As Doug reads his short story aloud, the entire class laughs. The story is about Cowboy Willy, who has lost his ranch, horse, and girl to Big Bart, the evil sheriff. It contains nearly every dusty cliché ever used in tales of the Old West, but Doug has warped each tired phrase enough to make it and the story fresh and funny. Assuming too much, his fellow students and professor congratulate him on these masterfully satiric moves.

The problem: “I didn’t write a parody,” Doug says. “It’s a serious story about a good man trying to protect the things he loves.” Misreadings of authorial intention

occur often in writing workshops. Though sometimes jarring, they prompt shifts in perspective that make revision possible because they help the writer see a piece through an audience’s eyes. Such shifts in perspective sometimes teach important lessons—about the use of clichés, for example—more effectively than a professor can do through lectures alone because the writer’s words bring an immediate reaction from his or her peers. In-class workshops have other benefits, too. They motivate writers to do their best work before making it public, they clarify an assignment’s criteria, they reveal approaches and techniques that help or hurt a piece, and they allow students to test their ideas before turning them in for a grade. Though most often used in creative writing classes, in-class workshops can be as effective in writing emphasis courses—especially if the instructor can circumvent the anger, confusion, and wounded feelings that can result from harsh feedback. Careful planning can help reduce writers’ negative reactions to criticism. Effective workshops often hinge on the instructor’s setting ground rules that encourage students to give honest yet humane feedback to their fellow writers. Honesty and humanity are equally crucial. Without the honesty, students may resort to insincere praise, giving writers a false sense of confidence; without the humanity, the workshop can become brutal, preventing writers from looking past obvious weaknesses to see hidden potential in their work. Below are guidelines that can set the stage for an effective workshop:

  1. Once a writer begins presenting a piece, other students should be quiet and attentive.
  2. When the reading ends, students should begin by discussing what they like best about the piece and continue until they exhaust the virtues. If they fail to see a particular strength, the instructor should bring it to their attention. This approach helps anchor the writer in the positive. There’s something good about every piece, if only the latent potential of the idea. That said, students should give an honest assessment and avoid false, faint, or insincere praise.
  3. Students should discuss strategic issues of writing, such as structure, argument, transitions, evidence, and whether a piece satisfies the assignment (or the author’s implied purpose) before mentioning such tactical issues as phrasing, diction, and punctuation.
  4. Minor spelling, punctuation, or grammar errors can hurt the readability of a piece, so the workshop must address them, but such issues come last. Because errors can confuse the meaning of a sentence, the students’ puzzlement or misreading can be highly instructive to the writer and should be part of the critique.
  5. The instructor should remind students before each session to avoid mean- spirited, bullying, or aggressively insensitive comments that inspire fear and defensiveness rather than open, productive discussion. When harsh or inhumane behavior occurs, the instructor should intervene (in a humane, honest manner).
  6. After presenting a piece, the writer should remain silent while students offer feedback. He or she should take notes, answer any direct questions, and thank the critics for their help at the end. This “rule” allows the writer to maintain dignity and composure instead of attempting to argue points, explain away faults, or defend the indefensible.
  7. Finally, the instructor should make clear that, as an author, each writer is free to accept or reject any advice given in the workshop, including the instructor’s, since only the writer will benefit or suffer from this decision. Such a stipulation reemphasizes the writer’s responsibility for the quality of his or her work.

In a workshop, writers should be able to assume that everyone involved, especially the instructor, is offering advice with the best of intentions. Criticism should never intentionally wound or humiliate. In Doug’s case, his classmates’ praise unintentionally hurt his feelings but also caused him to reconsider his approach. After class, with an abashed expression, he asked the instructor, “So do you think I should go with the parody?” “Only if you think the rest of us are right,” the instructor said. “If not, maybe you should eliminate the clichés and come up with some fresh metaphors of your own.” Doug chose the second option.

To the extent that an in-class workshop helps a writer briefly step out of his or her perspective and take a clear look at the strengths and weaknesses of a piece, though the eyes of an audience, it is doing its job. Such shifts in perspective are a first step toward fruitful revision of a single piece, but they may also lead, over time, to long-lasting improvements in a writer’s processes and style.

Steve Sherwood

This article was written by Steve Sherwood, PhD, TCU Writing Center, for the Spring 2012 Issue of Insights Magazine.