Schneider, Pat. "Introduction: A Writer is Someone Who Writes." Writing Alone and With Others. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003.

"When we write, we create, and when we offer our creation to one another, we close the wound of loneliness and may participate in healing the broken world. Our words, our truth, our imagining, our dreaming, may be the best gifts we have to give" (xix).

"In the 1940s, literature was written by upper-class men, expressing their views of the human experience. I wanted desperately to sound like them so I could make art, too.

But that understanding of art was a lie. Art is not just the province of the privileged. Art belongs to the people. It belongs to those who 'stand here ironing,' t othose who clean city streets, to those who work in front of computer screens, as well as to those who read in the ivy halls. Almost all of us can tell a story to a best friend or lover so powerfully thta we move the other person to sorrow or to laughter, to deep feeling, to what literary critics call 'denouement' " (xx).

"Art is the creative expression of the human spirit, and it cannot -- it must not, for the sake of the human community -- to limited to those few who achieve critical acclaim or financial reward" (xxi).

This speaks well of not only the need to collaborate when we write, but also to support all of the voices and points of view that accompany writing. I think it's difficult to write because we want to much for our work to be "accepted" -- by our friends, by critics, by a reading populace -- and so instead of writing a message in which we truly believe, we work to the satisfaction of others. This is why being a workshop leader can be so difficult -- we can guide in craft, but we must be careful not to impose our own predilections upon budding writers, who still might be struggling to find their voice.

"Genius often emerges where there is intimate support for it ... where there is no intimate support, there is often the driving force of suffering, creating an intense personal isolation, a kind of solitude, out of which the voice of genius arises. Each of us has genius, but we need support, and we can give it to one another as friends or in honest and supportive workshop settings" (xxi).

I've been involved in many types of workshops -- some helpful and fun, some with disinterested leaders, some with people who wanted me to write like they do, and some who thought being cruel would make me aspire to write "better." Only the first type of workshop works with me -- the others just make me doubt my writing, or want to give up altogether.

Elbow, Peter. Foreword. "Writing Alone and With Others." Pat Schneider. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003.

I believe the foreword of this book would also make a great introductory lecture for a creative writing class. Elbow begins with "five essential affirmations" about writing with which I strongly agree:

1. Everyone has a strong, unique voice.
2. Everyone is born with creative genius.
3. Writing as an art form belongs to all people, regardless of economic class or educational level.
4. The teaching of craft can be done without damage to a writer's original voice or artistic self-esteem.
5. A writer is someone who writes (ix-x).

I've never been fond of literary snobbery, or of writers who advocate one style of writing. All of it needs to be out there, and writers should choose their own voices and genres. Even if they go against the grain of what the workshop leader likes or finds to be "good writing," the leader should consider what comes naturally to the writer, including his tastes, voices, and subject matter.

What is interesting is that Elbow then outlines "five essential practices," one of which I'm not sure I advocate:

1. A nonhierarchial spirit (how we treat writing) in the workshop is maintained while at the same time an appropriate discipline (how we interact as a group) keeps writers safe. (This I do agree with; I don't think the teacher has the final word, but should act as a guide and member of the class. This can be difficult for students to understand, as they look to the teacher for the "right" answer, but in creativity there is no right answer, just preferences and inclinations.)

2. Confidentiality about what is written in the workshop is maintained, and the privacy of the writer is protected ... at all times writers are free to refrain from reading their work aloud. (I don't know about this -- shouldn't a writer "own up" to his words? This seems a little overprotective.)

3. Absolutely no criticism, suggestion, or question is directed toward the writer in response to first-draft, just-written work. A thorough critique is offered only when the writer asks for it and distributes work in manuscript form. Critique is balanced; there is as much affirmation as suggestion for change. (I agree with this.)

4. The teaching of craft is taken seriously and is conducted through exerises that invite experimentation and growth as well as thorough response to manuscripts and in private conferences. (I like the idea of private conferences, and hop to do more of them, as soon as my schedule slows down more.)

5. The leader writes along with the participants and reads that work aloud at lest once in each writing session. This practice is absolutely necessary, for only in this way is there equality of risk-taking and mutuality of trust. (I see his point, but I have to admit I don't share much of my work in class as it seems to garner a "look at me the successful writer" quality that I don't think helps the students.)