writer's group process
by carol king, barbara marlowe, lavinia plonka and katey schultz

(ALL POETRY BY BARBARA MARLOWE)

Wordspour out of meno sense do they makeuntil seen.Thru another’s eyes,this groupthese womenthree marvelous others,read what I cannot.The truthof myself unravelingrearranging.These women, this groupdecipher my tumbling words asrunes to my soul.

A POINT OF DEPARTUREBY LAURA FACCIPONTI
The coffee is made and tea water steaming as I put out light snacks for our writer’s group meeting. I was up late last night reading the last few poems Barbara gave us two weeks ago. I check over some of my notes, making sure they are coherent. How do I critique a poem? I have been wondering about this ever since Barbara read aloud the first poem, Red Hats and Purple Revisited. During our last meeting at her house she had tentatively pulled the stack of poems up to the top of her working file, pushing aside the non-fiction book that she had already outlined. She gave a slight laugh of nervousness and said, “I hope thirty poems isn’t too much.”

First to arrive is Carole, who drives one and a half hours from Lake Toxaway. She is a soft-spoken woman who recently and proudly celebrated her 62nd birthday. She gives a warm greeting and then sits to go over her notes. Then Lavinia and Barbara arrive. Lavinia has a grounded earth-bound intense quality that comes through her direct and animated expressions. Barbara floats in wearing layers of flowing fabric and salt-and-pepper hair that starts stacked high on her head but eventually flows and falls around her face and shoulders as her gestures do. As I greet each of these women, I am reminded once again that they are not just writing colleagues, but now dear friends. We have shared our delicate writer’s egos with each other and many personal truths. We know these will stay with the group and be respected as much as our soulful writings.

We start off with our usual fifteen minutes devoted to check in, where we go around the table giving each person a chance to talk about what they are doing. Lavinia starts off with news that her book on emotion in the body is off to the publisher and informs us of some workshops she is teaching. I speak about how I am struggling with the next chapter in my book on acting methods, but then realize that I am writing other things that I often don’t value as writing work, like grant applications, a story for my brother’s wedding, or a book proposal. I realize that I am actually producing writing, just not the writing I publicly announced as my prioritized project. The women remind me that the purpose of this group is to be supportive of any kind of writing and that all writing needs to be valued. Barbara speaks next about her newly founded group, Wild Gray, for women over 50 who want to express themselves more freely. Carole talks of her self-imposed dismissal of her fiction book, explaining that she just needs to put it away for a while. She then announces that after reading Barbara’s poems she too was inspired to pull out some of her own poetry. She has a group of poems with her and wants to hand it out for the next meeting. I think to myself, “I better learn how to critique poetry now.”

They seem not to carewhat I’m wearing.
Did you write?
The question I’ve been
avoiding and longing.
For so long,the dream that remained
elusive is now captured.
Encapsulated
in this cocoon of a group.
Did you write?
If I did, they will
read and witness
my becoming.

***
We nest around a table,taking turns and making offerings.Odd little assortments of sweet and crunchyfinger foods and tea, helps digest the meaning.We feed each other’s soulsour mouths and minds wide open.Trusting sustenance, we swallow each other’s words.

Once check-in is complete, we start the main structure of our critique session. When we started this group we agreed to follow Liz Lerman’s Critical Response Format. We start right off with the first step, Affirmations and Observations. As each group member takes a turn offering observations of favorite poems, phrasing, and imagery, we learn that there are common favorite passages or poems. One of us affirms a juicy descriptive moment and the others quickly shuffle through their papers, wanting a second look at a passage they might have missed. Soon others are admitting that they like that passage too. Now that they heard someone else interpret it, it sounds different to them. Barbara smiles and eagerly writes notes as she listens. As the Affirmations continue I recognize that the nature of this exchange is not only to give the writer feedback. It helps the rest of us learn more about what we read. I relax more into the process of critiquing poetry as I share in these appreciations.

I was sure of writer’s blockfrozen by such limelight opportunity.But I was wrong. In the middle of the night,two nights before group,a thawing, first a trickle then full stream -words flowing!

