Workshop

BY BILLY COLLINS


I might as well begin by saying how much I like the title.  

It gets me right away because I�m in a workshop now  

so immediately the poem has my attention,

like the Ancient Mariner grabbing me by the sleeve.

 

And I like the first couple of stanzas,

the way they establish this mode of self-pointing

that runs through the whole poem

and tells us that words are food thrown down  

on the ground for other words to eat.  

I can almost taste the tail of the snake  

in its own mouth,

if you know what I mean.

 

But what I�m not sure about is the voice,

which sounds in places very casual, very blue jeans,  

but other times seems standoffish,

professorial in the worst sense of the word

like the poem is blowing pipe smoke in my face.  

But maybe that�s just what it wants to do.

 

What I did find engaging were the middle stanzas,  

especially the fourth one.

I like the image of clouds flying like lozenges  

which gives me a very clear picture.

And I really like how this drawbridge operator  

just appears out of the blue

with his feet up on the iron railing

and his fishing pole jigging�I like jigging�

a hook in the slow industrial canal below.

I love slow industrial canal below. All those l�s.

 

Maybe it�s just me,

but the next stanza is where I start to have a problem.  

I mean how can the evening bump into the stars?  

And what�s an obbligato of snow?

Also, I roam the decaffeinated streets.

At that point I�m lost. I need help.

 

The other thing that throws me off,

and maybe this is just me,

is the way the scene keeps shifting around.  

First, we�re in this big aerodrome

and the speaker is inspecting a row of dirigibles,  

which makes me think this could be a dream.  

Then he takes us into his garden,

the part with the dahlias and the coiling hose,  

though that�s nice, the coiling hose,

but then I�m not sure where we�re supposed to be.  

The rain and the mint green light,

that makes it feel outdoors, but what about this wallpaper?  

Or is it a kind of indoor cemetery?

There�s something about death going on here.

 

In fact, I start to wonder if what we have here  

is really two poems, or three, or four,  

or possibly none.

 

But then there�s that last stanza, my favorite.

This is where the poem wins me back,

especially the lines spoken in the voice of the mouse.

I mean we�ve all seen these images in cartoons before,

but I still love the details he uses

when he�s describing where he lives.

The perfect little arch of an entrance in the baseboard,  

the bed made out of a curled-back sardine can,  

the spool of thread for a table.

I start thinking about how hard the mouse had to work  

night after night collecting all these things

while the people in the house were fast asleep,  

and that gives me a very strong feeling,

a very powerful sense of something.

But I don�t know if anyone else was feeling that.  

Maybe that was just me.

Maybe that�s just the way I read it.

 

Billy Collins, �Workshop� from The Art of Drowning. Copyright © 1995 by Billy Collins. All rights are controlled by the University of Pittsburgh Press. Reprinted with the permission of the University of Pittsburgh Press, www.pitt.edu/~press/.

 

Source: The Art of Drowning (1995)

 

If the purpose of a workshop is to help a writer come to a clear sense of his or her writing and determine ways in which to improve it, so much of what the speaker in Billy Collins� poem says is completely useless. But it�s a funny poem for the speaker sounds like a number of people I�ve listened to during my stints facilitating and working in workshops. The continued, self-referential solipsism, the pompous references to literary ideas and images, the overuse of metaphor is all about the speaker and not the writer or the poem. And we can tell the speaker really doesn�t have a clue what he or she is saying due to his skittishness at even saying it, his reliance on phrases like Maybe it�s just me.

 

 Ugh!

 

 Of course, there are the times when criticism is off-base and just flat wrong. Sometimes, in intense writing workshops, people get downright MEAN. We have to develop a thick skin to be able to do this work, and it's not always easy. After one class I took at UC Santa Cruz Extension, I spent the entire drive home thinking, "I'm a failure, a loser, a pathetic excuse for a writer," because my teacher just slammed me. She made me read first, and then used me as a bad example all day long.

 

 �Jessica,� she said, �tried and failed to write about sex. Let s see what you can do.�

 

 As my husband drove, I cried and cried in the passenger s seat. Well, I got over it in a couple hours, and started writing something when I came home, but I still have scars! Sometimes I wonder if I took a turn at romance writing just to prove myself to this long ago teacher!

