Coming Together Across the Table (or on Zoom)

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by Sandra Kacher, from March 2021

 

It takes courage to write, courage to reveal, and courage to hear what people have to say about your words. Brené Brown says, “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.”

A poetry writing group is the perfect place to practice this courage.

When I was in my 40s, I promised myself I would write a mystery novel by the time I was 50. I did, but it didn’t go anywhere because the first time I heard the faintest criticism I shut down. Extreme, I know, but some of us are timid and way too vulnerable to other people’s opinions. When I picked up a pen again it was to write poetry, and I knew I had to toughen up if I was going to create anything worthwhile. 

I’ve heard people say, in response to change suggestions, “Well, I just write for myself.” I don’t understand why a person would write (or paint, or cook, or garden, etc.) just for themselves. I see creativity as a gift meant to be shared, and creations benefit from honest and compassionate responses from our peers.

Thus, the poetry writing group. Such a group is comprised of a small number (3–8?) of poets who come together regularly to read their work to each other and listen to the responses elicited by that work. My first rule for finding a group is “pick carefully.” I’ve been in competitive poetry groups where the feedback is harsh in the name of “just being honest.” I’ve also been in groups where the level of commitment and experience is less than mine. It has been important for me to find groups with the right level of skill (so I can trust their insight) and also with the right level of love. Love for poetry, love for the process, love for daring to believe we (I) have something to say in poetic form. I don’t have to be best friends with everyone, but I do need to trust that their intention is to be genuinely helpful.

I’m now in several writing groups and I’ve asked my writing buddies to share why they keep coming and keep working so hard.

Here is a summary of their responses:

Accountability: “Having to bring a poem on a predictable and regular basis heightens my commitment. It helps me keep going through the dry times.”

Quality Enhancement: “The others in a workshop often notice things (both positive and negative) in the poem that I have not and offer solid ideas to improve the poem.”

Networking, Identity, and Belonging: “I enjoy being with my tribe . . . others who share my interest in poetry . . . and often other important values. Others offer ideas [regarding] prompts, craft, readings, workshops, teachers, books, submission calls that enrich my writing life.”

Fun: “In addition to everything else, a sweet relationship with smart, perceptive, funny, beautiful women; one that deepens every encounter.”

How do we create such communities? I started with going to poetry meet-ups in my community (after procrastinating for several months. It does take courage!) and met several poets with whom I am now in groups. One group started with two of us who shared a love of San Miguel de Allende and Spanish, along with writing. We each invited others to join us. That group now has five wonderful women (a deliberate choice) who have been meeting and improving for several years. One of my groups grew out of a shared class—a common way to find compatible members. Two of us also tuned into Billy Collins’ podcasts and responded to a group of male poets who were looking for women to balance things out. 

We began with ground rules for listening and responding. We found that starting with sharing “the gold” we hear and finishing with a round of “rust” creates a balanced atmosphere and allows for building trust to hear critiques. In that same group we begin with a SPIRE check-in—how am I Spiritually, Physically, Intellectually, Relationally, and Emotionally? We aren’t rigid but we do cover those areas, and through this kind of check-in, we’ve come to admire, understand, and love each other. Another group I’m in is purely reading and critiquing, equally useful for improving our work but less warm and personal (however, I’ve found sharing poetry can’t help but lead to personal connection). The degree of personal sharing depends on the desires of members. It seems to me it takes at least six months, more like a year, to get into a really good groove together.

I am a better poet than I was three years ago, and I thank my group members for that. I encourage anyone who wants to be a better writer to find a tribe of writers and plunge in!


Sandra Kacher comes to writing poetry after years of hearing about the inner lives of hundreds of therapy clients. She brings the same compassion and sense of irony to her poetry as she brought to listening to hundreds of therapy clients. Touched by Mary Oliver and heartened by Billy Collins, she brings a heart for beauty and an ear for music to her writing. She hopes poetry shares the ways she is moved by nature, human life, and all the flotsam that catches her eye. As an older poet, she is shaped daily by intimations of mortality, and most of her work is touched by loss—past or to come. Poetry keeps her open, fights off cynicism in a world that leaves her listless these days.

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