Of course, the very best thing about a writing workshop is the writing. And learning. And reconnecting with friends. And meeting new friends. And reading. And adding new books and authors to my evergreen ‘must read’ list. And the critique groups and the brainstorming sessions and learning how to write metaphors. And expanding emotions and the story world, and parallelisms. And… you get the idea. There was a great mix of the published and not-yet published authors in Hood River last week. I enjoyed discovering how wrong I was about guessing which writers wrote what genre. We had authors writing everything from Apocalyptic to Zombies. All in all, a delightful group.
Our teachers were open and honest, and stinted us nothing. Every question was answered (at times, more than once), every concept clarified, every writing prompt meant to evoke the lessons we did not realize we’d learned until we dazzled ourselves and our peers with the passages we wrote in class. I came with many, many questions about editing, and discovered that instead of polishing the same prose pebble over and over I should be growing new rock. I learned how to dismantle my scenes for greater impact, and turn flat, quiet moments into unforgettable epiphanies. I wrote stuff that I couldn’t believe I had in me. I got a glimpse of how much better I can make the Fate novel, and am no longer satisfied with where it is today. So I’m back in the saddle this week, pulling it apart in order to put it back together; stronger, and more entertaining (I hope).
My critique group partners were both wonderful and blunt, each offering up pages that were so good or unique I wished they were mine. The Pros (Don Maass, Lorin Oberweger, and Jason Sitzes) gave me more positive feedback than I expected (or even knew I needed to hear). I’m on the right track. I am a writer.
So glad you enjoyed another Maass Workshop!! All that wisdom and writing mojo you take back with you is awesome ;-))
Love this post, Sharon. So true, especially the critiquing partners. I have so much in my head I have to get onto the page – or, rather, into my computer.
It was great seeing you again!