I haven’t been in a writing workshop since college

I did it then because it seemed like an easy grade

I haven’t been in a writing workshop since college. I did it then because it seemed like an easy grade, plus I was writing poetry anyway in my free time so why not do it for a class?

At the first workshop meeting we went around the table and introduced ourselves and the girl sitting across from me, so prim and pretty and self confident, said she had signed up for the workshop to help fulfill the requirements to get a writing certificate. I didn’t know what a writing certificate was, but in that moment I decided that I wanted one for myself. If she can do it, I can do it too.

There was a familiar face in my workshop, Alexis. She was my coworker at Whole Foods, and we were already friendly with each other. We were both cashiers who worked 30 hours per week, lived in South Philly (me with my family, she with a bunch of roommates), and rode our bikes to school. One of the first times we talked was during an early morning shift, we had both opened. She had come from a party on no sleep and forgot to bring her apron with her name tag, she had to borrow one from an unlocked locker upstairs. I thought she was so cool.

We became actual friends quickly, perhaps partly because of the workshop. We saw things similarly, and we had a similar approach to reading and critiquing the poetry of our classmates in the workshop. We would sit next to each other and if Alexis critiqued first I would build off what she had just said, and vice versa, depending on if we were going clockwise or counterclockwise. We didn’t do this on purpose, we just had a tendency to pick up on the same things.

I liked the workshop. I liked that it was all about writing and putting together a collection to be shared with the class. I wanted my collection to be good, different, subversive. I wrote a cryptic poem about what I thought it would be like to kiss a girl with a tongue ring. I incorporated collage and my own drawings in the design of the collection. There were references to Bright Eyes song lyrics. My mom used the photocopier at her job to make copies of my collection for the class.

The class gave me confidence. Our instructor, Conna Clark, made me feel like I could be a writer. The workshop showed me that I could be a writer and publish my poems by doing it myself, and it made me think more critically about the literature I read and my own writing. I actually liked Clark’s poetry workshop so much that I took it a second time. With all this in mind, I don’t know why after college I had been resistant to joining new writing workshops. Maybe the cost was a factor, and maybe later there was a defensiveness in not wanting my work to be picked apart after enduring a relationship with an abusive male poet in which my work was mocked and derided.

I’m doing it now. I did some website work for Colleen McKee and in trade she offered me a discount on her women’s poetry workshop. I’m happy I accepted. The workshop is giving me confidence again, and it’s inspiring me to read and write more.