Writing retreats and seminars make me uneasy. I’ve never attended one, mostly because the prices tend to run so high, and that’s part of what makes me so uneasy about them. Yes, writing is a business, and yes, the author deserves to be paid, but paid for what exactly? For telling stories, or for telling other people how to tell stories?
There’s an unfortunate tendency in the writing world, especially the SF&F corner of the writing world, for us to elevate authors to a quasi-godlike status and take them as a definitive final authority on the field. Certainly, when Brandon Sanderson or Orson Scott Card gives an opinion, I give it more weight than an anonymous handle on a message board somewhere. At the same time, though, an opinion is just an opinion, no matter where it comes from.
You don’t have to shell out a lot of money to learn the craft of writing. There are lots of excellent books on the subject, as well as online communities, videos on Youtube–I think all of Brandon Sanderson’s lectures from his English 318R class at BYU are now up on Youtube. More importantly, there’s no one stopping you from sitting down in front of a computer (or setting out a pen and paper) and learning from doing it yourself. So why do we need all these huge, expensive retreats and seminars?
Perhaps my view on this subject is different because I’m an indie writer. One of the great things about self-publishing is that it tears down the walls, throws open the gates, and levels the playing field for everyone. Since we all can be authors now, the pedestals are a lot shorter. The old authorities are no longer quite so definitive, because there’s so much room for experimentation in this new marketplace.
In the indie writing community, there’s a very strong ethic of sharing. Hugh Howey is probably the biggest example of this. He repeatedly goes out of his way to help his fellow writers, putting together the Author Earnings Report and being very generous in sharing everything he’s learned. He’s also very modest about it, constantly putting other, lesser-known authors forward as much better writers than he is. Instead of capitalizing on his knowledge by creating artificial scarcity, he puts it all out there on his blog and the internet communities where he participates.
Of course, retreats and seminars are just as useful for the networking opportunities as they are for the actual instruction. The thing is, just how useful is that networking really? The market is open–we all have access to readers now. The gatekeepers no longer have the power to make or break anyone’s career. And if you’re in the business of writing and telling stories, what better way to network is there than doing exactly that? Sure, it can boost your career to be on a first-name basis with a successful author/editor, but if you don’t also have the writing chops to back that up, it’s not going to do you much good.
I don’t want to call in doubt the motivations of those authors who do put on retreats and seminars. I think that for the most part, their motives are pure. But the structure is one of artificial scarcity that props up this legacy model of gatekeepers and pedestals. It makes me uneasy, because it grants too much of an air of solemnity and authority in a field where the brightest new voices are often self-taught.
Perhaps the thing that makes me most uneasy about these retreats and seminars is the fact that I’ve received so much bad writing advice over the years. To the extent that I have succeeded at all, it has been in spite of the advice I’ve received, not because of it. When I see people turning around and selling their advice for top dollar, it makes me very uneasy, regardless of their motivation in doing it.
I never want to participate as an instructor in expensive retreats or seminars. I don’t feel comfortable supporting that sort of thing. If I ever do get to the point where people would pay to hear me pontificate, I’m going to be very careful not to put myself out there as a definitive authority, since I’m sure any of my advice will be just as harmful to the wrong person as it is helpful to the right person. As for networking, I’d much rather do that through collaborating, reviewing, guest blogging, and putting anthologies together.
I’ve always wondered a lot about why they cost so much and are so popular as well. I suppose a lot of people do like how a retreat or seminar makes it easy to get away from regular life and focus on just writing, but it also seems like you could do that yourself if you just set aside the time and gathered the right resources. It seems the only thing you get at these events that you wouldn’t get elsewhere is some personal time to get answers and critiques from the authors running the event, but then we’re right back to the pedestal issue you’ve been discussing.
Disclaimer: i have never, nor probably ever will, go on a retreat.
I think the value of a writing retreat would be the same as Brandons 318 class… And that, for me, was not the lecture. It was a structured environment that forced me to write regularly, to be thinking and talking about my craft, and to get feedback from others, both Brandon AND my writing group.
You can get ripped on your own, without a gym membership, a weightlifting class, or a personal trainer. But certainly not everybody has the discipline or knowledge or time to develop good exercise habits and find out how to do it correctly tailored to their own health, goals, weak spots, etc.
So I think for some people there’s value in a retreat. It’s not necessary, for sure. But it could be the right kick start for some.
Plus, if nothing else, its fun to travel and physically getaway with others who share your interests.
That’s true–there is something to say for the external structure that a writing retreat puts on you. For people with careers, families, and other obligations that make writing an intermittent hobby, that can be very valuable, as well as the chance to hang out with other like-minded people. Also, depending on where the retreat is, it can be a chance for a fun adventure. I can definitely see that, but for people who are pursuing writing as a career, I don’t think the benefits outweigh the incredibly high costs for most of these things.