I had a revelation this past year: artists take classes all their lives.
Dancers are always in class. Painters still drop into life drawing sessions. Musicians take masterclasses and attend rehearsals. If you’re an artist, you’re always learning and working on your craft, testing the boundaries of your limits and gently expanding them.
But I think there’s often an expectation that classes for writers are for beginners. That once you achieve a certain level of professionalism, or craft confidence, you simply write on your own. You might have a critique group, or a couple of trusted beta readers, but there is no expectation that writers receive formal instruction after they achieve a certain level.
But I think that might be a mistake, at least for some writers.
This past year, partly to relieve the stress and anxiety of being trapped inside and partly because I missed writing communities so much, I took a bunch of online classes, some pre-recorded but most of them live, run by an instructor. While some classes definitely fell into the category of covering basics I was already confident in, many opened up new avenues for me, prompted story ideas, gave me new tools for storytelling and story generation. I grew more aware of my weaknesses and more able to create a self-study program designed to strengthen my shortcomings.
So that’s why we started The Story Kitchen, so we can examine the ingredients of story and practice our craft in a formal, systematic, but playful and open-ended way, like in cooking! There will be content here that is for beginners, because we all start somewhere. There will also be content here for emerging professional writers, and for experienced writers. Because learning never ends and a formal practice of instruction can be a valuable part of maintaining your creative spark, honing your skills, and opening you up to new explorations you didn’t access in your writing before.
Lots of writers have said this, but it bears repeating: there is no one right way to write. Just like there is no one right way to cook. But searing a cabbage has a very different effect on the vegetable to boiling it, and adding miso has a very different impact on the palate versus adding vinegar. Both great! But different! So we thought, this could be applied to writing, too. Understand the ingredients you’re working with, understand the techniques of handling those ingredients, and then you’ll understand what dishes you’re putting together and how the flavors will blend or contrast, and you’ll become a much more confident chef — er, writer — with a great range. Plus it’s fun to play!
(I just made myself hungry. This is a thing that happens a lot, because I write about food a lot? Literally and metaphorically?)
If this sounds interesting to you, sign up for our newsletter below! Our first one goes out today, and it’s one of the main ways we’ll deliver notes on writing craft, advice, tips, and writing prompts. We also include what I started calling an Unrecipe because they’re about techniques, not recipes, as well as writer quotes, links to books we like, and other fun tidbits. Join us!
Happy writing!
-Jane