This year’s winner of the WD Short Short Story Competition is Eleanore D. Trupkiewicz. In under 1,500 words, Trupkiewicz’s story captured our attention with its simplicity and strength. “Poetry by Keats,” which you may read here, is the story of Marianne, who has grown too comfortable in her relationship with Nick, whom she plans to marry. Yet, she finds herself drawn to Jarrett—a near-total stranger who visits her after hours at the diner where she works. The internal struggle she experiences drives the plot.

In this extended Q&A, Trupkiewicz describes her inspiration for the story, the keys to a successful short story, and more.

What do you think are the biggest benefits and challenges of writing a successful short story?

Success is what happens when you write because you can’t bring yourself not to write, because the story or poem or novel burning inside you demands to be written with an insistence and passion that overrides everything else in your life. The greatest challenge to writing a short story, for me, is the inevitable word limit; there’s nothing more intimidating (and, yet, necessary) than sitting down to write with a word limit (or some other imposed parameter) looming over me.

Describe your writing process for this story.

I used to think that writing short stories was impossible. Really, who could fit an entire story, with characters and plot and setting and everything else the nebulous “they” say you need when it comes to writing fiction, in a few hundred or thousand words? Friends and family who know my writing style describe it most kindly as loquacious, so I really can’t explain the success of “Poetry by Keats” any more than I can explain why I write in the first place. It was something I had to write because it demanded to be written.

Did you have a certain inspiration for this story?

My inspiration for this story, actually, came through years of observation. Have you ever noticed that a lot of men, particularly young men, drive with one hand or even just one wrist on the steering wheel? There’s something simultaneously safe and dangerous about that: safe because I know a man is an excellently capable driver when he handles a vehicle like that, and dangerous because even then, I never know what the travel or the road might throw in the way to make the situation suddenly not safe anymore. I really started the story with Nick, actually, instead of Marianne (my protagonist). What kinds of men drive with that kind of assurance?

How long have you been writing? How did you start? Do you write full time?

I’ve been a writer for sixteen years. I started writing picture book fairy tales when I was in second grade, as a school assignment, and then my teacher gifted me a copy of Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, and I knew I wanted to be known some day for my ability to write something with that same epic grandeur and staying power. One of my goals is to have the flexibility to write full time.

Who has inspired you as a writer?

I have an atypical answer to this question. My greatest inspiration for writing what I write is the Christian fiction market, and that inspiration has been negative rather than positive. I’m an unashamed Christian, but a lot of Christian fiction reads flat and unlikeable to me, where the biggest problem a character faces is his or her salvation. I decided years ago, in frustration, that I wanted to write Christian fiction that was actually lifelike and realistic, even if it meant using curse words or including sex or violence, because real people are flawed, hurting, multidimensional people who make mistakes, hit rock bottom, have regrets, enjoy their sexuality, are driven to commit violent acts, swear when the need arises, and don’t have all the neat, tidy answers at the end of the book.

What genres do you write in? Do you generally just stick to short stories or flash fiction?

I usually only write short stories under duress because I prefer a full-length novel (or, better yet, a series) with which to really come to know my characters as intimately as possible. I write supernatural thrillers and romantic suspense, any combination thereof, always with my faith as the foundation, and I’m currently dabbling in paranormal thrillers.

Describe your typical writing routine.

In a word (or three): sporadic, at best. I write when an idea seizes me and won’t let go, or when a character walks into my head and introduces himself or herself and won’t shut up until I’ve “written them out,” in the words of L. M. Montgomery. I wrote my first novel (a regrettably sappy romance that I’ve since relegated to recycling) in three months, when I was in high school, because the writing bug bit me and I couldn’t refuse.

How would you describe your writing style?

My writing style is always evolving. From all the years I’ve spent in academia, I tend to wield a certain professional formality in my diction, almost as a reflex, but that kind of style doesn’t cut it when I’m writing fiction or dialogue. “Poetry by Keats” is an easy, informal style, more dialogue and action than internal thought, so it flows the way Marianne experiences her life. I also usually write what I believe (this sentiment is only partly tongue-in-cheek): “Why use a single word when a paragraph or two will say the same thing?”

What are the keys to a successful short story?

A successful short story is the one that you couldn’t wait to get written because the characters were so alive in your head that you found yourself holding whole conversations with them (you know your characters actually exist, whether everyone around you believes it or not). Short stories mean limiting the number of characters you include, and even picking just a single scenario to focus on, because you don’t have the kind of time you would in a novel to add subplots and layers. I prefer the fast pace of more dialogue and conversation than description, but that’s a personal preference.

What’s the one thing you can’t live without in your writing life?

