WRITE ANYWAY
A workshop with Janelle Hanchett
March 7 – April 11, 2026
Saturday workshops online at 9am-10:15am PST/12pm-1:15pm EST
Learn to write without giving a shit what people think.
And if that doesn’t work, learn to write even though you’re terrified of what people think. That’s what I do, and I can tell you about it. I can also tell you about using your voice, writing the truth as you see it, valid criticism and that which should be immediately ignored, trolls, and backward internet logic (intimately related to not giving a shit, I assure you).
I cannot tell you about gimmicks or tricks or how to “overcome fear” as if it’s a single enemy to be fought — once brandished, disappearing forever — but I can tell you what I’ve learned about fear, how to not use it as an editor. In doing so, perhaps together we can learn to abandon some of the nonsense that’s blocking you in your writing, or making it boring, or leaving you feeling unsatisfied, or causing stress and anxiety and angst because the bastards just won’t leave you alone and what if your mother reads this?
But in this world, when the stakes feel so high, with AI usurping reality, politicians and their media foot soldiers doing their damndest to get in on that narrative-manipulation game — with the screaming hordes on social media running around echo chambers of their own 30-second hot takes — well, how exactly does a sane person add one single word of authenticity, nuance, or even value?
What’s the point of speaking at all? Does it make a difference? How? When. Where.
These are the things we will discuss. To be clear, this is not a workshop on politics. This is not a divisive place. But it’s silly to talk about using one’s voice without addressing the context in which we are speaking. It’s a weird, weird world; let’s not pretend it isn’t. But I truly believe there is a place for truth-seekers and truth-speakers. And many, many artists to show us the way, remind us why, as Toni Morrison said, “This is precisely the time when artists get to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear.” So let’s try to get there, no?
Ultimately, I will argue there is incredible power in writing anyway, despite it all, or perhaps, because of it all.
The story (how it is that I can teach this)
I started Renegade Mothering in January 2011. For the first two years, I had maybe a hundred visitors a month. I believe this is because I have a ton of cousins, many of whom think I’m funny. Or a train wreck. Either way, amusing enough to read.
I wrote twice a week, no matter what, because I thought that sounded like a good number, and I wrote whatever I wanted. I wrote some really bad stuff, and some good. I promised myself I would write when I felt “the need,” but if the need didn’t come up twice a week, I forced myself to write. No gimmicks. No business talent to speak of. Nothing beyond writing a post and sharing it on Facebook and Twitter, back when both actually showed content to people who followed you. Ah, the good ol’ days.
After I wrote a post I’d call my mom and ask, “Did you read it?” And she’d say “Yeah! You’re funny!” and I’d smile and feel satisfied, thinking, “Cool. My mom thinks I’m funny.”
Then I’d write again.
I finally found a way to make my master’s degree in English worth something. Sort of.
When I started, I had a clear purpose, direction, and reason for writing: I wanted to know if other mothers felt like I did. I could not find anybody writing or saying what I saw, felt, lived. So I decided I was going to write the truth of my existence – however raw, ugly, embarrassing, contradictory or weird that may be – simply to determine if the rest of the parenting world was crazy or I was.
This question wasn’t particularly deep and or noble, but it was real, and it was me. It was my story. It was the thing deep in my gut that kept nagging and wondering.
The results blew my mind.
I found thousands of other women feeling like I did. People still send me messages saying “I thought I was alone feeling this way,” and “I’ve spent my whole life as a parent hiding this part of me.” Some people suggested they wanted to kill me in my sleep, but hey. Ya can’t win them all.
I gained a sense of purpose and meaning, which sounds like a B-rate self-help workshop, but I really did, for a creative practice infused into a life without one, born out of an innate curiosity and desire, is one of the few places, I would argue, where life really does take on a new meaning and purpose. Art is powerful. Writing is powerful. Insisting on something more than the cogmoneyworkdie life is powerful.
I even quit my day job. A community grew, way bigger than me, beyond me completely.
That blog I created one night for free on WordPress at 11 at nigh while sitting on a couch surrounded by laundry grew to over 85,000 followers. Not a lot in the grand scheme, but enough to build a career. I’ve had my writing in magazines and well-known websites. Pink once tweeted about me (all life will be downhill from here, don’t you think?). I’ve been on podcasts and radio shows. I get to read my work and speak at conferences. I wrote a book and somebody published it.