 

So what can you do to protect yourself while in a workshop or even in a writing group? How can you shield yourself from banal, mis-guided, and mean comments and mine the gold nuggets of wisdom that will come your way? And how can you learn to be a better responder and reader, helping people get their writing in shape? Here are a few ideas that might help if you are thinking of putting together a writing group or are going to attend a writing workshop.

 

 

First, pick your group wisely. If you are trying to get a group together, look to folk who are working in your genre. If you have three poets and a science fiction writer wants to join the group, you might have to say no. A science fiction writer will not be concerned with the things the poets will be and vice versa. Will you want to spend a great deal of time worrying about plot and character if you are all writing sonnets? This science fiction writer might be a very good writer and a lovely person, but what he or she writes might not lead to productive discussions for all.

 

 Some writing workshops are known for the intensity of critique, some perhaps a trifle brutal. Before signing up for a workshop, do your research. Look for the workshop s website and see if there are comments from past participants. Look to see who is facilitating and/or running the workshop. Sometimes writers have reputations for nurturing or butchering. Make your decisions wisely. For instance, one of my first workshop experiences was at the sadly now-defunct Flight of the Mind Writers Workshops for Women in Oregon. While women can be as critical as men, I knew I would feel more relaxed in a female environment, especially given what my material was (my life!). I was also able to study with Grace Paley, who had taught a friend of mine. My friend loved her. So I had a personal recommendation. I had a wonderful experience and met women who really helped shape my work, several of whom are still in my life today. Subsequent visits to Flight were equally as wonderful, and I am still upset that Flight is gone!

 

There are people�and I have had them in classes�who love to argue, wrangle, criticize, and fight, maybe more than they like to write. I have tried to work with such students, but a couple of times, I�ve had to work with administration type folks to have a student removed. If you as a participant in a class feel that someone is abusive or just rude, please let the person in charge know. Often, those watching don�t see everything or even the nuance of some comments. Make sure to take care of yourself�which often means having others take care of you.

 

 Set ground rules. My writing group has had people come and go, but for the last few years, we�ve been a very strong six. About two years ago, we had to have a major discussion because we weren�t following our own rules and things were starting to break down. Our rules include:

 

 1)  Everyone must bring writing each time.

 

2) Each person regardless of length of work gets one-half hour of time, unless we have more because of an absent member.

 

3) We really try to not schedule vacations that will fall on the first Sunday of the month, our meeting time.

 

4) We can bring any type of creative writing (fiction, poetry, or prose) in, but no academic writing we are all teachers no journal writing, no dreams.

 

5) We are looser with attendance in the summer months.

 

6) Six is our golden number, so no new members unless someone quits.

 

7) The writer can state what she wants in terms of feedback.

 

8) We take turns discussing, rather than pouncing all at once on the work.

 

 Our meeting helped us reinforce our rules and got everyone back on track.

 

And if we ever need to reevaluate the situation, we will.

 

 

If you are at a writing workshop and the teacher has not set ground rules, ask for some. Most teachers will create a good working environment, but if you�ve paid some good money for the experience and it suddenly seems like a free-for-all, ask for some boundaries.

 

 

 

Remember that you don t have to take every single piece of information you get.  So as I�m listening to feedback, I balance my opinion and others�, taking in what I think rings true for me and what doesn�t. Sometimes, I plain disagree. Sometimes, I disagree and then change my mind later, realizing that indeed, my character seems like a wimp. So don�t go home and hack your work up. Let ideas mull and stew and percolate. Then revise. The same goes for information you receive at workshops.

 

Once, for instance, one woman in a workshop insisted that the word cute was demeaning, patriarchal, and condescending. I listened to her impassioned discussion of the demerits of the word, but I left it in. I think the word cute is cute, no matter what anyone says.

