Writing to Listen: From Being a Young Writer to a Summer Workshop Leader

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Last week, I spent time revisiting a formative place for my development as a writer—the John Carroll University Young Writers Workshop. Founded in 2010 by my father, Philip Metres, the Young Writers Workshop is a place for high school students to explore creative writing and workshopping in a college setting. Much to the delight of my parents, I had a passion for writing from a young age, making it a perfect fit for me when I got older. In 2019, I was a Young Writers Workshop participant for the first time, along with one of my cousins who came down from Vermont to share in the experience. We had so much fun together that year, and I couldn’t wait to go back and do it again the next year.

My cousin Naomi and I enjoyed the sunset at Edgewater Park after the conclusion of our first Young Writers Workshop together.

Looking back at my writing from the first year I spent as a participant, it’s pretty horrible. I mean, there are lines where I got something right. Some of my premises weren’t bad, even though the execution fell short. But there is one thing that I’m really proud of from that first year: a paragraph from the end of the week about why I write.

“I fear that the world, in our culture, doesn’t want to listen. Not to what really matters. I fear that people only listen when they’re hearing something they want to hear. Our culture doesn’t listen to the wind ruffling the tree branches, or the person who’s muffling their tears in the bathroom. Our culture doesn’t listen to the sound of a mourning dove, cooing into the sunrise, or a person breathing out their last breath. But in writing, I find a way to listen to the unhearable. I hear the sound of my pen writing a story, and I want to know what my story is. I want to listen.”

My first Young Writers Workshop group in 2019 helped me discover just how much I loved writing.

There was going to be much more writing in my life after this. And even though I had a long way to go before my writing started to take its current form, I now had a purpose. I wanted to use writing as a way to listen.

Over the years, I went to other Young Writers Workshops at Denison University and Kenyon College. I got to make friends with young writers from different states and work with other renowned poets and authors. But there was something special about the Young Writers Workshop at JCU.

Every year during JCU Young Writers Workshop week, I found myself fighting the urge to cry. I cried because I was scared to share my work in front of others. I cried because I was in awe of the amazing writers around me. I cried because I felt like these people saw and understood me in a way that I had never been seen or understood before. 

Dave Lucas, the poetry instructor for the program, once said, “It’s not that poets have something particular to say. It’s that poets want to say something that you already know in a way that makes you say ‘yeah.’” That was how I felt. Just a series of “yeah”s over and over, all through the week, year after year.

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It felt so special to get my own counselor nametag for JCU Young Writers Workshop this year!

When my dad brought up the idea of me being a small group workshop leader after I aged out of the program, my answer was immediate. I wanted to bring the beautiful and formative experience that I had as a teenager to a new group of writers. This program had been a part of my life for the last six years, and I couldn’t imagine not having that special week in my summer. I was all in.

However, my biggest fear going into the week was that I would have a group of kids who didn’t talk much. This is something that can really dampen the experience in a workshop for a participant, and also makes the job of facilitating the workshop a lot more difficult. And unfortunately, it’s not totally unexpected for a group of young writers, who are most likely introverted and may not have a lot of experience sharing their work and getting feedback in a group setting.

I had no reason to be afraid. From day one, my group jumped in head-first, sharing their work with bravery and authenticity, and responding to each other’s with equal awe and support. That first day after the workshop, I immediately went to my dad and told him, “My kids are really good.” In some ways, it was exactly how I expected it would feel to be a workshop leader. In others, I was blown away by how often I could simply let the workshop just happen in front of me, only needing to interject occasionally to direct the conversation or provide my own input.

I have so much to be grateful for about this program. The community it has provided for me has made such a difference in my life. But it has also guided me to some of the things that mean most in my life. Participating in workshops like this has solidified my love for creative writing. It has inspired me to major in English. It has led me to learn what kind of life I want to create for myself. And if I can help pass that clarity and experience on to another young writer, it would make me so proud. We could use more people who write in our world. We could use more people who listen.

The staff of the JCU Young Writers Workshop 2025 gathered for a group photo on our last day working together.

The John Carroll University Young Writers Workshop is a one-week summer program open to high school students looking to expand their creative writing skills. For more information and to apply, visit their website.