A spiral-bound college-ruled notebook. I do all my writing on a computer, but I write down scraps of dialogue, descriptions, plot points, outlines, and lists of character names in the notebook that I always carry. I have whole shelves of notebooks, all packed with material.

Where do you get ideas for your writing?

Anything can be an idea for writing: a word, an impression, a picture, an emotion, a conversation, a random thought, a quote. When I’m in the middle of writing something, and an idea occurs to me for another story or novel, I write down whatever inspired me as well as the idea itself, so I can jog my memory when I look back at it. I am a word person above all, so I tend to latch on to lines of dialogue from books or movies first thing for my inspiration. Take such a sentence out of its original context and give it a new context with new characters, and you’re off and running.

What is the best piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?

I was privileged to take several classes on writing suspense from successful thriller author Robert Liparulo at a writing conference, and in one of the classes, he said that reading books about writing doesn’t get anything written. Writing gets the story written. I resolved to stop using writing books to procrastinate and excuse myself from never finishing anything, and he has been absolutely correct.

What are your goals as a writer: for your career and your work?

It sounds trite to say that I want to be a published novelist one day, but I’d be lying by omission if I left the sentiment out of this interview. I’m in the middle of writing a supernatural thriller, and I have a series of eight or ten books planned out of this first project. And I’d like to publish a poetry chapbook, having only recently discovered that I really enjoy writing poetry as well as fiction, thanks to my poetry professor from my undergraduate studies.

Any final thoughts or advice?

Nothing comes to mind, really. If you’re called to be a writer, and you’d rather write than breathe, then I won’t be able to say anything to convince you to stop doing what you’re doing (not that I’d want to). If you’re casting about for a calling, writing is as good as any, but it demands that you be willing to “stand naked in the wind,” to quote author Norma Johnston, and bare your soul and passion to everybody for their collective judgment. If you can do that, and still want to write more than you want to breathe, you’ve found your calling.

Here is the winning story of WD’s 14th Annual Short Short Story Competition: “Poetry by Keats,” by Eleanore D. Trupkiewicz. 

I.

Nick handles his truck like he handles life, with a lot of cocky bravado and dumbass luck. He drives with one wrist on the steering wheel and only checks the mirrors when he hears something out of the ordinary.

I watch his free hand move from the air conditioning, which hasn’t worked since last summer, to the radio tuner and then into his shirt pocket. He takes out a cigarette, glances at me, and tucks it behind his ear instead of lighting it. “Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He puts his hand on my knee. “What color ring you want?”

Really, again? “Whatever you can afford.”

“No, for real. I’ll figure something out.”

I give him a sidelong look, and he shakes his head. “Ray owes me two hundred, for some work a while back.”

I don’t ask what kind of work. “I could wear your class ring. It’s okay with me.”

He takes his hand back. “Ray told me he saw you at the café last week.”

“There’s a surprise.”

“He said it was late, Wednesday or Thursday night. After ten.”

I look out the passenger side window at rows of tasseled corn and feel sweat collect along my hair. “Mindy’s out of town. I worked late all last week to cover.”

“I thought the café closed at nine.”

“If I’m still up to my ass in customers after nine o’clock, I keep serving.”

“Ray said you were the only one there, except for that McGregor kid.” Nick sounds like he’s talking through his teeth.

Goddamn it. “That was Wednesday night. He just wanted a drink.” I swallow. “If Ray had come by on Thursday night, he would’ve seen just me and Mr. Miller, who ordered coffee until I kicked him out near midnight.”

“Mr. Miller is sixty-eight years old if he’s a day, Marianne. It’s hell and away not the same thing.”

“The same thing as what?”

Nick makes a left turn without signaling and says, “Ray said you and the McGregor kid looked pretty close.”

“Ray’s got horse shit for brain. I was a whole counter away from Jarrett McGregor. Who are you going to believe, Nick, Ray or me?”

“Well…you, I guess.” He pulls up in front of my house and puts on the brakes. He turns toward me. “Do I get a kiss or not?”

Sure, I’m ready for him to feel me up after this conversation. I feel like I got backstabbed. “Not tonight. I’ve got to get changed and get to the café.”

“Need a ride?” He’s looking out the windshield, at my parents’ sprawling farmhouse and the half-assed fence around the property.

“No thanks.” I let myself out of the cab of the truck. “See you later.”

“Marianne—”

I slam the door and jog to the side of the driveway. Nick throws the truck in gear and muscles it around and away, out of sight.

II.

The thing about Jarrett McGregor is that he isn’t what I thought. Hell, I don’t know what I expected, I think, as I study him later that night. “What’s that you’re reading?” I ask on my way to table six, in the corner, with their check.

