I sat, my stomach churning, facing a table full of writers with printed-out chapters sitting in front of them. The room smelled like Starbucks and ink and people who knew what they were talking about. One by one, all the writers read their chapters and received feedback on what worked . . . and what didn’t.
I sat, my stomach churning, facing a table full of writers with printed-out chapters sitting in front of them. The room smelled like Starbucks and ink and people who knew what they were talking about. One by one, all the writers read their chapters and received feedback on what worked . . . and what didn’t.
And then it was my turn. I swallowed the enormous lump in my throat, and, trying to keep my voice from shaking, read my own chapter. Out loud, it was much worse than I’d thought. I loved the words, and the characters, but there was something deeply wrong with it I couldn’t figure out.
Which was exactly why I was sitting here, at the DFW Writers Workshop, reading my flawed chapter to people who knew. They’d tell me my mistake and then I could fix it . . . and THEN I could get published.
When I stopped reading, there was silence for a moment. Then a writer raised his hand. “I don’t know your character’s goal,” he said.
It took me a long time to figure out what that meant for my story, but he was right. That’s what was wrong with my chapter. The underlying structure was missing.
If you’re a writer, you’re probably, at this point, expecting me to say, “you should join a writer’s group.” Or, if you happen to be in the DFW area, “join the DFW Writer’s Workshop.” Or if there isn’t a group near you, start one!*
And yes, you’re right . . . I am saying that. But not ultimately for the reason you might think.
The Set-up
As you now know, I joined my writer’s group to get better at the mechanics of writing a story. Because that’s always the advice, right? Want to keep your readers turning pages with your fantastic chapter endings? Get feedback. Want to fix one-dimensional characters? Get feedback.
And that’s true. All true.
But also, that’s all about technique. And honestly, I could have read a book that would give me the same advice - to give my character a goal. It sure would have been more comfortable. But it wouldn’t have brought my story to life.
Because here’s what it turned out I actually needed:
1. Real-life Audience
It’s easy to write into the “void” of a computer screen, typing in beautiful scenery, pages and pages and pages of a character monologuing, or dialogue that should work because it follows all the rules . . . but ultimately still falls flat.
If you’re a Tolkien fan, think for a moment about the difference between the Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings. Even if you’re not a fan, you’ve probably heard about the Lord of the Rings, probably even know the basic story. But you’re likely not familiar at all with the Silmarillion, which is, well, not as reader-friendly.
The difference, as Diana Glyer explains in Bandersnatch, is that Tolkien read Lord of the Rings to the Inklings, a writing group that included C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams. So, in real time, he could tell what landed and where he lost his audience. And it changed how he wrote. It gave us Bilbo and Gandalf and second breakfasts in an entirely different frame.
Which is the alchemy that happens when you’re writing for people you know.
2. The Company of Those on a Similar Journey
It’s lonely to type away for hours on end - or days - or months, with no one to talk to about what you’re working on, or your struggles, or the places you’re getting stuck.
One of my favorite parts of being part of a writer’s group is conversations that go something like this: Me: It’s really hard not to take rejections as a personal attack.
Friend: Oh, I know. Me too. But then I have to remember the work is a separate thing from who I am.
Me, too.
Powerful words.
And this brings me to the long-awaited TWIST ENDING. See, I came to the group thinking what I really needed was to fix my chapter so I could get published. But as it turns out, what I REALLY needed was
3. Story Hour
You know, the part where everyone enjoys a story together (sitting on braided mats on the floor optional).
Bear with me on this one.
Let’s go back for a moment to the writing group with Tolkien and Lewis. In a letter written about his friendship with Lewis, Tolkien wrote, “the most lasting pleasure and reward for both of us has been that we provided one another with stories to hear or read that we really like.” (https://shorturl.at/B2vlG).
Not that Lewis’s encouragement was a big part of how he finished The Lord of the Rings, much less published it. No, what he found most valuable was that they exchanged stories they enjoyed.
I’ve come to agree with him. I can’t control if a book gets published . . . or if it does, how well it will sell. And I certainly can’t control reviews. But I CAN continue to gather with other writers every week, share my story and hear theirs, and work on our craft together.
Which, by the way, isn’t the writing equivalent of the participation trophy. No.
It’s the GOAL.
Helen Dent lives in Texas with her husband, kids, a cat, and a hamster. She belongs to the DFW Writers Workshop, the Fort Worth Poetry Society, and Art House Dallas. Her debut novel, The Burning Tree, will come out through Enclave Escape in September 2024.