The Wiplings

the joy and discomfort of giving feedback to writers you admire

November 21st marked the one-year anniversary of my writers’ critique group. To celebrate, we decided we needed a name. After some spirited discussion, we landed on The Wiplings – a nod to the “W.I.P.” (works in progress) that each of us bring to the table every other month, and an obvious (but loving) wink to the legendary Oxford literary group, The Inklings.

I’ll admit, Inklings is the better name. It’s got that crisp, clever wordplay only C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien could casually conjure. But The Wiplings suits us. A little quirky, a little earnest, and firmly rooted in the reality of writing as a process.

Pronounced like Kipling, by the way. Rhymes with whipling, if that were a word.

I even created a little visual symbol for us: a wizard’s hat that also looks like a traffic cone – magic meets construction zone. That’s how writing feels most days. Equal parts spell-casting and shovel work. Writing is difficult magic.

Now, I must confess: as proud as I am to be part of this group, when it comes time to actually give feedback, I sometimes freeze up. Not out of reluctance – out of reverence.

These writers are good. Like really good. I read their submissions with admiration (and, if I’m honest, a healthy dose of imposter syndrome). Their worlds feel real. Their characters breathe. Their sentences sing. And when I try to comment, my notes sound less like critique and more like enthusiastic margin applause: “Beautiful line!” “Loved this!” “Wait – WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!”

They’re inventive, thoughtful, and some of them are already published. Finished books! With covers! In stores! And yet, they read my drafts, too. They treat my unfinished pages with the same care and curiosity I try to show theirs. We’re all still learning, still building, still trying to get it right.

I think that’s what makes it work. None of us are finished. But we’re not writing alone either. We are all works in progress, after all.