Jarrett leans over a mug of hot coffee—“Just black’s fine, ma’am”—and the steam makes his eyes glassy when he looks up at me over an open book with small print. “Poetry.”

Table six leaves me a dollar for a tip, after I brought extra napkins and didn’t say anything when the baby dumped his plate all over the rug. I heave the tray of smeared dishes onto my shoulder and trudge it back to the kitchen.

Jarrett’s hand reaches out and snags my sleeve on my way past the counter. “Need help?” I think about it. It’s just him and me here, and it’s past ten o’clock. If I lock the front door and turn out the lights, maybe nobody driving by will see inside. “You’re a paying customer.”

He slants me a look, and the fog in his green eyes clears. “I’m not better than you just because I’m drinking coffee you made and served.”

“You’re not?”

He closes the book of poetry, gets up, and takes the tray. “Where does this go?”

“Back there,” I say stupidly, with a vague gesture to the kitchen. “I didn’t mean—”

“Lock up.” He smiles. “I’ll wash.”

The deadbolt turns with a creak of protest. I lower the shades all over the place and snap off the overhead lights in the windows.

III.

Reverend Wilkes looks right at me as he concludes his sermon on Sunday morning. “Repent, ye sinners, for our God is a jealous God.” He wags his head the other direction. “Let us pray.”

I’m an upstanding citizen, so it wouldn’t look right for me to slide down in my chair. I fold my hands and stare at my fingers. Do I need to repent spending another Wednesday night with Jarrett McGregor, when he washed and I dried and he talked to me about Keats and poems like songs, and we never touched, not even accidentally as we passed the dishes between us?

Nick finds me after service and pulls me around the corner of the building. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his hands tremble. “Ray says you were out late again this week.”

“Mindy’s still gone.” I stare over his shoulder as people file out of the sanctuary.

“Ray told me—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to Ray so much.”

Nick grabs my arm. “Listen, Marianne, when Ray talks, I listen. He tells me what to watch out for.”

“What, like me?”

“Like that McGregor kid.”

“Jarrett’s got nothing to do with this. You’re jealous. Nick, let go of me—!”

He steps back, his eyes dark black. “So it’s Jarrett now, is that it? What about my getting you a ring?”

“Did you get it yet?”

“I’m going to tell that McGregor kid to stay away from you.”

“Did you get me a ring, or didn’t you?”

“Are you marrying me, or aren’t you?”

“Leave Jarrett alone. There’s nothing going on.” A handful of conversations doesn’t guarantee me anything. I push past Nick. “I have to get to work.”

“Café’s closed on Sundays!” he calls after me, and everybody turns to look.

IV.

Another Wednesday night, I send Mindy home early. “I can handle closing after doing it for two weeks. Nobody else is coming tonight. Go home and sleep.”

“I look that awful?” She wavers, pushing damp hair out of her face. “I didn’t think I’d be so tired.”

“Funerals suck life out of everybody.” I scrub yellow mustard, dried crisp and dark, off the counter. “Go home.”

She rinses the coffee pot, apologizes again, and finally leaves. Ten minutes later, Mr. Miller wads up his newspaper and leaves his mug on the counter for me.

It’s twenty minutes to ten o’clock.

I wipe fourteen tables and both counters. It takes me five minutes. I sweep the floor, front and back, and that takes six minutes. A wad of pale pink gum on the underside of table nine kills a butter knife and another three minutes.

Six minutes left.

Is it sinful to manufacture chores to keep me here?

I turn out the lights but leave the shades up and go to the kitchen, where I wipe the flat- top with paper towels. Grease soaks through like motor oil and slicks my hands.

Nobody comes.

By half after, I’m reorganizing the jars and cans of food on the shelves in the back. There’s no way I can see the front door from where I’m working.

What if he doesn’t come?

At quarter to eleven, I dump the rest of the coffee. It oozes into the sink like a thick black slug. It smells scorched. It probably would’ve tasted like tar.

I wish I’d saved it, in case he comes after all. Second time in two weeks I’ve felt this way. I’m in the back, storing the coffee pot for tomorrow, when the bell on the front door jingles.

I wish I’d locked the damn thing.

V.

Jarrett slides onto a stool at the counter and lays a book down in front of him. His knuckles are bruised, and there’s dried blood in a streak under his nose. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s not like we agreed to meet.”

He stares at the counter. “Somebody told me I shouldn’t come here anymore.”

That explains the bruises. “Was it Nick?”

“He didn’t say his name.”

Probably just started swinging. I push away from the door frame. “Want some coffee?”

He glances up and holds my gaze with clear eyes. “Any left?”

I swallow. “For you, yeah.”

He puts one hand on the book. “Want me to read something?”

“Yeah, but . . . lock the door first.”

VI.

