Monday
As an MFA candidate finishing my degree, I've partaken in plenty of writing workshops (including poetry, short fiction, and novels). And I've come to a conclusion: workshops usually consist of four types of commentary, and three of them don't necessarily serve the examined writer. In essence, writing workshops contain a substantial amount of irrelevant thoughts. I will break these categories down in the hopes that prospective MFA students know what to expect and experienced students will be more judgmental of the "help" they give.
The least important comments are the ones that reference other literature (and do nothing else). Someone seeking to impress everyone in the room with his/her knowledge of literature will pull an old reference out of thin air and then wait for the praise (either verbal or through body language). If a poem or story is about prostitution, someone will say, "This reminds me of Moll Flanders" and stop there. Good for you. I will admit, though, that while discussing Uncle Tom's Cabin last week, I was tempted to make a comparison to Madame Bovary. But I stopped myself. Good for me too, I guess.
After a person references something only he/she understands, there is usually a prolonged silence as the rest of the group ponders his/her sentiment. Eventually, if the silence lasts long enough, someone will say something totally irrelevant. The longer the room stays quiet, the more desperate people become to say anything. The silence makes them feel awkward and uneasy, and they want to impress the professor, so they search the text what seems like eternity until, finally, they've come to the conclusion that "I really like your use of 'rectangle' instead of 'square'." Yeah, me too.
The participants who tell the class how they would write the story/poem/whatever (instead of how the writer could) are easily more relevant. While phrasing a suggestions as "I would" instead of "You could" insinuates some pretension, it's still shows some insight and consideration into the examined writer's process. Even when people in the group begin with "well, in one of my stories, I" (which is very self-centered), they are adding something intriguing to the discussion.
Workshop attendees should always aim to fit into the fourth and most relevant category—those who, after seeing something to ignite passion in them, simply state a possible alteration. Suggestions like "I like the use of heat here, but I think replacing 'hot' with 'fiery' or 'scolding' will make it a more unique, sensual sentence" are perfect. Those comments are what workshops are for; they deliver knowledgeable consideration for a contemporary in a friendly tone.
This examination is by no means a denouncement of workshops—they are a fun and necessary part of the learning process for writers. However, people in workshops need to really consider how useless, self-serving, or important their comments are. Every writing workshop features these four types of commentary, so don't feel bad if you've exemplified the more pointless ones in the past. We all have.
But, please, don't do it anymore.
About the Author
Jordan Blum is an MFA in Creative Writing (Fiction) candidate at Rosemont College. His poetry has been published in Venture Magazine and he is in the process of revising several short stories, flash pieces and a novel for publication. He hopes to teach creative writing at the university level. When not writing fiction/poetry, he focuses on his other passion, music. He records his own progressive rock pieces as well as writes music journalism for three online publications and Ticket magazine in Montgomery Country. He lives in northeast Philadelphia. 
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