Should you join a writer’s club? Let me first accurately define the term. A writer’s club is a group of people who talk about writing without actually writing anything. The list of characters varies, but for the most part, it’s a social club for rich people who want to think of themselves as writers because their lives are otherwise meaningless, and they’re bored. It’s an hour or more of listening to people talk about themselves in grandiose terms.

Does this sound too harsh? Then I’ll continue the beat-down.

I joined such a club a few years ago. The first thing I asked the attendees was if anyone was published or in the process. I wanted to know what they had experienced. I swear I could actually hear the crickets. Then I asked if anyone had an agent? That’s when a woman answered in a quite condescending tone, “This is a writer’s group. We don’t discuss publishing.” The room broke out with subdued laughter. I knew instantly that I was sitting in a room of posers, and for certain, it was a waste of time.

My editor came with me as she was looking for additional work. If not for her, I would have walked out immediately. I expected to find people serious about writing and getting published. What I found was a social club that talked about writing. I found out later that writers don’t join writer’s clubs; they instead spend their time writing. Imagine that.

As not all the members were there, my editor convinced me to attend a second meeting with the group and then a third. Each time it was the same thing. A few people would bring a three-page short story to read, and the group would write comments on the handouts. I can tell you this with no uncertainty; there was a reason why no one was published.

On the fourth and final meeting I attended, a woman who was not present for the first three announced that her manuscript, a historical novel, had been accepted by a publisher. Finally, a writer was present. The immediate response by one member was to tell her that she would have to go on a speaking tour to promote the book. That may not sound so bad, but she missed the previous meetings because she had throat surgery. She could barely speak at the meeting. His comment was a petty putdown of a person sharing a success. That’s when I realized a team of wild horses couldn’t drag me to a fifth meeting.

Mark Twain tells a story of a cat that jumped on a hot stove. It never jumped on a hot stove again. It also never jumped on a cold one. The cat got out of the business of jumping on stoves. It overlearned. It assumed every stove was hot. Perhaps my experience was unique, but something in the back of my mind says not. Though I never attended another meeting, I responded to the group emails and reported on the launches of my books. Not one member ever purchased a book or left a comment, except for one who responded to tell me to delete her from my mailer list.

Writers write, readers read, talkers talk, and bullshit walks. 

To augment my writer’s club experience, I’ll briefly discuss a writer’s workshop I attended. The class was led by a woman who had a degree in theater but had never written a screenplay. In fact, she had never written anything, but she read about writing, knew several people who were authors, and attended college. I know as an engineer that college barely cracks the surface on what you must know to be an engineer. Do engineers need the basics from the classroom? Absolutely they do, but they need to practice their craft. The same goes for a doctor, a lawyer, and yes, a writer.

You must write, get feedback from a professional editor, and repeat the process until it hurts. Unless you want to spend a few hours with miserable wannabees, or have nothing else to do on a Saturday morning, avoid the writer’s clubs and the workshops with unqualified instructors. You’re better off reading a book on writing or how about this idea . . . writing.