Next morning, Nick has a shiner, and a bruise on his jaw the shape of Jarrett’s knuckles.

Ransom Riggs is an author and filmmaker best known for the book Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. Its sequel, Hollow City, released in January 2014.

In each issue of Writer’s Digest magazine, we ask a contributor to travel back in time and step into the role of an unconvinced, perhaps fool-hearted editor who rejects a future hit. During my interview with Riggs for the July/August issue of WD, I asked him to do the same. Here’s that exchange, and a few extra outtakes for good measure.

–

Imagine you’re a time-traveling editor with bad taste. The manuscript for a hit comes across your desk, and you, being short-sighted and terrible, decide it isn’t worthy of printing. Which hit book would you reject, and why?

The Lord of the Rings trilogy would be ridiculous.  [I would say], “It’s so long. It’s in Elvish, whatever that is. Nothing like this has ever been published. And who’s going to be interested in these tiny little hairy, ape-footed beings? This is the time for serious literature, sir, not made-up fairly tales. You take yourself very seriously.”

I don’t know how that got published, actually. It’s seems impossible in hindsight.

And now you’re an editor who has to reject one of Ransom Riggs’s books. How does that go down?

Well, Miss Peregrine, I don’t know how that got made. If I were an editor I would [say], “This is for teenagers, but it’s full of black and white photos of old dead people, which doesn’t make any sense. And it starts out as a book about a kid and his grandpa in Florida, but then suddenly it takes this left turn about halfway through … and we’re talking about time travel and loops and magical powers, and nothing that the reader signed up for. I don’t think that’s going to work at all. No one’s going to read that.”

Aren’t you glad you didn’t see your book before it was published, then?

I’m lucky I wasn’t there for that.

Is it surprising to you that people love the books so much?

It’s just weird in a great way. It’s wonderful.

You and your wife, bestselling YA author Tahereh Mafi, both released books early this year, and both your movies are optioned by Twentieth Century Fox. Do you have a competition going, and if so, who is winning?

No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We are just one another’s biggest fans and supporters. We’re Team Ransom & Tahereh. Whenever something good happens to her, I feel like it’s a good thing that’s happening for me. That’s how it should work, I think.

So let’s talk about your Peculiar Children series. The peculiars, children with special powers and strange abilities, attend Miss Peregrine’s School for Peculiar Children. You went to Pine View School for the Gifted, which sounds strangely similar. Are you secretly a peculiar?

Yes. No. I’ll have to cultivate an air of mystery around that question. … When I was writing the book, [I didn’t] make that connection. And then someone mentioned it to me and I was like, “Oh, interesting.” I guess that’s the writer revealing himself through fiction in ways that he doesn’t even notice until later.

[Pine View] was an unusual school in that it was a place where we didn’t have any sports or jocks or, for many years, even a real campus or cafeteria. It was portables all arranged in a sort of semicircle. … Eventually we got a real campus.

It was a public school; you just had to pass an IQ test to get in. Now that I’ve long-since graduated and can benefit from this, it’s recognized as one of the top schools in all of Florida and people move to little tiny Sarasota from other countries just so their kids can go to school there. But back when I was going, they were threatening to shut it down every year, and they were saying, “This is a waste of money and public resources.” It was crazy.

It was a safe pace to be a nerd and care about doing well on your schoolwork—there were actually a lot of good schools in Sarasota County Florida­—but a lot of people had super-traumatic high school experiences where they felt, like, super “other” than other people and weird, and the only way that I was weird at Pine View was that I was not super-good at math. And everyone else was. I was super-good at English, and everyone else was like, “I don’t get that.”

Did you have a Miss Peregrine, not necessarily in bird form, but as a person to look up to?

No, not really. I didn’t. … Everyone loved this particular math teacher, Mrs. Meyers. I had just limped my way through pre-Calculus, and because of social pressure, I was planning on taking AP Calculus A, or something crazy-advanced like that, and she took me aside and said, “You’re good at other things, right? Don’t take my class. I need the space for people who are actually good at math.” And I [said], “Ok,” and that was that.

So did you have any English teachers who were super-happy to have you?

I had some great English teachers. One of my favorite—her name was Linda Janoff—was wonderful and so irreverent, and so smart and encouraging. … In the ninth grade, she made everyone who took her Honors English class dress up like a famous author at the end of the year, and we would have to have a booth on campus and we would all line up at our booths dressed as … Eudora Welty or Mark Twain, and I went as William Faulkner. I had a big gray wig and the pipe and everything.

–

Procrastination is a problem for a lot of writers. Do you have trouble making yourself work sometimes?

Well, it’s productive procrastination, if that makes sense. I spent three months plotting [Peculiar Children] Book 3, which involved a lot of being on Wikipedia, typing long letters to myself in Scrivener, and then [thinking], I should check my email.