 

While you are at a class or a workshop or even within your writing group, find people who will read your work (and vice versa) outside of the group setting. Years ago, when I first started attending workshops and classes, I met some wonderful people who have continued to read my work. My friend Darien, who lives on the Big Island of Hawaii, has read whole novels, query letters, and applications. I have done the same for her. Same goes for my friends Kris and Leonore. In my writing group, Julie has read novels the rest of the group hasn�t, and while I haven t had the opportunity to return the favor, I�m waiting! These readings are very important because they often go beyond time constraints and the restrictions of a group setting. Without the above friends, I�d be sunk as well.

 

Don�t bug the teacher/facilitator. Now that I�m a teacher, I�ve seen some pretty strange behaviors. The worst is a student I barely know coming up to me with a full manuscript and wanting me to read it or to send it to my agent or editor. Sometimes, I am approached by students in other classes, who want me to read a section and critique it. Once a man who hired me to teach at a workshop ran after me with his manuscript as I was driving away. Don�t do this. It�s impolite. You�ve paid for your workshop and you need to get the most out of it while you are there. If your teacher is bowled over by your writing, he or she would most likely tell you and give you additional critique or information about agents and editors. The best resources for you in a workshop are the other attendees. Network there, share ideas, read each other�s work.

 

 

 

 

So now you�ve gotten your group together. And now you are listening/reading to someone�s poem or short story. The person finishes reading and looks up, expecting . . . . expecting what?

 

 

 

By far, the comments I hate the most in critique groups mirror the things I hate about bad writing. The comments are filled with abstraction and wander off point. The directives are vague, focus on minutiae, and are self-absorbed. The two sentences beginning critiquers throw out more than any others are: It�s good, and I liked it. Just as bad but not as often said are It�s bad, and I hated it.

 

Other inappropriate comments involve a responder going off on how this poem or story reminds him or her of a childhood incident which is then discussed in detail. Just as bad is the comment that the poem should be a play or the story a sestina. Rather than dealing with the form before him or her, the bad responder makes the writing into something else all together.

 

In a creative writing class some semesters ago, I asked my students to write down the questions they really wanted answered in our workshop these were either questions they wanted answered about their own work or questions they wanted to ask other writers. I railed against vagueness and vapidity, and then asked them to brainstorm about the questions which would lead them to answers that would truly help create better writing. Here is what they came up with:

 

 

 

1. What emotion were you trying to evoke at the end of this poem/story?

 

 

 

2. Does the piece make sense? What do you think it means?

 

 

 

3. Discuss word placement, punctuation.

 

 

 

4. What words or images did not find effectively used?

 

 

 

5. Did something strike off key or sound funny?

 

 

 

6. What did you want to say/portray in your poem?

 

 

 

7. Does the story take a different approach to a common theme? Does this take work?

 

 

 

8. Does the structure work with the theme?

 

 

 

9. Does the title relate to the poem?

 

 

 

10. Where did the idea come from?

 

 

 

11. What does your poem symbolize?

 

 

 

12. What parts of this poem or story were you unsure about while writing it?

 

 

 

13. Are you attached to this word/sentence? Could you use something else in its place?

 

 

 

14. Is there any hidden meaning?

 

 

 

15. What is the speaker's or narrator�s feeling in this piece?

 

 

 

16. Why did you choose to write about this particular topic?

 

 

 

17. How do you want the reader to feel after reading the piece? (mood)

 

 

 

18. Do you think any of this is overwritten? Where?

 

 

 

19. Are there ways I could express myself so there is more heart?

 

 

 

20. Would you read this again if you could? Why?

 

 

 

21. What is the message in this poem?

 

 

 

22. What do you think the tone is? Describe.

 

 

 

23. Does the writing have internal music? Where?

 

 

 

24. Do you want to follow the speaker/narrator through the piece? Why?

 

 

 

25. Did the poem/story begin and end well? If so or if not, what words, sentences, ideas can you pick out for discussion?

 

 

 

26. Was the vocabulary appropriate in relation to theme?

 

As you read through the questions, you can see that no one specifically wanted to know if the reader liked the piece or hated the piece. Most of these questions beg for detailed answers. The critique groups we ran with these questions ended up being the best we�d had that semester, and we brainstormed before each following group session for the rest of the semester.