Why a Writing Group Might Be the Most Powerful Research System You Build This Year

If you’ve tried writing groups before and felt let down, this post shares what finally made them work for me—and why the right community might be your most powerful research system.

This is the fourth post in my four-part series on systems for scholarship. New here? Here are links to part one, part two, and part three.

Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash

Back in April, a surprise package arrived at my doorstep with my name on it.

Inside: a beautiful teapot and two bags of loose-leaf tea from one of my favorite Baltimore tea houses.

I hadn’t ordered any tea recently, so I searched the box for a receipt and discovered a note that read:

“Congratulations on earning tenure. We’re so proud of you.”

It was from my writing group.

What made this moment so powerful wasn’t just the thoughtfulness—it was the timing. At that point, I hadn’t been regularly attending our weekly co-working sessions for over six months. I was in a stressful, uncertain academic season. My bandwidth was low, and I decided to step back from the group temporarily.

And still, they showed up for me.

I definitely cried, y’all.

Moments like these have confirmed something I’ve come to believe deeply:

The time we spend building a writing community isn’t a detour from research productivity—it’s what makes sustainable writing progress possible.

In academia, we’re often taught to treat community as an afterthought. Something you squeeze in after the real work is done.

But in my experience, writing alongside people who genuinely care about me—and who are equally invested in community and communal care—has transformed the way I approach research, writing, and what we call “productivity.”

Here’s what I mean: one of the silver linings of the early pandemic for me was logging onto Zoom every weekday with a group of women of color scholars. We worked, processed, and adapted to pandemic work life and living together.

And within that group, I found two collaborators who shared my intensity. We didn’t judge each other for working hard, being nerdy, or hunkering down. We didn’t need to justify our ambition or explain our focus. We just got to be our whole selves.

Since then, I’ve led and participated in multiple writing groups. Each one looked a little different. But the ones that worked well all had one thing in common:

They were comprised of scholars who treated the writing community as more than a “nice to have”—they viewed it as a core system in their academic journey.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

You can block off time, fill out the planner, even sign up for the accountability app…

But if you don’t have a group of people who understand what you’re navigating—and who show up with kindness, clarity, and consistency—it’s so much harder to sustain writing momentum.

That’s why the writing communities I facilitate don’t just help people show up to the work.

Rather, they nudge everyone to show up as their whole selves.

We hold space for one another and don’t shy away from offering a resource or a kind word of encouragement that could possibly shift someone’s entire day.

In my current writing group, we begin and end every session with a short check-in. We share goals. We name what we’re carrying.

At the end of each semester, we celebrate both our small and large wins.

Last December, I hosted a virtual white elephant exchange. I also invited folks to participate in an “intentional pour” where each writing group member was invited to write an anonymous note of affirmation to another group member. Not everyone had the capacity to join and that was okay.

But messages shared were generous, moving, and real.

Here’s one someone sent me:

“Brielle has created a safe and welcoming space for WOC academics that not only allows us to come as we are, BUT also shares resources to help us remain inspired, focused, and moving toward our professional goals… I’ve been part of other writing groups but none like this.”

This is what I mean when I talk about showing up.

Not just hosting a thoughtful activity, but creating the conditions for scholars to recognize and reflect on one another’s strengths in a field that often rewards individualism, competitiveness, and isolation.

And that’s why, even while on sabbatical from the group, I made time to host a white elephant exchange and intentional pour.

If you’ve tried writing groups before and they didn't work out, I’m not surprised.

And it’s not your fault.

Most of us haven’t been taught how to structure them in a way that protects energy, builds trust, and actually supports productivity over time.

But it is possible to build a group that works.

And if you’re craving that kind of support—or curious about starting something new—I’ve got you covered.

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🧾 Coming Friday: Build a Writing Group That Works

In this week’s paid subscriber post, I’m sharing:

• A clarity checklist to complete before you start (so you know exactly what to expect and what to offer)

• Two simple practices that prevent ghosting, resentment, or energy drain

• Gentle scripts for handling conflict or misalignment with care

💌 Want the guide? Upgrade to a paid subscriber to receive it.

As a paid subscriber, you’ll also get a special gift if you decide to join my upcoming Show Up As You Are and Write monthly virtual writing retreat.

✨ Retreats will be capped at 11 participants to protect intimacy and connection.

🎟️ Anyone can join the waitlist here and be the first to know when registration opens.

Even if now isn’t the time to build or join a group, I hope you’ll remember this:

You’re not “wasting time” by showing up to write in community. You’re investing in the support system that will anchor you when you need it most.

Until next time,

Brielle aka Your Cooperative Colleague