Then it is Barbara’s turn to question us. “Are the poems too personal? Would some be better if I made them more universal?” “Does the reader benefit from the way they are grouped thematically” “I don’t really stick to a specific formula or rhyme scheme. Does that get in the way?” The group answers honestly and frankly, pointing to some that could be more universal, or some that start with a noticeable format but then break from it, and some moments that caused confusion. Lavinia also suggests two other possible thematic groupings.

The third step of our process is to ask questions of the writer. We ask Barbara to explain a specific moment in a poem, or an overall objective for the work. This really helps to clarify what Barbara’s intentions are with her work. It is a difficult process to ask a question without having it peppered with opinion or become a leading question. We often self-correct ourselves in this process admitting, “Oh, that is an opinion, I better wait.”

The fourth and final step requires us to say, “I have an opinion on _________, would you like to hear it?” This offers the writer a chance to say, “Yes” or “No.” Most often the opinion is fully accepted and welcomed, for the group has now shown appreciation for the work and the process, while a high level of respect and safety has been shared around the table. Most of the opinions shared include perceived flow problems, length issues, or that one poem could really be two. At the end we sum it all up, “Take these poems and keep working on them, they are wonderful!” Barbara beams while collecting our notes. She can now process our written notes as well as today’s discussion.
As I hand my notes to Barbara, I no longer feel inadequate in my ability to critique such a genre and am proud to be in a group that supports the sensitive process of critiquing writing. I realize today’s meeting is not just about Barbara’s writing. Each of us feels a similar self-empowerment this day.

Carole hands out her poems for the next meeting and we give appreciative hugs all around. The women step out into the sunny day calling back, “See you in two weeks!” Each of us goes off to our separate lives, writing when we can, looking forward to our next meeting and the inspirations it will reveal.Who is to say?

Dreams do come true.
Even the deepest knowing will manifest.
In this group
-this writers group,
the self I’ve known all along
but denied and now, I treasure.
I see through their eyes:
a sparkle of my own
brilliance!

THE CULTIVATION OF WRITERS
BY LAVINIA PLONKA
A stand of aspen trees is one organism connected by a vast underground set of roots, the way groups of mushrooms sprout from a network of rhizomes threading their way through a territory. Multiple manifestations of a single being is the leitmotif of my life: when I was in show business, periodically my performing partner would shake his head in wonder and simply say, “I’ve always said you’re a great bunch of gals.” He was not so subtly inferring that either I was a multi-dimensional person or just plain fragmented.

The Sufis have a saying, “I am Thou,” suggesting that each one of us is a reflection/aspect of the self. So there are the zillion Lavinias living in this petite frame, and the billions of Lavinias out in the world, masquerading as Lauras, Alans, Quoneeshas and perhaps even Fidos. Now of course, each one of them is theoretically seeing herself in me as well, making all of us somewhat like a bunch of mushrooms….
The first writers’ group I joined in Asheville was established for about a year. It was clear when I arrived that we came from different rhizomes. It fell apart shortly after I joined and I never quite shook the feeling that they all stopped coming because they found me insufferable. So I continued to sit alone in my office, working and re-working the Great American Novel that I started writing at age 7.

I remembered my friend Gretta who invited me into my first writers’ group in NYC. She just called all her friends and started a group – the way we started clubs as children. The only thing we all had in common was that we wrote, we were women, and Gretta’s friends. That group still meets, 10 years later. “Well,” I thought, “I have some friends who like to write.” I called and three women have emerged as partners in my creative flounderings.

I didn’t know them well, they didn’t know each other. But as we began to reveal our literary plans we discovered that we are writing the same book! OK, Laura’s is about acting – discovering how to take on multiple personalities. Barbara’s is a self help book that imagines the possibilities of multi-dimensional entities. Carol’s is a novel where the protagonist struggles with current relationships as she connects with ancient, mysterious aspects of her personality. And my novel is about a woman who experiences “temporal bleedthroughs” manifesting various aspects of her personalities throughout history.