This surprises me as much as anybody, and I’m not entirely sure how it’s happened, though I believe I owe it, at least in part, to the following:
- I have learned to differentiate between the truth and bullshit (and bullshit masquerading as truth);
- I have never wavered from my initial driving question; and
- I learned to write for the meaning and internal benefits the act gave me, not to acquire a certain outcome. I got better and better at not expecting any outcome, in fact.
But mostly, I didn’t stop writing.
I wrote anyway. Over and over again. Until interesting things started to happen.
I called my first post “Playdate in my trailer” because it was the first image that came to mind.
Lo and behold, I figured out a few things and I can show you.
I was pretty much a failure at life (and not in a cute way), but I’ve faced that failure completely, and in doing so I’ve found a freedom to just be a human being and write like one, as if the world didn’t exist “out there.”
And I can tell you what that’s looked like.
There’s no silver bullet. There’s no methodology that makes change or new things happen. There’s no comfortable way to accomplish anything, as far as I can tell. But there is process, and we can sure as hell learn from others, and I’m pretty sure you and I can learn from each other.
You already know how to write.
You write all the time.
The problem is not that you don’t know how to write.
The problem is that you’re too afraid to write what you know you’re meant to be writing.
That’s where this workshop comes in.
Here it is:
A 6-week, intimate (12 spots), online writing workshop for the person who:
- has a nagging question or persistent feeling of “You should write this,” but isn’t;
- can’t decide what to write about;
- constantly hears the “you suck why are you even trying?” voice when she sits down to write;
- is too afraid to write what they’re really feeling/thinking/experiencing;
- is agonizing over what people will think;
- is terrified of the horribly divisive world we live in, the utter lack of nuance, and name-calling habits of people even “on our side;”
- is obsessing over perfection; and/or
- getting bent out of shape for three days over assholes on the internet criticizing in ways that hurt (and somehow they always hit where it hurts). Insulting intelligence. Name-calling. Making fun. Crafting Reddit threads against you. Being generally distasteful and/or pontificating about what you would be doing if you were a better person. Perhaps I have a bit of experience with these.
Find your voice. Learn not to detach from outcomes. Ignore the external voices.
Or, just write anyway.
Details:
Dates:
March 7 – April 11, 2026
Saturday workshops online at 9am-10:15am PST/12pm-1:15pm EST
Class includes:
- One weekly group video conference at 60-75 minutes each (these will be recorded so no worries if you miss one)
- Weekly writing prompts
- My feedback on three prompt responses of your choosing
- Weekly feedback on your writing from fellow workshop participants (this is guided by me so it’s safe and comfortable). If you prefer people not comment on your writing, that’s easy to make happen as well
- Access to a private Facebook page of like-minded writers (obviously, since we’re all here) where you can receive support, feedback on your writing, bitch, whine, howl, etc.
Class Outline:
- Week 1: What is the thing you’re not writing? (Discovering a story you have to tell)
- Week 2: What’s keeping you from it?
- Week 3: How to care less about what others think and more about what you think
- Week 4: How to write even though we will always be a little scared
- Week 5: What is “authenticity” and how does one accomplish this in a world of algorithms, AI, and screaming political division?
- Week 6: Creating a sustainable writing practice in the reality of your life (not some instagram dream world of “creatives”)
At the end of this course, you will have:
- 6 pieces of writing that you can publish, pitch, combine or turn into larger pieces
- a stronger sense of direction and purpose in your writing
- clarity on what it is you want to write, and your interests as a writer
- a new way of looking at fear
- a “plan” for keeping your writing practice going past the workshop
- an understanding of some old philosophical concepts that really, really help us cut through the bullshit of today (online, in politics, in work, in life)
- ability to differentiate between criticism that should be ignored vs. integrated into future work
- tools to get over the demons blocking you (the “don’t even bother you suck” voice and all the other helpful things we tell ourselves)
- a supportive network of other writers
- my honest and professional (I do have an MA in English, after all) feedback on three prompt responses of your choosing
Let’s do this.
I’m excited meet you, work with you, write with you.
I found this a year after I named my workshop “write anyway,” which basically means I am Junot Diaz.
Write Anyway, Option 1: €349
Write Anyway, Option 2: €439 — All the above plus a 1-hour video conference with me to discuss whatever writing-related questions you have, and make a plan to keep you going.
Note: You can pay for the class in 2-3 installments. Email me to set this up.
REFUND POLICY: I can offer a full refund up to and including February 7, 2026. Between February 8, 2026, and February 24, 2026 I can offer 50%. After February 24, 2026, I cannot offer refunds. By signing up for this workshop, you agree to this refund policy. I also cannot guarantee workshop transfers or credits. Thank you!