And once in a while, once I’d had enough coffee, I’d think, Oh! Maybe that thing should happen, or maybe I need a system of notecards… No no, 3×5 cards. Wait! No, a special journal. I need a special notebook or something; I need a Moleskine. I need a different-sized Moleskine. I need a red Moleskine.”

Everyone should have a red Moleskine.

Oh, I know. I think I have like 10 now.

–

Let’s talk about the model of Miss Peregrine’s Home that [your wife] Tahereh [Mafi] commissioned for your birthday. It looks museum-level amazing.

The miniature replica of Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, crafted and photographed by Michael DelPriore.

It’s amazing! It is. It’s incredible. It’s really amazing. I was so floored. She had it delivered the day before [my birthday] and the guy who made it actually came to the house. He accompanied it across the country on an airplane. They tried to make him put it in the overhead compartment and he complained so loudly that they strapped it into a free seat in first class. And so he brought it to the house, it was the day before my birthday, and it was wrapped in black trash bags so I couldn’t see.

It was just this big square thing, and he was like, “Hi, I’m Mike,” and I was like “Hi…?” And he said, “Well, have good birthday tomorrow,” and I said, “Thanks, what do you do for a living?” And he told me, “I can’t tell you that.” It was strange. But the model itself is incredible. I couldn’t believe it.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

The full interview with Ransom Riggs can be found in the July/August 2014 issue of Writer’s Digest, on newsstands June 3, 2014.
___________________________________________________________________________________________

Adrienne Crezo is the managing editor of Writer’s Digest magazine. She lives and writes in Ohio. Her work has been featured on MentalFloss.com, The Atlantic, Business Insider, The Week and many other print and web publications. You can follow her on Twitter at @a_crezo.

Writing often is a solitary endeavor, one that easily can lead to loneliness. You can spend hours alone at your desk, staring at your computer screen or a blank page, without encountering another human being (and no, tweets and Facebook messages don’t count). While some writers thrive in solitude, others crave the interaction with other writers—members of their own clan who will encourage them, inspire them and support them when the writing road gets rough.

If you’re seeking the companionship of fellow scribes, you needn’t look farther than your own neighborhood or city. Writing groups abound in nearly every town, and if your own neck of the woods doesn’t currently offer one, consider forming one of your own. In this online exclusive, seven groups from around the U.S. share their top tips for making their small community work. Their candid answers illuminate the best formats, possible pitfalls and lessons learned, gleaned from years of cultivating an intimate writing community. Use their advice to seek out the best writing group for you—or create a list of “must-haves” for your own group.

And for even more advice on joining, forming and maintaining a successful writing group, check out our feature in the July/August 2014 issue of Writer’s Digest!

Atlanta Writers’ Collective

We’re intensely focused, motivated writers who understand the importance of constructive criticism and honesty, and consider the knowledge we gain from hearing critiques of other members’ work just as educational as hearing critiques of our own work. With the help of four large frisky dogs, delicious food and a bottomless coffee pot, we keep our small but mighty pack enthusiastically circling back month after month as we nip at each other’s paws, propelling our members forward. The writing skills we learn from each other due to the eclectic cross-genre perspectives and diverse styles of the members is invaluable, an experience that can’t be taught by any conventional research or study methods.

WRITING FROM: Snellville, Ga.

SIZE: We have nine carefully-chosen members, many of whom have been members for years. (Front row, left to right: Kristine Ward, Natalie Watts, Kerry Denney, Ken Schmanski; back row, left to right: Lorraine Norwood, Lynda Fitzgerald, Glenn Emery, Richard Bowman, Mike Brown)

FORMAT: We critique two writers’ entries each month, 20 to 25 pages apiece, submitted one to two weeks in advance. At the meetings, each member has five to seven minutes to give a verbal critique, and each supplies a written critique. Writers being critiqued remain silent during the critiques, then spend 10 to 15 minutes responding by discussing their material with the group after all critiques are finished. Our group consistently tries to be supportive and encouraging while providing honest, discerning feedback, complimenting the writer on parts that work and sharing ideas about how to fix the parts that do not. Each writer is encouraged to critique using their own unique perspective and skills, with an optional standard critique form supplied.

MEET UP: We meet on the first Saturday of each month for two to three hours in a comfortable setting at a member’s home. We spend a casual 20 to 30 minutes prior to the meeting having coffee and snacks, and freely discussing whatever we choose, then we spend 15 minutes sharing any helpful writing tips, links or books we’ve encountered the past month before beginning. This social time has brought us closer together as a group.