So here we are, prismatic reflections of each other, blonde, brunette, redhead and wild grey, bubbly, dark, sensitive, obsessive, dancing in the light of each other’s creative struggle. Four seems like the perfect number.

We work on more than our magnum opuses. Laura’s brochure, Lavinia’s press release, Barbara’s poem a day - it’s a brainstorm session. For two hours, we are a multi-dimensional think tank. In this group, the process of self study is as important as the product we are critiquing. As we work together, we are learning how to be more mature, expressive women and through that, creating (hopefully) more powerful writing. We are a lovely grove of aspen.

Who are these womenwho seriously take my words and turntheir full attention?I thrive under their gaze and consideration.Sitting amongst such wealth, I dare to focusthe very essence of what I’ve always wanted to say

***
Did she mean to sound so harsh?
If I say the truth
will she cry?
Or miss the point? All together
we are not the same yet strangely we reflect
in each other’s words and
knowingly nod, “Ah ha.”
Our sum is a beauty to behold
and read.

I CAN’T WRITE THAT: PERFORMANCE ANXIETY, PRAISE AND QUESTIONS
BY CAROLE WAYNE KING

There’s magic in praise. Praise relaxes and warms, coaxing the release of immune boosting chemicals, nutrients for creativity. It reinforces what’s good, draining attention away from bad stuff. Children, dogs and rats already know they learn more from praise and reward than anything else. Remember the old contest between the sun and wind to get the traveler to remove his coat? Praise creates possibilities, by planting seeds. A writer receiving praise for even a small but brilliant turn of phrase can say to herself, “Well, if I did THAT maybe I can dare bring forth something more.”
There’s magic in a question – of Why, How? Why Not? Of course, only if it’s asked without a sneer. With an honest question, both the asking and answering creates possibilities as they consider alternatives. It creates new perspectives, new depths, shows relationships between parts of paragraphs and characters the writer hadn’t seen.

So that’s how I discovered that the first draft of my great American novel was horrible. Through praise and questions. After soaking up accolades for the strength of my sensual imagery, fascinating beginning and shocking (to some) honesty, I felt strong, affirmed. Appreciated, the long hours of struggle finally worthwhile.
Then the questions. Why would the heroine do that, or that? I saw so clearly what no one could have TOLD my stubborn psyche: just how badly I’d deformed both plot and character. And I knew why. The sensual honesty and daring leaps of insight that had driven some scenes couldn’t hide the lack of honesty in my own relationship to my own characters.

Which brings me to performance anxiety. I’d started with a vision that burned a fire in my belly. But of course, I couldn’t write about THAT directly; I’d get run out of town on a proverbial rail. It had to be fiction. I labored four years to construct appropriately disguised plot and characters. Being invited to join this writing group spurred me on, and I finally gathered the courage to submit the first 60 pages for their comments.
I arrived for my day on stage in catatonic composure - my usual frozen public persona when faced with total uncertainty. The bombardment – for that’s how it felt – came from all sides, first from those offended by the sex scenes. Those I’d expected and handled with what I hoped was grace and respect for their opinions. But the dam almost broke as I tried to field questions about the central character. In a blink, I saw what I’d done. It was futile to protest, explain, defend – in my struggle to hide the truth, my truth, I’d created an unreal, unlovable character, and artificial situations. I realized I couldn’t hide behind brilliant – well OK, passable –phrasing; to write good fiction, I’d have to ‘show up’ and dive into truth.

Did I cry? Yes, but not until the next group meeting, when Barbara gently asked “Are you all right with…” Then hugs came pouring in from all, and I WAS all right.
Without this group, the manuscript would have ended up in a file box along with the three other novels and dozens of stories I’ve started. With the help of these wonderful women, and their praise and questions, I just might get at least on of the finished and submitted for publication. And yes, I CAN write THAT!

We rarely say thank you.
Yet what an honor!
To read your unfolding
gives me hope
and the courage to sharply shape
my own meaning.