We help writers of all genres and experience levels to produce and promote professionally published work. We do this by providing read-and-critique sessions, educational activities, ongoing author support, networking opportunities and a welcoming, inclusive community.
The Workshop meets EVERY Wednesday, regardless of holidays or weather. We welcome visitors to come to any of these regular weekly meeting. There is no need to notify us in advance, just show up! It has been years since a meeting was canceled for any reason.
We meet at 7 p.m. at the Simmons Center, 508 Simmons Drive in Euless, TX and rarely go past 10:00 p.m. Many continue on after the meeting at a nearby IHOP on 183 and Westpark/Murphy in Euless.
A few months ago I was talking to my friend about my lack of progress on my current project: “I SHOULD HAVE A PROCESS BY NOW, BROOKE! WHY DON’T I HAVE A PROCESS?” You see, I’d just read a book on writing that addressed how to write fast and regularly. It all sounded so easy, but when I tried it, I stopped after only two days. This is most likely due to my general lack of follow-up. Seriously, it’s a minor miracle I ever completed one manuscript, let alone five. But, this borrowed process I was testing out didn’t click. So, I went back to my higgly-piggly way of writing when inspired (which means I spent most of my time procrastinating). Turns out, that’s an even worse process than borrowing someone else’s. Which is why I’m going to lay out, right here, what my actual, real-deal process is. And hopefully it will help you figure out yours. First, what is process? Is it the way you create a book, or the way you get it down on paper? I think those are two different things. Let me explain. Creating a book starts with an idea, a character, a plot, a setting, and everything spirals out from there. With Sawbones, it was the setting. With Stillwater, it was the character of Ellie Martin. With my current project, it was the plot. (You see why I say I have no process?) Inspiration comes when it comes, with little regard to what I want, or what is the easiest way for me to create a story (FYI, it’s with character). During the creation phase there’s a lot of reading, thinking, sitting around and staring into the distance, note taking. Regardless of the genesis of the story, it never clicks until I get a handle on the characters, and who they are. Once I have that, everything else falls into place. Now, to get the story down on paper. Am I a plotter or pantser? Morning writer or evening writer? Daily word goals or time goals? Yes. I winged my way through the first five books, with a good idea of main plot points, but nothing at all like an actual outline or plan, though I had a clear idea how each ended, as I do with my current project. When writing BLOOD OATH, I sat in front of the computer every morning and said, “What happens next? Let’s have them get caught in a thunderstorm on the plains with nowhere to hide! And Laura gets separated from the group! And, almost dies! There’s a fire!” I’m not making that up for this article by the way. Read all about it May 23! (shameless plug) My current project started with a plot, and an outline! I’m not surprised that it’s been tough going; I hate being told what to do, even by my well-intentioned plotting past self. My early struggles stemmed from my lack of character understanding. Once I had that, and had decided on “how” to tell the story (POV, etc), the words started to flow. My advice: It doesn’t matter when you write, or what your daily writing goals are, only that you write daily and have goals. Do what works for you, however imperfect or wheels off it may sound to the disciplined writers who love to humblebrag about their daily schedule of early rising, writing, mid-morning walk, writing, power nap, writing, all of which leads to their typical 5000-word day. When it comes down to it, the reader doesn’t care how the sausage is made, only that it is, and that it’s delicious. Melissa Lenhardt is the author the Jack McBride mystery series, as well as the Laura Elliston historical fiction series. Her debut mystery, STILLWATER, was a finalist for the 2014 Whidbey Writers’ MFA Alumni Emerging Writers Contest, and SAWBONES, her historical fiction debut, was hailed as a "thoroughly original, smart and satisfying hybrid, perhaps a new subgenre: the feminist Western" by Lone Star Literary Life. A lifelong Texan, she lives in the Dallas area with her husband and two sons. Her latest book, SAWBONES is now available in paperback. Her next novel, BLOOD OATH will be available on May 23, 2017 (as shamelessly alluded to earlier).read moreMy favorite movie of 2016 so far – oh heck, my favorite movie of the whole decade – is an Irish, coming-of-age story called Sing Street. Sing Street is about a 14-year old boy named Conor Lalor, who overcomes his parents’ disintegrating marriage, the family’s worsening financial situation and the two bullies terrorizing him at his new school to start a band—with the all-important goal of impressing a girl. The movie is reminiscent of the 1991 Irish movie, The Commitments. But whereas The Commitments were a band of late teens/early twenties musicians playing soul music in the tradition of 1960s African-American recording artists, Sing Street is a band of young teen-aged boys writing and recording “happy-sad” songs, in the tradition of the 1980s New Wave music. Conor and his song-writing partner, Eamon easily pass as young twins of Paul McCartney and John Lennon and Conor's quest for young love is wonderfully done. But it’s Conor’s brother, Brendan who steals the show. It’s Brendan’s who sets us straight. Brendan is a classic mentor archetype, coaching Connor to do what he wants to do and become what he wants to become. His mentorship resonated with Conor. It resonated with me, too. After hearing the first recording of Sing Street’s music, Brendan yanks the tape from its spool and stomps on the cassette. “That was bad, bad music,” he says. “And there’s nothing as bad in this world as bad music…That was a novelty act…It’s all about the girl, isn’t it? And you’re going to use someone else’s art to get her? Are you kidding?” Conor’s attempt at a defense fails. “We’re just starting. We need to learn how to play.” “Did the Sex Pistols know how to play? You don't need to know how to play. Who are you, Steely Dan? You need to learn how NOT to play, Conor. That's the trick. That's rock and roll. And THAT takes practice…Rock and roll is a risk. You risk being ridiculed.” There are other sources for this type of “encouragement" in the music world. In a “get off my lawn!” kind of way, former Eagles’ guitarist, Joe Walsh put it like this: “All these kids (today) are a legend in their parents’ garage but they can’t play in front of people. You gotta play live in front of people and at first, you’re awful. And you stink…and that’s why kids are afraid to do it. (They’re afraid to fall on their face). But you bring that up. You don’t really get better. You just bring awful up. So you’re not that awful.” Isn’t it the same with writing? Sure, we don’t want to stink. We don’t want to be ridiculed. For some reason, though, at first some of us don’t appreciate that writing is a craft. That it’s something to be learned and nurtured. Instead, most of us sit down, write that first draft of our first novel – our “masterpiece” – and then we sit back and wonder when the royalty checks will start rolling in. As one thriller author once put it to me: “Authors are the only artists who’d think that their first painting should hang in the Louvre.” The truth is, it’s very likely that when we start out we’re not that good. In fact if you’re like me, you probably made some bad, bad writing. And it isn’t until we get out of our “parents’ garage,” until we take that rock and roll risk and let people hear our work—people who understand the craft of writing—that we can bring awful up. That we can learn how NOT to write. That’s the benefit of an excellent critique group, like the DFW Writers Workshop and solid stable of beta readers. They’re the ones who help transform our writing, often through tough love. And if we’re smart, we forego our egos and take our medicine. Then we take the risk again. Even after all of that, it’s not over. Once our writing isn’t awful and we put it out there for the world to read, people will then judge the quality of our stories, the value of our opinions and everything else about what we’ve written. Some people will still ridicule us. Some people will still think we stink. But that’s rock and roll. So take the risk. And rock. Brian Tracey, DFWWW Member since 2012; Board member since 2015.read more