Last night’s Narratives Writers Group meeting included a critique of one of my own poems. Our group has been together for a year now, and I’ve long ago given up artistic ego in trade for the value of hearing and understanding the various perceptions offered of your own words. What we seek is tight writing, without any extraneous words or phrases; these ultimately lead back to the old "show, don’t tell," rule of narrative.
What doesn’t surprise me, is that this group is sharp enough to catch all the spots you let slide, whether it be story line, word use, voice, style, etc., so that a lesson is learned in each workshopped piece not only by the author, but by all the members. I think we’re each developing a practiced ear, and I, for one, have learned to be honest in and with my work; if I think something’s not going to fly, I’ll not defend it.
We all let something slide by now and then–just can’t find the perfect word so we toss in the first that comes to mind, know a time line’s not right, but figure we’ll spend time later fixing it, place a Federal Colonial house in the deserts of New Mexico (yeah, that one’s mine!)–but the pleasure and comfort of a group of minds dedicated to the art of narrative is invaluable in gracefully pointing it out.
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