What My Friends Have Taught Me About Writing
The Power of Community in a Writer's Solitary Journey
Many consider writing, generally speaking, to be a loner's profession. You sit alone. You think alone. You write alone. What those who think about writing do not tell you is the significance and power of community in a profession so centered around loneliness. This article addresses the significance of community and how to spot a community-oriented writer who would make a supportive friend.
Before I start, the first thing I want to do is define community.
A community of writers is one in which writers support one another by sending supportive messages and demonstrating that support in physical and online spaces. Messages saying things like "Good luck!" can make all the difference when you are putting yourself out there and submitting to a magazine that is statistically more likely to reject you than accept you.
When you are in a community of writers, remember that "Good luck" carries much more weight than silence and that "Good luck" can make all the difference in the mood of a writer about to hit the submit button.
Having talked about the importance of community, the next question I am going to address is what that community looks like.
I have said earlier in this article that community is emotionally supportive. I am going to add the word "empathetic" to this discussion for the following reason: I have been in literary groups where there is only reciprocation or where the only accepted activity is listening. As a result, only some of the people in the room are heard.
This kind of behavior—which I will call expected listening—conditions some of the writers in the room to think their contributions should not be verbalized and conditions other writers to overshare. Look for groups that prioritize equal sharing and recommend those groups to newer writers looking for community.
The importance of community cannot be overstated. Our literary world is rife with issues related to socialization—namely, that it systematically ignores writers who may be shyer or writers who may be conditioned, due to social and political factors, not to speak. Instead of using tactics that may make them feel welcome (i.e., calling on minorities at academic conventions), we casually pass over those writers and do nothing when other, more privileged writers feel freer to speak.
In peer advocacy, we call the practice of speaking when you are not called on to speak "cross talk."
When you spot "cross talk," you are encouraged to disallow it or clearly articulate the problem surrounding "cross talk"—namely, that it systematically praises those who speak the loudest. "Cross talk" is an epidemic in the literary community, one we have not taken the time to research or understand. It is only through its careful dismantling that we can make a safer and more enjoyable space.