Grub Street

I had my first class at Grub Street tonight, and I really enjoyed it. It's funny, workshops are so similar to one another, and yet so totally individual. Virtually every workshop I've ever taken has had the same format, and yet the vibe, the relationship between the teacher and the students, and the students with each other (or maybe I should say in this class, the participants and the leader, since we're all on closer to even footing) is so personal, so unique. I must admit, I'm impressed ot the point of being a little intimidated by some of the other writers. They just seem like naturals, like people who know the whole format of how to do a workshop, and how to assemble a story, or at least an exercise that feels like a story, on the spot, without much coaching or prompting.
I'm remembering how exciting and terrifying it is to pass out a story I've written, something that I think is a good representation of what I can do, the perspective I bring to the literary world, to a room full of near strangers and the sit silently while you listen to what there people think of it, other people who are your peers or perhaps competitors.
The workshops I took at Reed, or at least with Hillis, and this wasn't really his fault, were combative to the point of being ridiculous. There weren't two competing sides or teams, but
there were definitely people who were out to savage my stuff with their critiques, and people who were out to savage the critiquers not because they liked me, but because they hated them.
I really don't think this experience will anywhere near so charged, but I still wonder what they'll say.
I want to impress them, but on the other hand, I want to hear what they have to say, I want to get honest criticism that will help me improve. It's the old balance between going out on a limb, and excelling at what you do well, between taking a risk for the experience of really testing the limits of what you do, and in taking a risk for the sake of taking a risk, for fear of being labeled safe.
I've seen too many reality competition shows! Every time I watch Top Chef (or, to a lesser extent, Project Runway), I picture a writer's version of it, where the shitty writers get eliminated first.