Over the years, I’ve met so many writers who stopped writing for months (or even years) not because they didn’t care anymore, but because of what happened in a workshop. Sometimes it was one awful night of careless comments. More often, it was the slow accumulation of feedback that didn’t quite land. Either way, the result was the same: a bruise that never fully healed.
And I get it. Workshops can be wonderful. Every once in a while you stumble into a magical group where the chemistry works, the feedback is thoughtful, and the support is genuine. But more often than not, the traditional workshop model lets writers down and sometimes it does real harm.
Why Traditional Workshops Miss the Mark
Let’s start with the basics. Most workshops drop you into a room (or Zoom) with total strangers. Everyone comes with different goals, different levels of experience, and often no training in how to give constructive feedback. Even with the best intentions, someone who writes horror probably isn’t equipped to give a romance writer the kind of feedback she truly needs.
And then there’s the structure itself: you’re expected to critique work you may not care about, while others do the same to yours. That’s time and energy you could be investing in your own writing. The community piece, while nice in the moment, usually fizzles out when the workshop ends. People drift, support evaporates, and you’re left back at your desk alone.
Worse still, workshops aren’t always safe spaces. The model was built decades ago for a narrow slice of writers – mainly young, white, academically minded men. For anyone outside that mold, the environment can leave you feeling invisible or dismissed, as if your stories don’t count as “serious” or “universal” enough to matter. And here’s the thing: even for those the model was originally built to serve, it’s limiting. All writers, every single one of us, gain more creatively, professionally, and personally when they’re in spaces that welcome a broader range of voices.
What Writers Actually Need
Most writers don’t need twelve half-baked opinions on their pages. What they need is professional feedback – specific, thoughtful notes from someone who understands their genre and their goals. Notes that respect the stage of the project, that honor the writer’s voice, that help the story grow instead of tearing it down.
Writers also need consistency. A space to return to week after week. A community where they feel safe to experiment, safe to stumble, safe to keep going.
And above all, they need to feel seen. Seen not just as someone who’s “being workshopped,” but as a writer in process.
Feedback Should Fuel, Not Wound
The best feedback doesn’t send you spiraling. It sends you back to the page with energy. It points out what’s working, where you can lean in more, and where you might sharpen. It aligns with your goals for the story instead of imposing someone else’s vision on it.
Too often, workshop feedback feels like judgment. It’s vague (“I just didn’t connect with the character”) or unnecessarily harsh (“This doesn’t work at all”). Without context or empathy, even well-meant notes can leave a writer second-guessing every choice.
But in the right hands, feedback becomes fuel. It builds clarity and momentum. It reminds you that you’re capable of finishing the story you’ve started.
Why Community Matters More Than Critique
Yes, feedback matters. But without context, it can derail a project faster than it helps. What writers truly thrive on is community, people who know their voice, who’ve watched their work evolve, who can reflect patterns over time and encourage growth without shame.
In a healthy community, feedback isn’t random. It’s calibrated. It’s honest and encouraging, grounded in a shared understanding of what the writer is trying to do. And because it comes from people invested in your voice, you begin to trust your own instincts more deeply.
Time to Rethink the Writing Space
The workshop model isn’t evil. It’s just outdated. It was built for another time, under narrower definitions of who gets to call themselves a writer. We’re not living in that time anymore.
Imagine instead a space where you don’t have to perform, where you can write alongside others, get professional guidance when you’re ready, and never feel pressured to rip apart someone else’s work just to earn your seat.
That’s the kind of community I believe in. It’s the kind of space I’m helping to build.
Find a Space That Honors Your Voice
If you’ve ever left a workshop feeling smaller than when you arrived, you’re not alone. Writing is hard enough without the added weight of careless critique. You deserve a space that nurtures your voice, that gives you feedback when you’re ready, and that sustains your energy instead of draining it.
Curious what that feels like in practice? Come join the Sit Write Here Mindful Writing Community. Try it for ten days, see how it lands. You may find it’s exactly the kind of writing space you’ve been needing all along.
Leave a Reply