BETWEEN MEETINGS: We write, write, write! All members are encouraged to discuss and share works further at their leisure, and we stay in contact through a Yahoo Groups site, sharing articles, ideas, successes, goals, dreams, anecdotes and books (informative books on writing and/or entertaining stories and novels), along with a liberal dose of good humor, which plays a vital role in our correspondence.

LESSONS LEARNED: To be successful writers, we must work to improve our knowledge and skills in both the craft and business of writing. By meeting regularly with people we trust who attend every meeting with enthusiasm, positive energy and a supportive attitude, we all learn how to improve our writing craft, how to accept constructive criticism as a helpful tool instead of a creativity barrier, and how to incorporate all facets of the standard policies and procedures in the literary industry into our endeavors. We’ve all learned to check our egos at the door. If one person says something doesn’t work, we listen, but if three or more make the same observation, we seriously consider making the suggested revision.

TIPS: Invite prospective new members to attend a critique meeting before they’re accepted into the group. Request a writing sample to determine their level of expertise. This doesn’t determine whether they’re invited to join the group, but rather helps the group establish if and how we can help them.

The Bearlodge Writers

The Bearlodge Writers (BLW) group has been active since 1979. BLW is open to any writer, new or experienced, seeking a welcoming, safe place to present work for praise and for constructive, sensitive critique. The group works with writers from first draft to last revision prior to publication. While BLW’s main mission is to offer assistance and support to one another, it has also sponsored writers’ residencies and scholarships and participated in writers conferences.

WRITING FROM: Sundance, Wyo.

SIZE: Currently, we have 20 members on our active email list. Members have ranged in age from 15 to 82.

FORMAT: BLW’s format is simple and effective. We sit around a large table located in a conference room at a very supportive local library, read the work, and garner both praise and critique from the other writers present at the table. At one time, we did not bring copies of the work to pass around, but simply read the work while listeners made notes. Now, writers bring copies of the material to pass around the table. The writer reads while listeners write notes on the pages or suggest comments, and marks any corrections. Sometimes, a writer will ask another writer to read the material. After critique, all copies are signed and returned to the writer. It cannot be stressed enough that we value kindness and respect for each writer’s work above criticism.

MEET UP: BLW gathers at the Sundance Library on the first Tuesday of every month, at 11:00 a.m., and on the third Tuesday at 5:00 p.m. One member travels more than 150 miles, round trip, for meetings. Others come from neighboring South Dakota, a round-trip drive of about 60 miles. Those arriving first start the coffee and set out snacks—including lots of chocolate. Before the reading and critique session, BLW spends about 30 minutes discussing any business, sharing information about writing successes and publishing opportunities, and answering general questions. Those present needn’t have a piece of writing on a given day. Those who have brought work to be critiqued draw from a bag of dominoes that is passed around the table. Work is read in order from the smallest domino number to the largest. Each writer brings a unique and valued skill set to the table. We have writers who envision the story arc, ferret out the thread of the writer’s intent and give advice on overall structure. Others are “grammar police,” able to determine proper word usage and phrasing. Members often comment about how the piece affects them emotionally and/or intellectually.

SUPPORTING EACH OTHER: Most importantly, it is about respect for the writer and the work. We are earnest about sharing a deep level of trust. What is read or said at BLW stays at the table until such time as the author chooses to share it. We offer consistent and sincere encouragement. As one member recently stated, “Bearlodge Writers is a safe place to be vulnerable.”

LESSONS LEARNED: Our individual successes help perpetuate and encourage the success of everyone in the group. The consistency of the format offers stability, and although members have come and gone—we recently lost one irreplaceable and beloved founding member—the heart and the purpose of the group remains the same: To encourage, respect and nurture writers, honor their processes, and celebrate their victories, whether that victory involves finishing a first draft or achieving publication. Welcoming new members keeps the group vibrant, while long-time members offer an historical and experienced perspective.

Dallas/Fort Worth Writers’ Workshop (DFWWW)

We help and encourage North Texas writers of all genres and experience levels to produce professional-quality writing suitable for publication. We do this by providing read and critique sessions, educational activities, networking opportunities and a welcoming, inclusive atmosphere.

WRITING FROM: Euless, Texas

SIZE: 164 members (as of the February 5, 2014 monthly business meeting)

FORMAT: We are a read-and-critique group. That means instead of submitting material for critique prior to the meeting, our members read their writing aloud. This process benefits the writer and the critiquer because both learn to listen for inconsistencies, word echoes, pacing problems, etc.

We have used this format for 30-plus years (the group was established in 1977). DFWWW authors have produced over 300 traditionally published books. We don’t alter the format. It works.

We begin promptly at 7 p.m. and hold a general meeting for 10-15 minutes. We ask any visitors to stand and introduce themselves (we average one to two visitors a week). We ask any new members to stand and reintroduce themselves.

