There is a particular silence after a first reading at a critique group. Eight people, a draughty church hall, a kettle clicking off in the corner. Then someone says, "Can I ask what happens to her after she leaves the flat?" and you realise you have been thinking about your novel entirely on your own for eleven months.

That is what a good critique circle gives you: not applause, but attention. Readers who have actually read closely, a regular deadline, and comments specific enough to act on. Here is how to find one near you, what to expect when you turn up, and how to be the kind of member other writers are glad to have.

What a critique circle actually is

Terminology shifts depending on where you are: critique group, writing group, workshop, writers' circle. Broadly, it means a small number of writers meeting regularly to read and discuss each other's work in progress.

It is not quite a class, because there is usually no tutor setting exercises. It is not a book club, because you are discussing manuscripts rather than published novels. And it is not the same as swapping drafts with one trusted reader, which tends to happen later, once a draft is finished.

Formats vary more than newcomers expect. Some groups read aloud on the night; others circulate work by email a week beforehand and spend the whole meeting on discussion. Some welcome any genre; others exist strictly for poetry, crime, or writing for children. Peer-run groups are often free or ask for a small contribution towards room hire, while tutored groups cost more. None of these is inherently better. You just need to know which one you are walking into.

Where to look for a group near you

Start local and work outwards. In practice, these are the routes that tend to lead somewhere:

• Your local library. Ask at the desk rather than relying on the noticeboard, which may not have been cleared since March. Many libraries host writing groups or know which ones meet in the building.
• Regional literature agencies. England has regional organisations such as New Writing North and Writing East Midlands, plus Spread the Word in London; Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland have national equivalents. They often list local groups or run their own workshops.
• Meetup and Facebook. Search your town and county plus "writing group". Town-level community groups are another good hunting ground, even if the group itself is not writing-specific.
• Bookshops and open mic nights. Independent bookshops frequently host writing evenings, and spoken word nights are full of people who also write prose.
• Adult education classes. A ten-week creative writing course often ends with the group deciding to carry on meeting without the tutor.
• Writers' organisations. The Society of Authors, the Poetry Society (through its local Stanzas), the Romantic Novelists' Association and the Crime Writers' Association all have regional networks or members' forums.
• U3A and community centres. Worth checking, particularly if you write in a genre that suits a daytime slot.

Literary festivals and one-day workshops are also useful, not because the workshop itself will be a critique circle, but because you will meet people who live within driving distance and are looking for the same thing you are.

Before you join: questions worth asking

Most groups will let you visit once or twice as a guest before committing. Take them up on it, and find out how many members there are, how often you meet, and what length of submission is expected. Ask whether feedback is given round the table or in writing, and whether you are expected to read your work aloud. Ask what happens when more people submit than there is time for, and whether there is a waiting list. A group that cannot answer these questions clearly is likely to be disorganised in other ways too.

Genre fit matters more than people admit. A literary fiction group will not serve a writer of cosy crime well, and vice versa, no matter how friendly everyone is.

Your first session

Turn up early, and bring more copies than you think you need if work is read aloud. Note names; you will be embarrassed otherwise.

If you are being critiqued, resist the urge to explain your intentions before the discussion starts. Let the group respond to the page as it stands. The gap between what you meant and what they understood is the single most useful piece of information you will get all evening.

If you are not being critiqued, your job is to listen and to give feedback. Do not spend the session talking about your own project unless someone asks. Write down the comments you receive rather than arguing with them, even the ones that sting. You can decide what to do about them later, when the room has emptied.

How to give feedback people can use

Good feedback is specific, honest and brief. It is also a skill, and you will improve with practice. A workable order:

1. Say what you understood. Summarise the piece as you read it. If your summary is wildly off, the writer needs to know that before anything else.
2. Name what is working, precisely. "The dialogue in the kitchen scene" is useful; "I loved it" is not.
3. Describe your experience as a reader. "I lost track of who was speaking on page two" is something a writer can act on. "Your characters are confusing" is not.
4. Ask questions instead of prescribing solutions. "What is she afraid of here?" opens up the work. "You should cut the second paragraph" closes it down.
5. Prioritise. Two or three substantial points will be remembered. Twenty small ones will not.
6. Flag it if you are the only one who felt something. It may still matter; it may be a quirk of your reading. Say which you think it is.
7. Stop when your time is up. The most resented member of any group is the one who runs over.

The compliment sandwich has its uses, but readers see through it quickly. Genuine, specific praise followed by direct criticism is kinder in the long run.

Taking feedback without losing your voice

You are not obliged to act on every comment, and you should not try. What you are looking for is a pattern. If three readers stumble at the same point, there is almost certainly something there, even if the fix they suggest is wrong. If one reader dislikes your present-tense narration while the rest are untroubled, file it and move on.

Give yourself at least a day before deciding anything. The line that stings is often the one worth thinking hardest about, but not on the night. And if a comment baffles you, ask what prompted it rather than defending the page. Curiosity gets you further than argument.

When a group isn't working

Some groups are simply not worth your time. Warning signs include nobody having read the submissions, one voice dominating every discussion, feedback that is nothing but praise or nothing but demolition, and sessions where the same two people always run out of time. Cliques that discuss absent members are a reliable sign to leave.

You can leave quietly: send an email thanking whoever runs it, and go. If nothing local fits, consider starting your own. Four to six writers is plenty. Agree a format in advance, set a firm limit on each submission, and appoint someone to keep time. A room above a pub or a library meeting space is usually enough.

Practical next steps

This week, search your town plus "writing group" on two platforms, and send a message to whichever result looks closest to what you write. Ask at your library desk on your next visit. Then prepare a short extract, around a thousand words, that you would be willing to have criticised by strangers.

Visit one group as a guest before you join, and give honest feedback at that first meeting even if your hands are shaking. If the first group is wrong for you, try a second. Most writers go through two or three before they find their people, and the ones who do tend to say the same thing: their work improved far faster once somebody else was reading it properly.

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