers. The epilogue was too abrupt, wrapping things up more tidily than necessary. And while I had deliberately described the attacking electronics in vague terms, several people wanted more concrete descriptions. All of these suggestions and feedback gave me ideas to use in the second draft.

            The weeks when I did not have to read my submission to the class were no walk in the park, either. “Reading critically requires more concentration than passive reading” (Minot 139). The goal of every person in the audience was to help the presenter improve his or her writing. We sought out mistakes in grammar, punctuation, and logic. We suggested new titles and ways of doing things. And we needed to stay positive. Therein lay my greatest challenge; I just hated a few of the stories I heard. What could I offer those writers that would encourage instead of discourage? Eventually I learned to keep quiet until the flow of discussion reached a topic where I could offer helpful insight.

            I had never experienced such a level of cooperation before. People tend to think of professional writers as working in isolation, but all writers must share their work with friends and editors prior to publication. The novels we read do not come from a single draft; their authors revise them again and again until they are fit for publication. Thus a written work is always a work in progress. This makes sense when we look at it on an artistic level. Every painting, drawing, and sculpture has room for improvement. An artist can keep working on a painting for an infinite amount of time if he pleases. It only becomes finalized when the artist stops and never comes back to it. Writing works the same way – if we put a piece down and come back to it later, we may detect undiscovered flaws or imagine new ideas to add. This can even happen after the work goes to print. Toni Morrison revised The Bluest Eye several years after it was already a best-seller. A student who learns that professional authors write in a collaborative and iterative fashion has much less to fear when his or her first draft is not completely successful.

            Creative Writing has been a success for me on several levels. I am really happy with both my poem and short story. I could never have produced them without reading Stephen Minot’s Three Genres, Dr. White’s guidance, and especially the advice of my peers. I am convinced that writing workshops are essential to becoming a skilled writer. Students work harder knowing that they must share their writing with the class; they can learn what works and does not work in their writing; they cooperate to help each other improve; and they witness firsthand the iterative nature of the writing process. I hope the writing workshops I run in my own future classroom will be as successful.

Works Cited

Gaiman, Neil. Stardust. New York: Harper Collins, 1999.

Minot, Stephen. Three Genres. 7^th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 2003.