Strong fiction lives in specific details — the way a character fidgets during a conversation, or how a setting reveals mood before a single line of dialogue. Amanda's extensive editing experience sharpens her eye for what makes a scene land versus fall flat, and she walks writers through revision techniques like cutting passive voice, tightening pacing, and building tension across a narrative arc.

Crafting a short story that actually works requires more than a good idea — it's about controlling point of view, pacing scenes, and knowing when dialogue carries more weight than description. Lesleigh writes fiction herself and brings her graduate-level understanding of narrative structure to workshops on everything from character development to revision strategy.

Thirty years of writing fiction — with poems and stories published across multiple magazines and journals — means Mati can talk craft at a granular level: dialogue that reveals character, pacing that sustains tension, point-of-view choices that shape an entire narrative. She treats each student's draft as a real piece of writing worth developing, not just a classroom assignment.

Crafting fiction means making dozens of invisible choices — point of view, pacing, when to reveal information, how dialogue sounds on the page. Saniya's English studies at Rhodes College included creative work alongside literary analysis, giving her both a writer's instinct and a reader's critical eye. She tackles elements like scene construction and character voice to move stories from rough concept to polished draft.

Craft is what separates a story that works from one that doesn't — dialogue that reveals character, pacing that builds tension, a point of view chosen for a reason. Peter's own writing practice spans years, and his journalism training instilled a ruthless editing instinct that he now applies to workshopping student fiction, zeroing in on where a draft loses momentum and why.

Fiction lives or dies on specificity — the right sensory detail, a line of dialogue that reveals character, a scene structured to create tension. Emmanuel digs into craft elements like point of view, pacing, and narrative voice, giving writers concrete tools to revise their drafts rather than vague encouragement to "make it better."

As someone who writes across multiple genres — from creative pieces to essays to editorial work — Hanlu understands how to shape raw ideas into stories with momentum and voice. She tackles the specific craft decisions that trip up newer fiction writers, like when to stay in a character's head versus pulling back, or how to end a scene before it overstays its welcome. Her international relations studies at Washington University also give her a knack for building fictional worlds with layered, believable stakes.

Crafting fiction means making dozens of invisible choices — point of view, pacing, when to reveal and when to withhold — and most beginning writers don't realize they're making them. Dakota brings a reader's analytical eye honed through graduate-level literary study to the craft side, showing students how techniques they admire in published fiction can be reverse-engineered and applied to their own stories. She's especially strong on dialogue, scene structure, and narrative voice.

Turning an idea into a working piece of fiction means learning to control point of view, pacing, and dialogue — technical choices that most beginning writers make instinctively and inconsistently. Kahini majored in English at Brown and brings a reader's precision to the craft, breaking down why a scene falls flat or how shifting from summary to scene can transform a story's emotional impact.

Crafting believable characters starts with understanding what motivates them — and Sarah's background in music, philosophy, and theology gives her an unusual depth when it comes to teaching narrative voice, dialogue, and emotional arc. She treats fiction drafts the way a composer treats a score, breaking down pacing and structure so students can hear when a scene falls flat or sings.

Strong fiction lives in specific details — the way a character fidgets during a conversation, or how a setting reveals mood before a single line of dialogue. Amanda's extensive editing experience sharpens her eye for what makes a scene land versus fall flat, and she walks writers through revision techniques like cutting passive voice, tightening pacing, and building tension across a narrative arc.

Crafting a short story that actually works requires more than a good idea — it's about controlling point of view, pacing scenes, and knowing when dialogue carries more weight than description. Lesleigh writes fiction herself and brings her graduate-level understanding of narrative structure to workshops on everything from character development to revision strategy.

Thirty years of writing fiction — with poems and stories published across multiple magazines and journals — means Mati can talk craft at a granular level: dialogue that reveals character, pacing that sustains tension, point-of-view choices that shape an entire narrative. She treats each student's draft as a real piece of writing worth developing, not just a classroom assignment.

Crafting fiction means making dozens of invisible choices — point of view, pacing, when to reveal information, how dialogue sounds on the page. Saniya's English studies at Rhodes College included creative work alongside literary analysis, giving her both a writer's instinct and a reader's critical eye. She tackles elements like scene construction and character voice to move stories from rough concept to polished draft.

Craft is what separates a story that works from one that doesn't — dialogue that reveals character, pacing that builds tension, a point of view chosen for a reason. Peter's own writing practice spans years, and his journalism training instilled a ruthless editing instinct that he now applies to workshopping student fiction, zeroing in on where a draft loses momentum and why.

Fiction lives or dies on specificity — the right sensory detail, a line of dialogue that reveals character, a scene structured to create tension. Emmanuel digs into craft elements like point of view, pacing, and narrative voice, giving writers concrete tools to revise their drafts rather than vague encouragement to "make it better."

As someone who writes across multiple genres — from creative pieces to essays to editorial work — Hanlu understands how to shape raw ideas into stories with momentum and voice. She tackles the specific craft decisions that trip up newer fiction writers, like when to stay in a character's head versus pulling back, or how to end a scene before it overstays its welcome. Her international relations studies at Washington University also give her a knack for building fictional worlds with layered, believable stakes.

Crafting fiction means making dozens of invisible choices — point of view, pacing, when to reveal and when to withhold — and most beginning writers don't realize they're making them. Dakota brings a reader's analytical eye honed through graduate-level literary study to the craft side, showing students how techniques they admire in published fiction can be reverse-engineered and applied to their own stories. She's especially strong on dialogue, scene structure, and narrative voice.

Turning an idea into a working piece of fiction means learning to control point of view, pacing, and dialogue — technical choices that most beginning writers make instinctively and inconsistently. Kahini majored in English at Brown and brings a reader's precision to the craft, breaking down why a scene falls flat or how shifting from summary to scene can transform a story's emotional impact.

Crafting believable characters starts with understanding what motivates them — and Sarah's background in music, philosophy, and theology gives her an unusual depth when it comes to teaching narrative voice, dialogue, and emotional arc. She treats fiction drafts the way a composer treats a score, breaking down pacing and structure so students can hear when a scene falls flat or sings.