Kim Suhr is the director of Red Oak Writing in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She organizes Saturday workshops on craft and leads Roundtable Critique Groups–in person and now (I love this) online. Let distance no longer be a barrier to joining a group! She is author, editor, and champion of other writers, helping them see the gift in their stories and encouraging them to pursue their dreams. Her guest post today does exactly that: she recognizes our tendency to downplay our work and offers insight for why we should (and how we can) honor our desire to write.
Can’t Afford a Writing Class? Maybe.
From time to time, people tell me they’d love to improve their writing, but they just can’t afford a class. Since I don’t have access to their bank accounts and spending habits, I have no way to know if this is true. But I do think that—in some cases—“not being able to afford it” is more akin to “not feeling justified in spending money on it.” And to those writers, I have one word to say: golf.
We all know people who play golf (or ski or cook or knit) with the verve of a professional despite the fact that they’ll never make a living at their passion. Still they continue to sink time and money into the activity just for the pleasure of it.
Imagine the following arguments against paying for a writing class translated into the golf scenario:
1. I don’t need a class. I’ll just get better by writing a LOT. Practice makes perfect, right?
Actually, there is much to like about this reasoning: the whole 10,000 hours to become an expert argument and all. Only thing is, if your golf stroke stinks, increasing the number of swings isn’t going to improve your game. In fact, it will probably get progressively worse or, at the very least, take a long time to get better. What will help—and in pretty short order—is an expert who can point out your dipped shoulder or the fact that your club face is open.
Same with writing. Ten thousand hours of point-of-view slips or ill-conceived plots will just make you better at bad writing. Best to get some instruction from someone who knows that they’re talking about. Then, the next 9,999 hours will be time well spent.
2. Why not just get a bunch of people together and help each other for free?
I like parts of this argument, too. You could get lucky and find some naturally skilled groupmates who give great advice. I have seen it happen for golfers and for writers. On the other hand, you could end up with a duffer who thinks he knows more about golf than he really does. He might advise you to change your grip only to make your slice worse. Let’s face it, bad advice is worse than no advice at all. The other hazard here is that your golf game could be so much better than your mates’ that they can offer no suggestions for improvement.
If you’ve been with the same group of writers without seeing much growth, you probably know what I’m talking about. As a facilitator of Roundtable critique groups, I can attest to the power of being among writers serious enough about their work to pay for a class and committed enough to meet deadlines and do the hard work of revision.
A third reason is often unspoken, but, I believe, is at the heart of many emerging writers’ reluctance to invest money in writing classes:
3. The chances of making the big time are slim. Why would I spend money when I probably won’t see tangible, financial payback?
Sadly, there is much truth to this. No matter how avid a golfer you are, it isn’t likely you’ll be in the Masters’ Tournament any time soon. Still, golfers are out there every Saturday morning, doing what they love, spending a fair amount of money on it, and not feeling guilty in the least. No one is saying, “Why do you play so much golf? You’ll never make any money at it anyway.”
Why, then, do we apply the same standard to writing? Sure, from any one writing class, it will be difficult to see a direct monetary payoff on investment. But, when you “splurge” on a class, you find your tribe and deeper connections with those who share in your passion. Taken together, what you gain from classes, conferences and critique groups adds up to stronger writing and better chances of publishing, if that’s your goal.
In the end, for many people it comes down to this: How do I honor my desire to become a better writer? Do I really mean that I can’t afford a class or that I don’t feel justified in taking one? If your answer is the latter, I encourage you to reconsider. The call to write is every bit as important as other pursuits, maybe more so. Think of the words that have moved you. Consider the writers who claimed the time and used financial resources to write them for you. Imagine how your words may do the same for your readers one day. Remember, your writing will last much longer than a golf score.
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KIM SUHR is the author of Maybe I’ll Learn: Snapshots of a Novice Mom and director of Red Oak Writing. Her work has appeared at Grey Sparrow Journal, Full of Crow and Foundling Review as well as earning awards from the Wisconsin Writers’ Association’s Jade Ring and Lindemann Humor Contests. You can listen to Kim read her work at WUWM 89.7 on the Lake Effect Program. She holds an MFA from the Solstice program at Pine Manor College where she was the Dennis Lehane Fellow in Fiction. To learn more about her writing, visit kimsuhr.com.
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Be sure to check out the Red Oak learning opportunities available in person at the studio or online.
In a busy world, I have grown to love online classes–taking them and teaching them. There’s a camaraderie that develops in spending time together each week, sharing stories, discussing the work. And there’s inspiration in numbers to tackle that difficult subject or press on with revisions on that stubborn essay. All of this at arms length when life keeps us too busy to steal away for a morning conference, a weekend retreat, or a semester-long course.
Last Saturday, nine women and men over the age of 70 gathered in front of a room at Harwood Place in Wauwatosa to share 