Then, we break into three or four smaller Read Rooms where writers read their work aloud. We are a multi-genre group and do not segregate by genre. This is an advantage because it exposes our membership to other forms of writing that they may not typically read. It’s not unusual for a memoir, YA, thriller, science fiction, a poem, and a nonfiction magazine article to be read in the same room.

Each writer is allowed up to 15 minutes to read, and then receives up to five minutes of round-robin critique. Each reader gets no more than 20 minutes. We average six to seven readers per room and about 20 to 28 reads per week. To stay on track, each room has a monitor. We have the process down to an art.

SUPPORTING EACH OTHER: At the beginning of each weekly meeting, members announce any rejections, submissions or acceptances that occurred since we last met. The group applauds for all of them. It often surprises visitors that we clap for rejections. Our philosophy is “Rejection should be celebrated because it’s part of the submission process. You can’t sell if you don’t submit.”

LESSONS LEARNED: Despite DFWWW’s long and successful history, time has shown that we cannot rest on our laurels. Just as the publishing industry has changed, so have we. More of our members now choose to self-publish versus pursuing the traditional route. At the same time, the number of our members who have sold to traditional publishing houses has also grown.

TIPS: We have a written set of bylaws that govern how the group operates. These include checks and balances that regulate how we function to avoid any confusion.

We recognize our style of read-and-critique does not work for everyone. We encourage potential new members to visit once or twice before they join (membership dues are $100 annually). Because only paid members are allowed to read or to give a critique, we also offer a 30-day trial membership ($25) for anyone who wants to sample the full experience.

We remain focused on our primary goal: writing. We do not allow other distractions to interfere with our stated purpose: “to produce professional quality writing suitable for publication.”

Prose Group

We are a group of men and women who are all interested in words. Some of us are published authors (both self and traditional); others want simply to learn how to write better. Some write fiction; many write creative nonfiction. We congratulate each other on successes and sympathize over rejections.

WRITING FROM: Fearrington Village, Pittsboro, N.C.

SIZE: Eight members (From left to right: Carlton Lee, Laura Jensen, Dick Merwarth and Ronnie Lynton [seated], Caroline Taylor, and Les Ewen; not pictured: Calista Moon and Paul Stiller)

FORMAT: We have had the same format and the same coordinator for the entirety of our existence. Our format is to agree on a topic or theme (and sometimes genre) for the next meeting. Members are always free to submit something they’re already working on. A format that hasn’t worked well for us is to write for publication in a specific journal or magazine.

We made a decision to keep the group small. Our size gives each member time to ask questions, provide feedback and make suggestions. We meet for two hours and normally fill every second with conversation. We have always tried to keep our critiques positive and encouraging.

MEET UP: Submissions are circulated in advance by email. At our monthly meetings each member reads a paragraph from his or her submission, and others critique the work for its strengths and weaknesses. Discussions occur about what approaches or techniques the writer might consider using to strengthen the piece.

SUPPORTING EACH OTHER: This group has been meeting for nearly seven years with more or less the same members, many of whom have taken input from the group to get stories or novels published. Last year we had a very successful open-to-the-public “writers read” at McIntyre’s Books, a local independent bookstore.

TIPS: Focus discussions on the actual writing, not the subject matter. During our meetings we stress the need for limiting discussions to the writing. Submitted pieces should include not only the name of the author but should identify the work as either fiction or nonfiction.

Road Warriors

We are a rambunctious mishmash of women that talk loud, fight passionately about word choices and always order dessert. We have members in their 20s , 30s, 40s and 50s, and we write scripts, novels, steampunk and nonfiction (and a few more genres.)

WRITING FROM: Los Angeles, Calif.

SIZE: 5 members.

FORMAT: We go over everyone’s work one at a time and share notes one at a time, too. We do discuss things as a group, but we also make sure everyone gets a turn to talk. This has been crucial and extremely helpful in terms of getting comprehensive notes and not pissing anyone off.

MEET UP: We meet once a month and go over any pages group members have sent. We all send pages a minimum of two days before we meet so we all have enough time to read each other’s work. We order drinks and food, and dive into discussing each other’s work. If a person is particularly stressed or has a big project, we’ll go over their pages first. It’s a loosely structured format, but we are very mindful of respecting each other’s work and making sure everyone has a chance to share their notes. We also believe in ordering dessert and drinks, because chocolate and alcohol make it much easier to hear that you need to rework Act 2 of your screenplay or that your main love interest is bland.

BETWEEN MEETINGS: At the end of each meeting we set the date for our next one and each state our goals for what we want to accomplish in the interim. We also email each other questions if we want some feedback before we meet again.

