When Writers Gaggle
Notes on group encounters at a writers conference
When you spend four days in close proximity to 200+ writers, you’re inevitably exposed to a heavy dose of zeitgeist. Fortunately, it isn’t fatal. But watch out for side effects, which include giddiness, fatigue, and lingering exhilaration.
Herewith, some brief observations on what’s going on with writers in general. None of this may surprise you, but at least I’m offering some validation based on a significant sample size.
1. Emerging writers are lonely
Surprise! Many emerging writers admit to feeling lonely, unsupported, and as if they’re writing into a void. Then they get to their first writers’ conference and it hits them that they are not alone in feeling lonely. This dynamic suggests to me that despite all the MFA programs and voluminous writing info online, our society doesn’t offer easy mechanisms for easing writers into communities of like-minded people who offer the support and encouragement that is so often lacking. (That’s reason enough to support, sponsor, and patronize writing conferences.)
2. The publishing industry remains stubbornly opaque
There’s so much emerging writers don’t know about the publishing industry. There’s a huge knowledge base out there, yet also a ton of confusion. Even in the age of Google and ChatGPT, so many misconceptions (and simple lack of understanding) persist. I consistently encountered writers who have no conception of how to progress from a rough draft to a more polished draft to a draft that’s professionally edited, and from there, to evaluate paths to publishing, which are also opaque. By “opaque,” I mean not well understood. At all. Despite everything Jane Friedman and many other experts have done to develop accessible knowledge bases for writers, a tremendous amount of ignorance persists.
Can it be that internet resources, in particular, are not serving emerging and aspiring writers as well as we assume? In-person writers conferences may be a more effective way to share realistic truths about publishing. There’s no substitute for meeting with an expert you can trust and carrying on a conversation that leaves a lasting impression.
3. Literary agents are the most misunderstood of all
Agents are like unicorns—not because they are rare, but because they seem mythological and elusive, their “magic” shrouded in mystery. This, despite all the agents who log hundreds of hours putting in face time at writers conferences. Emerging writers imbue them with special powers they do not possess. Moreover, many writers seem to believe that if they submit to an agent whatever they’ve written, or begun to write, at any stage, an agent will not only review that work, but want to publish it. There is so much magical thinking at work. Again: This is despite all the educating that agents and others do to reflect reality. Read publisher Brooke Warner’s latest reflection on this issue and you’ll see what I mean.
We need to hold and share more honest conversations around agents as literary gatekeepers. Rather than encouraging every single writer to submit to an agent because “you never know,” we should be more honest and direct about how this aspect of the industry works—and avoid giving false hope.
4. Writing and publishing is a slow industry in a world that’s moving fast
It’s hard to convince a writer that their first draft isn’t their last; that time is not the measure of quality when it comes to writing; and that getting published often takes at least as long as the writing itself, if not longer. People want results sooner rather than later. They want to be done, to move on, and to get proof of concept in the form of a published book.
In our hyper-fast hustle culture, we need to educate new writers about the speed (or lack thereof) that still characterizes nearly every aspect of authoring and publishing. Quality takes time to produce. Let’s help writers perceive how this activity differs from almost everything else in the “real” world.
5. Encouragement is fuel
Writers are a needy, insecure bunch, frequently agonizing over their talent, their storytelling choices, and so much more. We need to be encouraged, to feel seen in our work (and our struggle), to know that someone connects with what we’ve written and is moved by it. Given the high quotient of loneliness that comes with this territory, any writer who receives encouragement in real time, in person, is fueled to keep going. That fuel is essential at any point in a writer’s career, but especially early on.
If writers do just one thing for other writers, let it be to offer encouragement and support. Educating writers on how things work is important, but encouraging them to persist in their writing, despite doubts, is essential.
6. Pushing introverts out of their comfort zone is a good thing
I met several self-identifying neurodivergent writers who made a huge effort to socialize and connect with other writers at the conference. I have tremendous respect for individuals for whom conversing with strangers, navigating crowds, and managing social anxiety is challenging and draining—but they show up. Lifelong introverts of all types can benefit from forcing themselves to keep company with scads of writers. Doing so may be difficult, but the upside is you recognize you belong to a community that embraces you as you are—and, crucially, talent is talent, no matter what else is going on inside you, and you’ll be honored for your skills.
To sum up:
If you’ve been avoiding in-person writers’ conferences primarily because you are preemptively intimidated by being among so many of your peers (you fear being judged, not measuring up, averse to crowds, etc.)—that’s exactly why you should go. You’ll find that those concerns pale alongside what you stand to gain.
I met a few people at this conference who keep WRANGLING THE DOUBT MONSTER: FIGHTING FEARS, FINDING INSPIRATION by their bedside table! That’s my book living its best life—and why I wrote it! Don’t let this piece of validation and inspiration slip by you!
And early raves are pouring in for my forthcoming novel, TENT CITY!
“With remarkable insight and wit, Amy L. Bernstein illuminates the slow, agonizing decline of an American town in a sinking economy. At the center of TENT CITY is the King family, headed by a small-time power-couple—a builder and a realtor—who define success as money and chase it with all the grit, bravado, and aggression we associate with American ambition. The Kings are surrounded by a wide cast of townspeople, artfully rendered, who seek different ways to survive and must face different consequences, some tragic. Bernstein’s brilliant work is as thought-provoking as it is heart-wrenching, a must-read for anyone with an ounce of compassion and a brain.”
—A.D. Nauman, Down the Steep