Why I Love My Writers' Group

By Mimi Greenwood Knight

Only your real friends will tell you when your face is dirty.

~Sicilian Proverb

I can't speak for others, but for me a writers' group is invaluable. I'd sooner do without my thesaurus or — perish the thought — spell check than without the support of my group. We've been together about five years, through several incarnations and a few times when our collective schedules got so crazy it seemed the group would fizzle. But the times when it's cooking — like it is now — make all the rest worthwhile.

Our group consists of Bert, a forty-something appraiser who, for the past three years, has been writing a "book about people and horses, not necessarily in that order"; Ellen, a retired nurse who hasn't quite settled on a genre; Anna Marie, a bookstore manager and old soul in a twenty-five-year-old body who's crafting a fantasy novel; Ron, a middle-aged salesman who writes side-splitting humor; and me. I'm the Erma Bombeck of the group, specializing in humorous essays about my four kids.

Our eclectic group meets every two weeks, usually in a coffee shop. Each writer brings something he's working on, one copy for each member, and then reads his selection out loud while the rest of us take notes. Next, we proceed around the table one by one, offering our opinion, asking for clarification, and making suggestions. The operative word is "suggestions." Each critique is just one person's opinion and should be looked on as nothing more. Take it or leave it. The writer always has final say.

That's the first rule. The second is simple. No one is allowed to defend his work. You can't say, "Well, I didn't introduce my main character until the second page because..." You won't be there to defend your work when it's published, so you can't defend it during group.

One thing that happens a lot is a writer will write one word and then — without realizing it — read another. Usually, what he reads sounds more natural. We'll make a note and let the writer know, "In the middle of the third paragraph, you wrote, 'She was still alive,' but you said, 'She was alive.' I think the second is stronger." We discuss the big things, then make notes of typos, spelling boo-boos, incorrect tenses, and punctuation, and give the writer back his work with these more minor suggestions written in.

Part of what makes our group work is that we all genuinely enjoy each other's writing. Our styles are different enough to keep things interesting, and there are no prima donnas. We let Bert know when one of his horse terms goes over our heads or tell Anna Marie if her dialogue doesn't sound authentic for her time period. We share calls for submissions and info on writing contests, celebrate each other's publishing successes, and help keep the parade of rejection letters in perspective.

The last thing I love about our group (and some months this would be first) is that, when I know there's a meeting coming up, I'm forced to write something. During the weeks when the muses are giving me the cold shoulder, it's a help to know I have to put something down on paper before the meeting.

Some weeks, I desperately scour my computer in search of something old I can rework and present to the group, then stumble upon a gem I'd forgotten about. More than once, I've unearthed one of those golden oldies, brought it to group, given it a spit shine, then turned around and sold it. I love that!

I hope this group stays together until I'm an old woman writing about my grandkids. I want to attend Bert's first book signing and buy a dozen copies of Anna Marie's novel. I want to be around when people are laughing at Ron's literary skullduggery and wrapping themselves in the warmth of Ellen's prose. The time we've spent together has taught me more than any book or class on writing ever could.

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