SUPPORTING EACH OTHER: Month after month we show up ready to hear each other’s worries and breakthroughs, and to dedicate time and energy to reading and thinking about each other’s work. This is huge. It’s amazing to have a group of women we can send drafts to and get back comprehensive, thoughtful notes. It’s also amazing to have a group of writers to complain about writers block, carpal tunnel, and how you can momentarily go insane trying to find the right sentence to end a chapter with. It is beyond encouraging to hear about other’s struggles and have them support you in yours. It creates a community you can check in with, who will talk you down from giving up on your projects because they’ve all been there before and believe in you. Never underestimate the power of commiserating and being encouraged by other people sharing the highs and lows of the writing life.

LESSONS LEARNED: That all first drafts are shitty; we have writers who are both newbies and professionals, and all of our drafts need work. Notes from a diverse group of people are insanely beneficial. We all specialize in such varying genres and mediums, and it makes our work better.

TIPS: Pick quiet restaurants to meet in with good food. Handle any conflicts or problems head on. Always say what you liked about someone’s writing first. If you follow those three rules you’re pretty much guaranteed to have a good time. It’s also important to spend some time just having fun at each meeting. This bonds you and lets you get to know each other, which can make your notes more meaningful and insightful.

Trail Mix Publishing

We are unique in that we have KidLit authors and illustrators from all genres: picture books, middle-grade and young adult. We each bring different skills and background, yet we share a burning passion for children’s literature.

WRITING FROM: Atlanta, Ga.

SIZE: Seven members: Colleen Bennett, Kim MacPherson, Shannon Martin Marrs, Shanda McCloskey, Tosha Sumner, Christi Whitney, and Aaron Yacher.

MEET UP: Our goal is to meet once a month. Sometimes it’s difficult to arrange the meeting due to our busy schedules, but it’s always worth the effort.

We’ve all become good friends, and so after catching up on each other’s lives, we go around the table reading our work aloud and offering suggestions and comments. The illustrators in the group also share their newest pieces during this time.

BETWEEN MEETINGS: We write, and/or draw, and keep the lines of communication open via Facebook and email. At almost any given time, you can find at least two or three of us exchanging works-in-progress, bouncing around ideas, getting advice and lending a supportive ear.

SUPPORTING EACH OTHER: Most importantly, we listen to each other. Whether it be cheering on a full request, a contest win or a rant about a rejection or critique, we listen and empathize or sympathize. We have a private Facebook group page where we share relevant information regarding publishing, agents, editors, tips, news and where we organize our meetings. We bounce ideas off each other and read and comment on each others’ blogs. We also attend SCBWI conferences together, including travel and hotel.

LESSONS LEARNED: Traditional publishing is a hard business to break into. It takes a supportive village to get you through the ups and downs along the journey to publishing.

TIPS: Our group ultimately found each other through SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) which is a great starting point in finding people who are serious about their craft.

Two-Thirties

We call ourselves the Two-Thirties, which approximates the sum of our ages and the time of day we meet. We are a band of committed women writers between the ages of 50 and 80. We write in multiple genres:  fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and screenplays. We love the power and beauty of language. We each have two books either published or forthcoming from various publishers including Knopf, Random House, Story Line Press, and WordTech Communications. We keep writing even though we have all suffered through rejection, frustration and exhaustion. Although Tami is the current poet laureate of Montana and we’re all published, we know that we are in it for the love of the written word, not for glamor or fame. (Of course, we’d happily embrace a little fame if it happened along.)

WRITING FROM: Billings, Mont.

SIZE: There are four of us: Cara Chamberlain, Tami Haaland, Danell Jones and Virginia Tranel.

FORMAT: We send our work to one another via email before our meetings, so we have time to read before we meet. We typically limited ourselves to 20 pages of work per person, but if one of us has a completed manuscript, we’ll read the entire thing so we can talk about pacing, organization, plot and character development, etc. We began with this format, and it worked well, so we have stuck with it.

SUPPORTING EACH OTHER: The most important thing we do is offer close and careful readings of each other’s work. We are the first audience for projects big and small. Because we meet often, we also encourage each other to keep the work coming. Our group provides a safe and understanding place to vent about our rejections and frustrations, and to celebrate our successes. It is extremely valuable to get support from writers who know what a long haul it can be between successes.

LESSONS LEARNED: Critiquing a finished piece and critiquing a work-in-progress are two different things. A finished piece needs detailed feedback. A work-in-progress needs some feedback, but also lots of encouragement as the writer works through her process. We also allow ourselves to disagree: We don’t feel pressed to come to any definitive answer about how a piece should develop. We always allow the writer to make the final decision about what needs to happen with her work.